After entirely too much deliberation, I’m giving Tebowmania another week. It says here that the young miracle-worker will beat the Patriots today. I know, I know: so much of Tebow’s success has been the result of gifts lavished upon by suddenly pregnable defenses. Why did the Jets come with an all-out blitz, knowing that Tebow …
Ginny and Molly and I had a great time at the Not-So-Silent-Night Holiday Show presented by Rufus, Martha and assorted other Wainwrights and other friends at Town Hall on Thursday Night. The show had a loose vibe that set a fun mood. Highlights of the program, in no particular order, featured Rufus singing a sweet, …
WAINWRIGHTS TO THE RIGHT! WAINWRIGHTS TO THE LEFT! Read More »
Via The New York Daily News, Richard Corkery‘s 1978 photograph of Truman Capote.
In New York magazine, the cleverDan Amira captures the essence of Newt Gingrich‘s windbaggery–the self-promoting adverb that makes the speaker look like an intellectual. Profoundly, deeply, frankly are frequently padders of Newt’s rhetoric, but by far Newt’s favorite word–the crutch without which he cannot walk a thought past his lips–is fundamentally. Examining Gingrich’s speeches since …
. . .is Trump Tower, right next door to Tiffany’s, where Customer of the Year Newt Gingrich met with TV Star-self-promoter Donald Trump to discuss how they might mutualy enrich one another.
In honor of Newt Gingrich’s ascension to front-running status in the Republican presidential contest, I am going into the vaults and resurrecting a nugget from the archives, a solid gold Jamie Malanowski rarity. Here, from early 1996, is the never-before-been-published The Short Happy Life of the Republican Revolution: A Libretto of a Musical in Search …
A RARITY: THE SHORT HAPPY LIFE OF THE REPUBLICAN REVOLUTION Read More »
I have long admired the critic James Wolcott–his slashing wit, his erudition, his vocabulary, his taste and perception–but although we know many people in common, we have never met. Until I read his new book Lucking Out: My Life Getting Down and Semi-Dirty in Seventies New York, his lively memoir of a youth spent in …
“For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it’s still not yet two o’clock on that July afternoon in 1863,” wrote William Faulkner in Intruder in the Dust, speaking of the moment just before Pickett’s charge, when “this time, maybe this time” the Confederate …