It's easy to get caught up on the news that the spouse of a sitting Supreme Court justice went full QAnon regarding the 2020 election, parroting conspiratorial delusions around how "the Biden crime family" would be "living in barges off GITMO to face a military tribunal" for the grievous crime of getting more votes than "This Great President." (Scattergun capitalization appears to be a hallmark of the politically unhinged.) Granted, Thomas seemed to legitimately believe Trump really won, likely because she boiled her own brain in a vat of right-wing Internet. But within its sterling writeup of Ginni Thomas's communications with then-White House Chief of Staff Mark Meadows—as Donald Trump's coterie attempted to overturn the results of an election he lost so that he could stay in power in contravention of the will of the American public—the Washington Post flagged an important detail.
It's easy to get caught up on the news that the spouse of a sitting Supreme Court justice went full QAnon regarding the 2020 election, parroting conspiratorial delusions around how "the Biden crime family" would be "living in barges off GITMO to face a military tribunal" for the grievous crime of getting more votes than "This Great President." (Scattergun capitalization appears to be a hallmark of the politically unhinged.) Granted, Thomas seemed to legitimately believe Trump really won, likely because she boiled her own brain in a vat of right-wing Internet. But within its sterling writeup of Ginni Thomas's communications with then-White House Chief of Staff Mark Meadows—as Donald Trump's coterie attempted to overturn the results of an election he lost so that he could stay in power in contravention of the will of the American public—the Washington Post flagged an important detail. Just like that, you're one step closer to hosting an "AD Open Door" tour. Grit, glamour, scandal! These remarkable memoirs, biographies, and histories take us inside Tinseltown, warts and all. You land. You drink. And not until then have you arrived. As the cradle of cocktail culture in America, such is the way to officially commune with New Orleans. While the city's best bars have always had their way of making classics a touch unique, over the past few years, some of its most tried-and-true cocktails have gone through an evolution at the hands of brilliant new bars with a deep respect for tradition. If you're going to hang your drinking hat on a non-gimmicky, unironic home-bartending trend this year, make it the revised classic Nola cocktail. It should always be light-outerwear season. Or at least they should be. The most important thing you need to know about my uncle, the porn star, is that he's not my actual uncle. He's my mother's cousin, which makes him my first cousin once removed. Johnny is now a seventy-four-year-old man partial to books-on-tape and cantaloupe, but between 1973 and 1987, he starred in 117 adult films. He was Man in Car, Man with Book, Man on Bus, Man in Hot Tub, Orgy Guy in Red Chair, Party Guy, Guy Wearing Glasses, Delivery Boy, and, perplexingly, Guy in Credits. He was the porn equivalent of Barbie, who can count astronaut, zookeeper, and aerobics instructor among her professional accomplishments. Except that Barbie, like Jesus before her and Prince after her, has no last name. Whereas Johnny's last name, his actual last name, is Seeman. This is a fact too absurd to warrant further analysis. |
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