John Saward
Fuck It, We'll Do It Live: Bill O'Reilly and Winging It
Bill O'Reilly is a pestilence to reason, an objection to the concept of critical analysis. He is the spirit child of the segment of America that won't stand for nuance or patience.
To Girl, From Boy, with Love
You think about how we are alone in infinity, ricocheting between stimuli and hope and orgasms.
License to Shrill: Nancy Grace and Getting Pretend Angry
Nancy Grace is an assassin of logic, of good taste and restraint; not by precise calculation but by tossing a grenade of "WHAT IS HAPPENING TO AMERICA, FOLKS?" and plugging her ears.
Hallowed Be Thy Name Brand: The Religious Consumerism of Megachurch Pastor Joel Osteen
Does God want you to be rich and well-fed? Osteen and his disciples say yes, of course!
'Holler if Ya Hear Me' Is a Buzzfeed Listicle on Broadway
Promotional materials for the Broadway musical Holler if Ya Hear Me declare that it is “inspired by the work of Tupac Shakur.” This is not accurate. Holler is not Tupac’s work come to life; it is his work stuffed in a museum. It is TUPAC...
Your Dad Is Disappointed
Fathers see things tattooed deep within, all that is wrong with you. And they see the good, too, things that are subtle, because they are always searching, always trying to find out why you are the way you are.
This American Bro: A Portrait of the Worst Guy Ever
He has existed for as long as there have been gluttonous men dedicating ceremonies to their own existence. The only things that change are the miscellaneous wristbands he wears, and the brand of energy drink on the promotional T-shirt they gave him.
King of New Yawk: Mike Francesa and Loud Noises
Mike Francesa exists to exceed things. He does not “think” or “believe” or “have opinions”; he recites the indisputable principles of Mike Francesa’s universe, of which he is the sole architect. If you told him that there was a Mount Rushmore of radio...
Maurtified
It is a Wednesday night in early December, and I am waiting in the lobby of the Rich Forum Theatre in Stamford, Connecticut, because I am here to see a taping of Maury, because I am an American, and gawking at the calamitous decisions of...
Joe Frazier Is Dead; Long Live Joe Frazier
Frazier believed in a cold pursuit of something; his objective was not to proselytize but to give himself over to the sport. Not to transcend it or to reshape it but to be consumed by it, to thrive within its merciless structure. To beat Ali, he said...
Big White T-Shirts: Cam'ron and the Art of Not Giving a Fuck
Cam'ron talks gibberish like a Pentecostal minister; he brags about wearing cool sneakers even though they’re uncomfortable; he mentions 20 family members in a single verse. When you’re ridiculous so consistently, it transcends parody and becomes its own
Look on Mike Tyson, Ye Mighty, and Despair
Mike Tyson is a motherfucker. Mike Tyson is a scientist of pain. Mike Tyson's prefight music is just noise. Mike Tyson is afraid of everything and everything is afraid of Mike Tyson. Mike Tyson is a God.