By now you're probably well aware of the person and incident at the center of the latest episode of the long-running pop culture series, "You're Not Allowed To Say That Because It'll Make Me Cry."
When I heard about Mommy is Coming, the collaboration between filmmaker Cheryl Dunye and writer-activist Sarah Schulman, I was intrigued. It promised a new spin: S&M; lesbian porn by way of FIfty Shades of Gray and Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?
Like most of you who screw around reading stupid articles on the Internet instead of actually blazing a path towards greatness, I too yearn to reshape the world in my own image. So here is my latest idea.
First there was Romney Care, and now we got Obama Care, but if the hard line conservatives get their way, this country is going to end up with We Don't Care. Less Care For You. Couldn't Care Less.
I was thinking of reading Freedom's Forge: How American Business Produced Victory in World War II, (because who doesn't like freedom, forges, America, business, victory and World War II?) but then I read this essay by its author.
Penn Staters for a Better Tomorrow, Tomorrow and Texans for a Better Tomorrow, Tomorrow will go together where dozens of PACs have gone before. And we're on our way there already, wherever it is.
I'm not particularly obsessed with offensive humor but more with how humor works. My philosophy on such humor has always been simple: It's offensive till proven funny.
As someone who's received many "breakup" letters, emails and even texts, I do consider myself somewhat of an expert. It wasn't until my historical studies at Rutgers that I realized that America was founded on the ultimate breakup letter in history: the Declaration of Independence.
I've done some research, and what you describe is a malady called Selective Hearing Syndrome. It is not deadly and, remarkably, side effects only affect wives.
The Pentagon and the Obama Administration are heatedly debating the weaponization of Larry Summers.
I'm inviting you to play a fabulous game I've devised? The rules are simple. I'm going to give you an imaginary shovel. And then I am going to present to you an imaginary table, upon which I'm going to place different sets of imaginary things, one of which you must smash with said shovel.
The more "essential" the truth, the more quickly the meaning of that truth slips and dances away, failing ever more fantastically to capture what's really going on. We think we're drilling down, when in fact there is nowhere to go but out.
Choosing a running mate is by turns highly secretive and very public, and it has produced some great future leaders of the country. It has also produced some truly memorable train wrecks.
As a father of two young boys, I find it difficult to balance my children's physical safety requirements with my own desire to occasionally remain motionless.
The crate episode wasn't the only time Mitt strapped me to the roof of his car. Before that, when the family took a summer road trip to Oregon, they couldn't find my crate, so Mitt tied me down with bungee cords, along with six tennis rackets, four polo mallets and two boxes of hair gel.
Stealing is such an ugly word. I prefer to call what I do creative accounting.
I'm a firm believer in the motivational, educational and dollar-saving power of intern abuse. In my new IFC comedy game show BUNK, we actually use our intern Patrick as a human timer -- giving contestants the time it takes for him to wade through a bag of broken glass for a razor blade.
Will Durst, 2012.14.07
Remy M. Maisel, 2012.13.07
Mike Amato, 2012.13.07
Jeff Klima, 2012.13.07