Anytime my wife and I eat or drink out, I pay. When she says it’s time to go, I flag down the service staff, take the check, and squint while I pretend to itemize the bill. She checks her phone or looks around the room as I hand off the card and make small talk with the server. When it comes back, I pass the receipt across the table. My wife is vastly more capable than I am at simple arithmetic, so she handles the tip and keeps a copy.
On paper, none of this dance matters. We’re married. We share 100 percent of our finances. Neither of us can really “buy” the other dinner at this point. But both of us see it as nonnegotiable that I put down the card. It’s the same reason I open car doors for her or pick her up from the airport. None of it is necessary, but it’s one of the million little things that quietly add up to being a man—the things that, if I didn’t do, especially early on in our relationship, she’d find someone else to do for her.
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Days after informing NBC of his decision, Jerry called Larry to see if he’d like to come back and write the final episode of Seinfeld. “I wanted to invite Larry back to do the last episode so we could do it together,” Jerry explains. “So we could end it the way we started it.”
“I was happy that he asked,” Larry remembers. “I liked the idea of finishing the show up together.”
For Larry, the timing was perfect. Not only because he’d just locked the edit on Sour Grapes—which meant that between now and April, when the film was scheduled to hit theaters, he could focus entirely on Seinfeld—but also because after feeling a bit outside his depth as a film director, it would be nice for him to return to doing the one thing that he did better than anyone else in the world: writing an episode of Seinfeld.
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The late May morning sun doesn’t mitigate the chill in the Scottish air as I step into a warehouse numbered 24. Inside, the temperature drops another ten degrees. It’s appropriately moody for a dunnage built a century ago. Particulate drifts through sparse beams of light, the aroma of whisky-soaked oak sits heavy, and wooden stairs creak underfoot as I climb to the second floor. Here stands the Balvenie’s malt master, Kelsey McKechnie, lit by a pin light. Beside her, the artist Daniel Arsham is washed in the same pale hue. A short, mysterious video plays, backed by a crescendo that would not be out of place in a Hans Zimmer score. Once it ends, servers approach from the rear of the warehouse, each balancing a tray of fluted drams.
The theatrics are warranted. I’m about to taste the oldest Scotch whisky ever released for sale: the Balvenie 88.
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Troye Sivan knows how to have a good time. If his new single “Party” has anything to say about it, the singer can throw down at the park, under the bridge, and at the club or restaurant. He hasn’t just been busy releasing new songs and collaborating with Ian McKellan and Nicole Kidman in his music videos, however. He’s also joined Smirnoff as “chief vibes officer.” It’s the perfect side hustle for a pop star.
“I feel a bit like a personality hire, but I think I bring a nice energy to the role,” Sivan tells me. “I help curate a chill vibe, and it’s giving me my corporate fantasy.”
Thankfully, the role doesn’t have Sivan collating papers at a cubicle. Instead, to celebrate his new single, he’s been working with Smirnoff to create delicious drinks to enjoy at any type of occasion. The result is a collection of cocktails that are delicious and easy to re-create at home.
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From a young age, I was driven to masturbate frequently. Once I found porn, I fell in love. It was magazines at first, then pictures and videos. Porn was evolving alongside technology, and I happily ate it up.
My family is super religious, so I was very sexually repressed as a teen. Porn has always been something I had to hide. But I knew my friends in high school were watching porn and jacking off because we would share porn clips and DVDs. We’d never talk about masturbating to porn, though. That was too awkward.
I felt isolated in my porn watching. Then, in 2020, during Covid, I found the gooner community on Reddit. I was 30. I’d never heard the term before. But when I heard the word, I was like, “Oh yeah, that’s me. I’m a gooner.”
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What’s next for Tom Cruise? The actor, now in his sixties, is showing no signs of slowing down—not that anyone thought he’d ever rest. After spending his early career working with just about every major director of the eighties and nineties, he put out eight Mission: Impossible films and inarguably “saved the movies” following the COVID-19 pandemic with one of the biggest sequels of all time: Top Gun: Maverick.
Next up? Cruise plans to make even more blockbuster sequels in Days of Thunder 2 and trilogy-capping Top Gun 3. He’s also starring in Digger, now in theaters, a critically panned satire about the current state of the world. Still, Cruise’s performance is so berserk that he’ll likely compete for Best Actor at the Oscars again. Insanely, he’s on the list of actors who have never won the golden man. (We’re not counting his honorary Oscar.)
So, to properly celebrate his career, we ranked every Tom Cruise film—from his brief appearance in The Outsiders to his latest role in Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s Digger—from worst to best.
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