 Sergeant Forrest Hinderliter of the Gila Bend (Arizona) Police had been up since two in the morning with a dead body and a shaky story. He'd found the body—a black man with a bullet hole in his back—lying on the floor in Apartment 44 of the North Euclid Avenue project at the western edge of town. He'd also found a woman there, and this was her story. She woke up after midnight to find a man on top of her, making love to her. She'd never seen the man before. She told him to get off and get out; she warned him she was expecting another man. A car pulled up outside and flashed its lights. A minute later the other man came through the door. Explanations were inadequate. In the scuffle a gun was drawn, a .38 revolver. A shot went off, the first visitor died. An accident, the woman told Sergeant Hinderliter, the gun had gone off by accident. An accident, the other man, the one who owned the .38, told the sergeant.   Donald Trump was right about the showerheads. Well, in one respect, anyway. There is something singularly demoralizing about bad water pressure, and one of the purest joys in this world is having a rinse under a powerful spigot. But this minor creature comfort in the vast sea of life's indignities requires water, which the human race is consuming an awful lot of these days, so we citizens must do our part to conserve what remains. That's why, in 1992, the Department of Energy limited how much water American showerheads can splash out to 2.5 gallons a minute. In 2013, amid a proliferation of multiple-showerhead fixtures, the Obama administration updated the rule: The limit would now apply to the total output of all nozzles combined. A few years later, though, Trump sensed a culture-war opportunity. His folks at the Department of Energy rolled back the standard while the big man ranted from the presidential podium about the consequences of low water pressure for his big, beautiful hair.
 At the end of Season Three of Yellowstone, Paramount network's massively successful cowboy drama, it seemed like Kayce Dutton was a goner. Then again, it seemed like everyone in his family had been shot or bombed to bits. But the thing about the character that actor Luke Grimes, 37, plays so well is that he's more prepared for a firestorm than the rest of the lot. "Kayce's always been between a rock and a hard place," Grimes says over Zoom, shaking his head. Grimes joined Esquire to talk about what's in store for the most conflicted of the clan.  Your wife! Give this woman a hand! She puts up with you! Hardy har, now enough with the "dumb husband" jokes. Your wife, we will be so bold to assume, is an awesome human, full of wisdom and laughter and beauty and emotional complexity. You love her a whole hell of a lot, so you want to buy her a gift that's somewhere in the realm of "so perfect she'll immediately call all her friends to brag about her partner's superior gift-giving prowess." Hey, dream big. And we can help make that dream, not reality, but damn near close. For the most important woman in your life, these are 55 knockout holiday gift ideas—for the wife who's into fashion and beauty, cool tech, home decor, foodie crazes, personalized knick-knacks, or all of the above.
 Know a golfer who won't go a weekend without grabbing their clubs and hitting the links, if they can help it? Whose commitment to a beautifully played round knows no bounds, sand trap or otherwise? Whose love of the game is so intense you're pretty damn sure you'll never be able to buy them a gift that impresses? No sweat. The golfaissance is upon us, and that means golfers are reveling in fashion and gear that's breathing new life into the sport. And we've combed through it all to highlight the newest golf gadgetry, the freshest golf style, that'll make for seriously quality gifting. The following 51 ideas, which have the power to turn a weekend warrior into a club champion, are, forgive us, all aces.  There is no door separating the bedroom from the living room in my 650-square-foot apartment, where my husband, Mark, and I have spent the past year together. It's not like we were having problems qua problems when I picked up a hardcover copy of the 1992 self-help best seller Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus: A Practical Guide for Improving Communication and Getting What You Want in Your Relationships, by John Gray, Ph.D., but after a year of quarantine, we weren't exactly in any position to be turning down marital advice in any form. Not to mention, Mark had recently started saying "Cool, cool, cool" every time one of his coworkers asked him to do anything, a habit I loathe. I don't want to kill him, but I don't not want to kill him. I'm sure he feels the same way about me.
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Sunday, December 05, 2021
The Man Who Wound Up Dead on the Burt Reynolds Movie
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