Reading Burt Cohen’s obituary — which he wrote himself, before he died May 10, aged 94 and a half — gives you a pretty good sense of the guy.

“He was given plenty of advance notice of his imminent death, but his lifelong habit of procrastination meant he didn’t write this obituary until pretty much the last minute, thereby sacrificing fact checking, proofreading and style,” he wrote. “Readers please note.”

Burt Cohen, at far left, stands with wife Rusty and children Michael, Susan and Jeffery at Burt and Rusty’s 65th wedding anniversary on Sept. 7, 2019. (Courtesy of Jeff Cohen)

This, said his son Jeff Cohen, is indeed what Burt Cohen was like when he wasn’t behind the typewriter, too. (Because, yes, he wrote nearly everything on a typewriter including, famously, his Twitter posts.)

“He was able to have serious, reflective conversations, but always maintained a wry sense of humor,” Jeff Cohen said. “When he was engaged with you, he was really there.”

Cohen was the founding publisher of Minneapolis-St. Paul Magazine as it exists today, having taken over a fledgling publication in 1978 and quickly working to build its reputation and make it profitable and sustainable. Later, he also helped launch Twin Cities Business as its founding publisher. And even after retiring, he continued writing a monthly column (print only, of course) in Minneapolis-St. Paul Magazine that was, like his obituary, both kind-hearted and witty.

Besides these columns, he also wrote a lot of thank-you notes, Jeff Cohen said. Whether you were a receptionist or the leader of a company, Burt Cohen recognized your personhood and appreciated what you brought to the table, Jeff Cohen said.

“He was big in terms of writing hand-written thank-you notes,” Jeff Cohen said. “Just that spirit of appreciation, whether it was (for) a little thing or not. And in that moment of appreciation, there’s a relationship, however brief, that’s established, and a sense of connection. There’s a pleasure in knowing the people in your community who you interact with.”

(And, to be clear, Burt Cohen also appreciated what you brought to the table in a literal sense: He loved food and eating with people, Jeff Cohen said; Burt Cohen and his wife, Rusty, threw a great dinner party, and for just the family, Burt Cohen would make favorites like fried salami sandwiches.)

Minneapolis-St. Paul Magazine founding publisher Burt Cohen, second from right, sits with son Michael Cohen (right), son Jeffery Cohen (standing) and former MSP Communications president Gary Johnson (left) during a lunch at the Minneapolis Club on Nov. 17, 2023. (Courtesy of Jeff Cohen)

In his self-penned obituary, Cohen notes that he “died not of flabbiness, as had been widely predicted, but of advanced aortic stenosis, after choosing to reject the surgical procedure that would have corrected the problem,” which he compared to putting new tires on an old car.

“Almost every other body part or function was deteriorating at an accelerating rate and wouldn’t have supported new tires for very long,” Cohen quotes himself as saying, in a self-aware, almost satirical style. “The two exceptions were my appendix and my hair follicles, which were still performing well, and I feel bad they had to go with the rest.”

This, too, was classic Burt Cohen, Jeff Cohen said.

“He was really good at dealing with reality, and accepting what is,” Jeff Cohen said. “That’s another legacy I take from him — rather than what we wish would be, accepting what is.”

Burt Cohen was born Nov. 13, 1930, in Minneapolis. He was preceded in death by his wife of 70 years, known as Rusty, who died in 2023. He is survived by three children, Michael, Jeffery and Susan; two grandchildren and two great-grandchildren; and, per Burt Cohen’s own reckoning, “despite his off-putting personality, by so many, so many, so many precious friends.”

Memorial services are at 11 a.m. Thursday, May 15, at Temple Israel (2323 Fremont Ave. S., Minneapolis), with shiva at 7 p.m.

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Republican Kendall Qualls has launched a bid for governor, making him the highest-profile Republican to join the 2026 race.

Qualls, an Army veteran and business executive from Medina, launched his campaign Tuesday night at Rojo Mexican Grill in St. Louis Park. The event drew roughly 300 supporters, according to the campaign, and featured remarks from Qualls, his wife, Sheila, and former Minnesota Senate President Dave Osmek.

“Our state deserves better,” Qualls told Forum News Service on Tuesday. “We’re a better state than the leadership that we currently have. We’re now in a budget deficit, more violent crime than we’ve ever had in our state — that never used to be the character of Minnesota.”

Qualls had an unsuccessful bid for governor in 2022 when he lost in the Republican primary to former state Sen. Scott Jensen. He also unsuccessfully ran for Minnesota’s 3rd Congressional District in 2020. Qualls grew up in Harlem, N.Y., and Oklahoma, according to his campaign. He later served as an artillery officer in the Army before earning his MBA from the University of Michigan.

