In the background of many of my childhood memories over the years, Rocky is playing on the living room TV. While I'm sitting at the kitchen table, my dad is on the couch with a bag of Wise BBQ chips—and Sylvester Stallone is on screen with a black eye. As I grew older, the boxer on the TV turned into Michael B. Jordan. But my dad was always there. He's what I would call a Rocky superfan. I couldn't think of anyone more qualified than my dad to review the newest film in the series, Creed III, for this magazine, so I had to study up before the interview. Turns out, I really enjoyed the movie, more so than I'd expected to. My dad, the expert? Not so much. |
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The Owala free sip doesn't leak, it looks good, and makes you actually want to drink water. |
| The 81-year-old musician proves that looking great in Celine doesn't have an age limit. |
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I feel a bit ashamed of myself that my initial reaction to the Tucker Carlson/Kevin McCarthy video deal was so angry. Carlson debuted his first slice of footage on Monday night, and holy hell, was it funny. He apparently culled every piece of January 6 video he could find in which nobody does anything. The extended farce on Fox is going to go on for a while, and the rest of us are obligated to poke as much fun as we can at the ruined tree on which Carlson has hung the bleeding carcass of his professional career. |
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Get ready to bathe in the living waters of exposition. |
| Because showering without music is unthinkable. |
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Dads bring their sons to Baseball Heaven so they can feel like pros. The facility, situated on an industrial lot off the Long Island Expressway, has recessed dugouts, proper bullpens, and stadium lights. On weekends, the lot fills with so many cars that minivans must illegally park on the roadway verge. Cleats click-clack on pavement, and cooler wheels groan. Fathers jockey for position to record their sons' swings and fixate on pitch velocity, murmuring the incantation "What's he at? What's he at?" Between games, boys wander the park with Gatorade-stained lips and gnash on Big League Chew. Inside the café, televisions simulcast play on all seven fields. The turf is artificial, which means the grass at Baseball Heaven is always green. |
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