A dream is a wish your heart makes, quoth Disney's Cinderella. Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough, quoth J.M. Barrie's (and Disney's) Peter Pan. Ron DeSantis will now return to his regular day job of misruling Florida full in the knowledge that his presidential campaign will be reckoned among history's worst and that, quite possibly, Disney believed that karmic revenge was a dish best served cold. Tinkerbell did it. The Magic Kingdom served up poisoned apples of the mind, and not only did DeSantis take a huge bite out of one of them, but a substantial portion of the elite political press gobbled them down like penny candy. Don't pick fights you can't win, Ron. |
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A standout since it first hit the runway, the leather-clad carryall is now available online. |
| Gucci fragrances offer something for everyone, but that doesn't mean you should go in blind. These are your best bets. |
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Before we start, know this: episode 2 kicked ass. Night Country's HBO premiere was a hair uneven. The series introduced us to a bizarro, gruesome case about a group of scientists we had no natural reason to care about. In this Sunday's episode, though, we learn much more about the scientists, what they were doing in Ennis, and there's a genuine cliffhanger to their story. The whole episode is anchored by much more hang-time with Liz Danvers (Foster) and Evangeline Navarro (Kali Reis). Danvers's complicated family situation is shaping up to be the Chekhov's gun of Night Country, but before we get into it we must discuss a certain member of the Cohle family tree... |
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Washington's no. 1 Wife Guy opens up about supporting the Vice President at home, and why abortion access is a vital issue for men. |
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It's 7:30 in the morning at Los Angeles' Chateau Marmont. The hotel's famous gothic-nouveau facade is still shaded; the sun hasn't yet risen high enough above Hollywood to brighten its alabaster balconies and broad-striped awnings. In the morning quietude, a matte black Tesla has silently pulled up the driveway. Taylor Fritz steps out. A lithe six-foot-five, he is Southern California-handsome—longish hair, big smile, tanned skin—and he looks very much like someone who could be famous. That is to say: he fits the scene. Setting notwithstanding, his starry vibe can be attributed, first and foremost, to his damn good tennis game. Fritz might have been predestined for the sporting limelight. He was brought up in an athletic family: Fritz's mother, Kathy May, was a professional tennis player who reached the number 10 spot in the world in 1977. His father, Guy, also competed professionally. Fritz's first rackets recollection was "playing mini-tennis with my Dad's college friends. He always had players at our house, on our court. I was too little to do anything except stand really close to the net." |
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