Qualls spoke to Democratic Gov. Tim Walz’s tenure during his remarks Tuesday. Walz says he is weighing a bid for reelection and what would be an unprecedented three consecutive terms if he won. The former vice presidential candidate said last month that he won’t make a decision at least until the legislative session ends on May 19.

“Tim Walz’s failures are well known locally,” Qualls said to his supporters Tuesday. “We knew about him way before he made it in the national scene. We know exactly what we’re gonna get from this governor, or whoever the Democrats decide to put in his place.”

Richard Carlbom, chair of the Minnesota DFL, said in a statement that Qualls is “a far-right culture warrior.”

“Minnesotans don’t want leaders who embrace that kind of extremism, which is why they have already rejected Kendall Qualls twice,” Carlbom said. “If he manages to survive the chaotic and divisive Republican primary, the Minnesota DFL will be ready to hold Kendall Qualls accountable for his plans to bring the chaos and extremism of the Trump administration to Minnesota government.”

Other Republicans in the race are Phillip Parrish, a former U.S. naval intelligence officer from Kenyon, and Brad Kohler, a former UFC heavyweight professional fighter from Bloomington.

A Republican hasn’t won statewide office in Minnesota since 2006, when Gov. Tim Pawlenty won his bid for governor.

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By all indications, the pharmaceutical industry won’t be spared from tariffs. In April, the Commerce Department took its first step toward imposing levies on drug imports. The goal, according to the White House, is to encourage companies to manufacture in the U.S.

Yet tariffs are unlikely to increase American self-sufficiency anytime soon. Far worse, such an approach could drive prices higher for patients and lead to shortages of lifesaving medications.

In its announcement, the Commerce Department said that a so-called Section 232 investigation is underway for the drug industry. The provision, part of the Trade Expansion Act of 1962, aims to determine whether an overreliance on imports presents a national-security threat. Such investigations are a precursor to imposing tariffs and could take up to nine months to complete, though many expect the investigation will end much quicker.

Available data appear to support what should be an obvious conclusion: The U.S. is highly reliant on drug imports. According to a large database of public and proprietary records, 90% of the top 30 brand-name drugs sold in the U.S. are manufactured abroad. The U.S. imported more than $200 billion worth of medications last year.

Whether this mismatch constitutes a national-security threat is another matter. Pharmaceutical supply chains started winding their way around the globe in the 1980s, in search of cheaper labor and materials, less encumbered construction, and lower taxes. The result has been a boon for patients, who’ve gotten less expensive medications. (Wider use of statins, for example, has dramatically reduced the risk of cardiovascular disease, the world’s leading cause of death.) Rerouting production through the U.S. threatens to reverse this progress: Branded prescriptions could become prohibitively expensive and some lower-margin generic drugs, which comprise more than 90% of medications taken in the U.S., might cease production altogether.

It’s true that the global sprawl of pharmaceutical manufacturing has been a vulnerability in the past. During the COVID-19 pandemic, factory closures and export controls in China and India — where raw materials and other key ingredients often originate — threatened to exacerbate shortages of critical medications.

Reforms that ease domestic investment and production may thus be helpful. For instance, regulators require manufacturers to submit meticulous records of product development. These files can take years to compile, cost millions of dollars and run to tens of thousands of pages. Updates are so burdensome that many executives deem changes more trouble than they’re worth. As a result, older machinery and processes have become entrenched, while new medicines are retrofitted to existing supply chains. Some White House proposals to streamline this process are a step in the right direction.

Ultimately, though, such efforts should reinforce a global supply chain, not replace it. Key U.S. allies such as India and Ireland have built up areas of expertise over decades, including generics manufacturing and R&D, that have unambiguously benefited U.S. patients. These relationships should be strengthened, for instance, by increasing information-sharing among regulators to identify vulnerabilities in the supply chain. China shouldn’t be excluded: If, as officials have signaled, it’s willing to engage with the U.S. in trade talks, drug inputs should be among the first products exempted from barriers.

At this stage, it’s unclear exactly how the Commerce Department will impose these added tariffs. Drug companies have announced tens of billions of dollars of U.S. investment in recent weeks, with hopes that growing their domestic footprint will spare them. (The bet, according to recent comments from the White House, might pay off.) Yet expanding U.S. manufacturing isn’t the same as reshoring the supply chain, nor will it make the nation more self-reliant. Ingredients — which come from China, India and Europe — are still needed. Such materials may well be subject to tariffs of their own.

