There is only one product in my life that I've been using for over a decade, longer than anything else. Over the years, my preference in nearly everything has changed and evolved; from the face wash I use to the jewelry I wear to the coffee I drink, everything's gotten an upgrade. Everything, that is, except for the trustiest pen on the market. Pen lovers already know which one it is—the good ol' Pilot G2. |
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Join Esquire's Creative Director, Nick Sullivan, on a journey into the world of haute horlogerie in Switzerland. |
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The reunion tour is a once-in-a-lifetime event—and these tickets are at once-in-a-lifetime prices. |
| Just in time for "the airline lost my luggage" season. |
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| The cell at Eastern Reception, Diagnostic and Correctional Center, where Missouri executes those the state finds guilty of capital offenses, had a phone. They'd brought Marcellus Williams there September 23, the day before he was scheduled to die. His son called that afternoon. Marcellus Jr., thirty-four, has a son of his own, a three-year-old who is on the autism spectrum. "Maybe you can get some proceeds from me getting executed," Williams told Marcellus Jr., "and you can use them to put your son in a better school, work on his therapy."
That's the way he was, say those closest to him. The fifty-four-year-old devout Muslim with a shaved head and salt-and-pepper beard was always thinking of others, wanting what was best for them—even after he was gone. But he wasn't gone. Yet. There was still a chance. He'd petitioned the state supreme court. The U. S. Supreme Court. The governor. He might get one more reprieve. |
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| You have to love the irony of hiring two people to run the Department of Government Efficiency. You don't have to love the notion of Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy running anything, let alone a new Cabinet-level agency dedicated to the continued demolition of the administrative functions of the national government. But, really, now, I think the first thing these guys should do to make the government more efficient is fire each other. |
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| Marriage is a bizarre business: a maze, a plot, a prison—a reason to live. It is, for most of us, the narrative spine of our lives, the epic on which we hang our sense of who we are and where we have come from. Marriage is our great American novel. But we are a people more suited to MTV.
Marriage made sense once. It made sense when it was about money and children. Now marriage is no longer an economic contract but an emotional rip cord, the thing that we hope will land us gently in life, cushion the fall, soften the blows. On it, we stake all our claims to happiness— not the wisest of investment strategies. It is impossible, of course, and yet we persist—out of a still-lambent sense of romance? Or a sheer lack of imagination? |
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