Monica dishes on “bastard bird” Bennington, whom she claims to have “defenestrated.”
One, just one, day of Condor.
The Quibbits clan enjoys a summer day at Six Flags. Except Bennington.
Remarkably, Oliver Bullough's Moneyland isn’t a despairing book.
An annex was set up at Grand Central Terminal.
He's an icon for scholars and painters, but he's a terrible role model.
Why are so many of our most creative individuals given to dissolution and self-destruction?
When we’re trying to be sui generis—the “author of ourselves,” in control of our own biography—dying is a fearful prospect.
By removing yourself from the myriad distractions of life, you can devote yourself to whatever you want to accomplish.
Black Leopard, Red Wolf reads as though author Marlon James is disillusioned with narrative, even writing against it.
It’s a serious problem. For me, at least. I’m assuming everyone else as well.
You can meet a lot of people promenading up Broadway.
Trying this hard not to get beat will get the Democrats beat.
Millennial media heroine Camden Camden is forced to make a decision that will change her life forever.
Paleocon Diary (#185).
A look at Evan Ratliff's complex thriller about criminal mastermind Paul Le Roux.
From what little he'd heard of her speech, unmitigated gobbledygook!
Getting old is a slow process of watching yourself get worse at everything.
Paleocon Diary (#184).
It gave fantasy nerds a new way to worship at the temple of imagination.
One long-term user’s thoughts and opinions.
Writing and recording poems every week for a newborn daughter.
Dad was a humble giant, at least to his five sons.
I’m an old cowhand.
As a teenager, I was a walking zit.
The brilliant Absolut Vodka advertising hustle of the late-1980s.
I don’t scream for ice cream.
American social polarization is exaggerated.
Ninety-Nine percent of baseball fans don’t care if a free agent inks deal for $100 or $140 million.
Black eyes are going around like the flu.