Protecting access to critical medicines should rank among the nation’s most important national-security goals. Allowing economic forces to run their course, as history suggests, is the best way to keep the nation healthy.

— The Bloomberg Opinion Editorial Board

When President Donald Trump announced Saturday that India and Pakistan had agreed to a ceasefire, it surprised most on the subcontinent. The military exchanges that followed a terrorist attack on tourists in Kashmir had only intensified in the days prior. And few outsiders seemed interested in the conflict between the two nuclear-armed nations — on Friday, Vice President JD Vance had said that the brewing war was “fundamentally none of our business.”

So how was the Trump administration, unable to arrange for a ceasefire in Ukraine, so successful in South Asia? Even an unenthusiastic attempt at mediation proved remarkably effective. Is the U.S. still the global policeman that it was a couple of decades ago?

Not quite. In this case, America was not a figure of authority — merely a good excuse. Neither India nor Pakistan really wanted a full-out war, but the spiral of attack and retaliation might have led them there. They needed a plausible reason to pull back from the brink, and Washington’s efforts qualified.

All three countries were acting on muscle memory. The U.S. has intervened often when India and Pakistan have fought. In another Kashmir-centric skirmish in 1999, Bill Clinton pushed then-Pakistani Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif into retreating after a stormy July 4 meeting in the Oval Office. Clinton’s advisors told him that would be the most consequential meeting of his presidency; Trump’s advisors may not have been so pressing. But they didn’t need to be. India and Pakistan didn’t have any other path to de-escalation, so they simply seized on the one that had worked before.

Pakistan was particularly grateful for the out, judging by its reaction. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif thanked the president for his “pathbreaking leadership and commitment to global peace.” India was less willing to name the U.S. New Delhi didn’t even call it a ceasefire, clumsily describing it as “an understanding on stoppage of firing and military action.” They insisted, in addition, that this was negotiated not at the political level but through talks between the uniformed officers in charge of military operations at the front.

India might have been worried that Trump went too far when he offered to work with the two countries to reach a solution to the Kashmir dispute. New Delhi has never discussed that issue with anyone other than Pakistan, and isn’t likely to start now.

People on the India side of the border seem more disappointed than the Pakistanis — egged on, perhaps, by a remarkably irresponsible media. India’s news anchors have predicted total military victory while standing in front of AI-generated images of Pakistani cities on fire, as ersatz air raid sirens shrill in the background.

This bellicosity seemed so universal in the public sphere that you might not have noticed how it contrasted with New Delhi’s official tone. The foreign ministry and the military consistently insisted there would be no escalation. Those who did notice the difference were not pleased. India’s top diplomat, whose frequent press conferences made him the face of this official moderation, had to protect his Twitter account when he and his family began to receive threats.

But Prime Minister Narendra Modi, unlike his Pakistani counterpart, chose to avoid discussing the strikes and counter-strikes at all. This is where even the appearance of U.S. involvement helps: It allows decision-makers at the top to do the right thing while giving them some cover against their own hyper-nationalist followers. People on either side of the border are now free to wonder if somehow their leaders secretly got something in return for giving in to U.S. suggestions that they climb down.

Trump gave that speculation some wings when he talked about “increasing trade” following the ceasefire. Others have wondered about arms deals. No such secret clauses to the agreement may ever materialize, but imagining their existence is nevertheless useful.

Too few facts have been established for either side to credibly claim victory. Eventually, we will know if and how many Indian aircraft were shot down, and how much India damaged Pakistani air bases. The Pakistani air force can say it demonstrated parity in the sky. India can claim to have shown that Pakistani airfields are vulnerable and will be held hostage to terrorist attacks.

It’s all too opaque for any decision-maker to feel confident. Did Pakistan’s Chinese-made missiles really outfox India’s European planes and weaponry? How has the use of drones changed the escalation ladder between two nuclear adversaries, and has it made us less or more secure? Who in the Pakistani establishment aided the terrorist attack on Kashmir, and will they ever be brought to account?

The point of U.S. intervention is to render these questions less urgent. Nobody has to save face by giving in to the other; they each give in to the U.S. — even if America has changed dramatically from the country that could and would enforce its decrees on the rest of the world. If that U.S. didn’t exist, we would have to invent it. These days, we will instead pretend it does.

Mihir Sharma is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist. A senior fellow at the Observer Research Foundation in New Delhi, he is author of “Restart: The Last Chance for the Indian Economy.”