Rules For Gracious Living: Do Not, Under Any Circumstances, Play Chess With Jack Smith. He is already five moves ahead of you while you're looking for the board in the game cabinet. From The New York Times: "The revised indictment added three serious charges against Mr. Trump: attempting to 'alter, destroy, mutilate, or conceal evidence'; inducing someone else to do so; and a new count under the Espionage Act related to a classified national security document that he showed to visitors at his golf club." In short: Smith is telling El Caudillo del Mar-A-Lago that all of his bellowing about how the Iran war plan he showed to civilians didn't really exist is now, in Ron Ziegler's immortal word, "inoperative." |
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It has dawned on the Republican donor class that they have bought a dead parrot. |
| With A24's Talk to Me, a couple of Australian YouTubers just made the scariest—and best—horror film of the year. They told us how they pulled it off. |
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In October 2013, Estrada walked into an open mic at Maverick's Flat, a historic bar on Crenshaw Boulevard near where he lived. He did a stand-up set. He says he did okay. And he kept doing it. He jammed econo, driving around L.A. performing at open mics across the city. Established clubs, alternative clubs, even tiny house shows—anywhere with a mic that would have him. At 30, he was a decade older than most of the other comics starting out, so he had to make up time. He worked in warehouses all day and performed nearly every night. He got funny—fast. His years of self-loathing turned into a self-deprecating style that invites the audience to laugh with him instead of at him. |
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Or, at least, can't travel without—from the perfect carry-on to the must-have airplane sweater. |
| The country singer-songwriter's collection brings together a love of music, horses, and damn good boots. |
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There is a moment in musical history, at the end of the '80s and the beginning of the '90s, that is not quite the former and not yet the latter. A formless, colorless span of time whose music can't be lumped in with the peppy, preppy pop and rock of the Reagan era nor the groundbreaking indie, R&B, and hip-hop of the Clinton years, and is thus in danger of being forgotten. It's not even a span of time as much as a silver. A slice: two or three strange years as one era evolved into another. This Slice is fizzy and sweet and ultimately not satisfying. It is the Diet Slice. Like the music of the time, you would consume it if it were there, but you are never thirsty for it. |
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