I mean, "Ave Maria"? "It's a Man's Man's Man's World" segueing into "YMCA," followed by tunes from Sinead O'Connor, Jeff Buckley, the cast of Cats, Oliver Anthony, Elvis, and Guns N' Roses? I kept waiting for them to break out the Dog and Cat Report from the late, great WBCN in Boston. Where were Duane Ingalls Glasscock and Danny Schecter, the News Dissector? I had time to muse on these questions because the Republican candidate for president* of the United States stood there like a meat monolith for almost forty minutes, looking off into the distance with nothing behind his eyes. |
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No need to break the bank. |
| The attack at the Boston Marathon nearly killed her. Two years later and five thousand miles away, a violent encounter with a shark took his leg. Had either event not occurred, they wouldn't be married today. |
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With Labor Day and not one but two Prime Days all happening within the last few weeks, I'm sure you're sick of sales by now—I know I am. But before you officially tap out for the season, let me run one last, too-good-to-pass-up deal by you—J.Crew's fall sale. Right now, the entire site is 40 percent off, and you can score an extra 60 percent off select sale styles with the code SHOPNOW. See? This is one to keep on your radar. J.Crew rarely has sales this good, so enjoy it while you can. |
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Author Talia Lavin explains the dire threat posed by the Christian nationalist movement, and how we can "reclaim faith in the public square." |
| The old man deserves something special. |
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The President has a sensitive left rhomboid, which is a muscle between the spine and the shoulder. When he's been awake too late, or fallen asleep in his chair, or gotten enraged while using his phone, or spent too long golfing, the muscle spasms and bunches into a long hard shotgun slug under the surface of his shoulder blade. Yuliya often begins there, applying the warmed oil in a long stroke along the length of his spine, pressing the heel of her hand into the rhomboid, hearing the President's sharp intake of breath. |
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 There's a reason the man and woman sitting on the mangy couch hold hands. They've endured what you and I have not, and what they've endured has led them to question whether to live. The attack at the Boston Marathon nearly killed her. Two years later and five thousand miles away, a violent encounter with a shark took his leg. Had either event not occurred, they wouldn't be married today. When our deepest trauma leads to our most profound joy, what do we call that feeling?" |
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Don't worry, the iconic buffalo plaid remains a staple. |
| Dress for the job you want. |
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Batman is camp again. Sorry to Joaquin Phoenix's Joker, but we don't want sad songs. The Penguin is driving his purple Maserati around the block like it's an ice cream truck, and I'm a little kid running outside screaming, "Oz Cobb! Oz Cobb!" I hate that I love him. But The Penguin isn't just a Colin Farrell showcase. Episode 4 is Sofia's story. It's a master class of New Jersey Italian Mafia family acting from Cristin Milioti—and dare I say, she just vaulted herself into the Emmy conversation. Even though it barely features ol' Oz Cobb, it's the best episode of The Penguin yet. |
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It's getting harder and harder to see this as a normal election. |
| Our favorite crewnecks, V-necks, and tank-tops make layering up a breeze. |
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It's not hard to find a good smashburger these days. In fact, it feels like they're everywhere. Beef smashed down into a thin patty, sandwiched between a soft and squishy round bun, and topped with a blanket of melty, yellow American cheese. Toppings can vary; some onions—raw or caramelized—a couple pickles, perhaps, and all of a sudden the whole becomes even greater than the sum of its parts. Salt. Fat. Acid. Beef. But the pendulum must swing the other way, I say. Nowadays I'm craving big, thick-pattied burgers. Some call these tavern burgers or pub burgers or even bistro burgers. Whatever you dub them, let's bring back the beef. |
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