It is Friday the 13th. It is also, as of this morning, day thirteen of the United States military operation against Iran, which began on February 28, which means that the war and the calendar have arrived at the same number simultaneously, and which means that if you are a person who notices things, today is a day you will have noticed something.

Reginald P. Farnsworth notices things professionally. He has been noticing things since the publication launched in March and he would like to report, on this particular Friday the 13th, that the portfolio of things to notice has never been more robust. The country is at war. The economy is flashing warnings. The Strait of Hormuz is closed. A foreign nation selected a new head of state without consulting the American president who said he needed to be consulted, and the president is not happy. The FBI is training with UFC fighters this weekend at a facility in Virginia. The British government is releasing documents in tranches. A tray of Peeps costs $1.99 and contains five marshmallow chicks pressed together with no room for enrichment activities.

Historians will note that none of these developments technically began today. The war is thirteen days old, not one. The economic headwinds predate the calendar. The Peeps have been in the CVS since February. Friday the 13th did not cause any of this. It has simply arrived to find it all already in progress, which is, in some ways, worse.

The Superstition, For Context

Friday the 13th is considered unlucky in Western tradition. The fear of the number 13 is called triskaidekaphobia. The fear of Friday the 13th specifically is called paraskevidekatriaphobia, which is a word that Reginald P. Farnsworth had to look up, which he did, and which he notes is nineteen letters long and therefore itself somewhat unlucky.

The origins of Friday the 13th superstition are disputed. Some trace it to the Last Supper, where thirteen sat at the table. Some trace it to October 13, 1307, when the Knights Templar were arrested by the King of France, which was a bad day for the Knights Templar and which established a precedent that the thirteenth is when institutional things go wrong, a precedent that 2026 is honoring across multiple sectors simultaneously.

The number 13 is considered so reliably troublesome that many buildings skip the 13th floor — proceeding directly from 12 to 14 on the elevator panel, as though the floor does not exist, as though you can simply refuse to acknowledge a bad number and it will not apply to you. This is the architectural version of a strategy that several governments are currently employing with respect to their situations, and the buildings, like the governments, still have a 13th floor. It is just labeled differently.

The Day’s Particular Omens, Catalogued

A black cat crossed the path of the Strait of Hormuz: Three commercial vessels were struck near the Strait this week. The strait remains disrupted. One-fifth of the world’s oil supply transits through the strait on a normal day. Today is not a normal day. It is Friday the 13th and there is a war. The oil is taking the Cape of Good Hope route, which adds fifteen days and is the maritime equivalent of going around a ladder instead of under it, which is exactly what you do on a day like today.

The mirror broke in February: The S&P 500 recorded its most expensive valuation since the dot-com crash in January. Seven years of bad luck is the traditional mirror-breaking penalty. The stock market, per historical data, has not performed well following CAPE ratios above 40. The bad luck period and the projected underperformance window are approximately the same duration. Reginald notes this is either a coincidence or the market has been following folk tradition longer than anyone realized.

Someone opened an umbrella indoors: The war’s objectives were described indoors, at a classified briefing, and have not held up to outdoor examination. This is metaphorically consistent with the umbrella tradition. Reginald is stretching the metaphor. He acknowledges this. It is Friday the 13th and he is doing his best.

The ladder was walked under: The Iranian Assembly of Experts was told, publicly, by the president of the United States, not to select Mojtaba Khamenei. They selected Mojtaba Khamenei. Walking under the ladder is the folkloric act of ignoring a clear sign of danger and proceeding anyway. Reginald is not saying who walked under the ladder. He is saying a ladder was present. He is saying someone walked under it. He is leaving the attribution as an exercise for the reader.

Salt was spilled: Multiple things were spilled this week. Some of them were classified. The British government is releasing them in tranches. The second tranche has not yet arrived. When the second tranche arrives, Reginald will need to throw something over his shoulder and he is not sure what.

What To Do On A Friday The 13th Of This Particular Character

Traditional Friday the 13th guidance advises: do not start new ventures, do not make major decisions, do not travel if it can be avoided, and do not tempt fate with actions that history has marked as invitations for bad luck.

The United States government has, as of this Friday the 13th: an active war in its thirteenth day, an ongoing debate about whether to talk to the country it is at war with, a stock market in a historically expensive position relative to earnings, and a physical training event at a federal facility where professional fighters are scheduled to teach agents how to do things that agents were already trained to do. These are not small ventures. These are not deferrable decisions. The advice to not travel was not heeded, as the carrier groups are already positioned.

Reginald P. Farnsworth recommends, on this particular Friday the 13th: throw the salt over the left shoulder, avoid the ladder, knock on wood once for each tranche, and accept that the floor labeled 14 in the elevator still exists. It has always existed. It is the 13th floor. We are on it. It is a Friday. It is March. It is the 13th.

We’ll be fine. Probably. Confidence: 13%.

Reginald P. Farnsworth, Senior Correspondent, has filed this piece on Friday the 13th and considers that choice of publication date either courageous or irresponsible and is not yet sure which. He knocked on wood before submitting. The wood was his desk. The desk held. Gerald the houseplant was consulted on the omen situation and declined to comment, which Reginald is choosing to interpret as a positive sign. Gerald is, as ever, fine.