Rest assured, there are already plans in place to turn this country into Argentina under Galtieri, if not Chile under Pinochet. The New York Times has produced a truly scarifying piece of reporting that leaves no doubt what's at stake in courtrooms right now, and at the polling stations all over the country in 2024. It is no exaggeration to say that what's on the line is not only the American democratic experiment, but also the basic idea of self-government itself. So, as is the case with so much else associated with the former president*, he simply took existing conservative policy prescriptions and applied them crudely and stupidly because he is, well, crude and stupid. And he found people willing to be as crude and stupid as he wanted them to be. |
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We have the deets, so you can get your deal-hunting done early. |
| Wanna get a first glimpse of James Gunn's DC universe? The dying breaths of Zack Snyder's playground? Maybe you like Michael Keaton? Does it even matter? |
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In asking Jonah Weiner—who co-writes the menswear-cult-favorite Blackbird Spyplane with his partner, Erin Wylie—about his days before the newsletter, he starts, "I've cared about the arts broadly speaking, writing about the arts, and people who make things for a really long time, going back to being a kid when I was making movies with friends and drawing comic books. Worked on my student newspaper in college as an arts editor, and that became 20 years or so of being a magazine writer, learning how to do profiles and write about people." Here, Jonah and I discuss BBSP's origins, his interviews with Andre 3000 and Jerry Seinfeld, gorp and its utility, dressing in the Bay area versus New York, personal style as a moving target, and the fetishization of uniform dressing. |
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Credit where credit is due. |
| Celebrate Pride with intelligent nonfiction, supremely inventive novels, and sexy poetry. |
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The fourth hole at Galloping Hill Golf Course's "Learning Nine" is a quirky, amalgamated par-4. Straight away, the green makes a little left-hand turn—nothing the casual weekend duffer can't handle. It's just 272 yards, which is the golf equivalent of lowering the basketball hoop to eight feet so you can dunk the hell out of it. It's wedged in the back corner of the property, away from most of play. A perfect place for a quiet moment. Which is exactly why the fourth hole at Galloping Hill Golf Course's "Learning Nine" is the last place on Earth I would have envisioned turning into my father. My daughter Quinn is about 20 yards in front of the golf cart I am sitting in. She is eight years old, playing the first round of golf in her life, and the fact that we have made it to the fourth hole would've been enough of a victory to count the day as a win. But Quinn is also now very into it, which means that I am obliged to break the cardinal rule of golf: Giving a lesson on the course. |
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