- Secession Planning in California: CALEXIT is Russia’s Ultimate Objective
- From Lance Armstrong to Trump: The Rise & Fall of the Deified Narcissist
- Participation Trophy Politics
- Reading Malcolm X in Texas
- Dah, Donald: Russian Blood Money and the FBI’s Case Against Trump
- Tiny Crowds, Tiny Hands vs. Huge Crowds, Huge Hearts
- 5 Tips for Surviving as Female
- Playing the Donald Trump Game
- Like a Heart Floating in Formaldehyde: A Letter to the President-Elect
- What Are the Odds of Donald Trump Serving All Four Years of His Term?
- The Unbearable Hopelessness of Trump (and Being)
- President Rapist: Women Under Trump
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- The 50 Greatest Superhero (and Villain) Names of All Time
- The 50 Greatest Literary Character Names of All Time
- The 50 Most Drug-Addled Albums in Music History
- The 50 Greatest Band Names of All Time
- The 50 Greatest Civil War Names
- How to Get Rid of Donald Trump: An Action Plan
- The 50 Greatest Pro Football Names of All Time
- From Axl to Zappa: The 50 Greatest Musician Names of All Time (Side A)
- The 50 Greatest Unrequited Love Stories Ever
- Song Beneath the Song: “Casimir Pulaski Day” by Sufjan Stevens
- Song Beneath the Song: Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” as Tarot Card Reading
- Song Beneath the Song: “The Reflex” by Duran Duran
Category Archives: Appreciations
Thom Jones was not a one-shot wunderkind so much as a career scrapper who banged back at a world intent on beating the shit out of him. Continue reading
It’s the sincerest form of flattery, and it’s not going away, but imitation as a means of creation does not enjoy the acceptance it once did. What once was homage is now plagiarism. Guest Weekling Charlie Clissitt goes to bat for practitioners of the age-old art of looking over the shoulders of giants.
I had only recently discovered the glories of a naked body entwined with mine and, like every sex neophyte since time began, I had figured nothing would ever compare. I was wrong.
Everyone else may hate U2, but Kurt Baumeister will always love them in spite of themselves.
She is my walk through Brooklyn, my arm toss in the park, my sit on the stoop, my weekend up in the country, my never alone, my not going to die for such a long time it feels like forever, my Lee.
What happens when Bob Dylan starts talking to you about the woman he loves? Darren Anderson channels it here.
Our own Robert Burke Warren waxes on about Sean Beaudoin’s stellar, rockin’ Welcome Thieves.
David Bowie didn’t merely innovate; he wrought aesthetic and stylistic changes and, like an irrepressible Pied Piper, people followed him wherever he went.
Greg Olear’s projections for the new season of Dancing with the Stars.