“The vagina is bigger than Trump.” Those resonant, anthemic words stared back at us from the computer screen, as we abided by filmmaker Q’s last commandment—to ‘google Pussy Riot’—in the last line of this issue, as he wound up his troubled walkthrough in the grey edgelands of modern sexuality (Hormonality Diary, page 130). The words were spoken by Nadya Tolokonnikova, a member of the Russian feminist punk rock band Pussy Riot, who define their activist dissent—on pain of imprisonment and perhaps worse—entirely in opposition to Vladimir Putin, the masculinist world-leader manqué from their neck of the woods. There seems to be no dearth of such figures nowadays: the world canvas is teeming with a kind of alpha male, with the faint menace of a sexual raptor implicit in their authoritarian swagger, a type that’s as old as it is new. The name Taimur has set off the latest social media storm, but a million Timurs strut about everywhere, gripping their sword’s hilt, reclaiming their kingdom.