In a time when people become famous for spontaneously exuding neurological flatulence the minute it becomes available (I believe most of you refer to it as "tweeting"), here's Mr. Simon—a foot soldier in the media wars for your attention. A man who has the courage to use the occasion of his mother's final descent to…

Good news, bad news for the Weiner campaign.

Personally, I can't wait for Ms. Aniston to get cast in a role that I really think she can sink her teeth into: that of an aging (it's not a sin, Jennifer) actress who comes to understand that she is so much more than the image she projects. Unless, of course, she chooses to live otherwise.

As it relates to aging, our culture, especially here in the United States, is a sinking barge. Incapable of keeping our collective mania for all things young afloat, we flounder and thrash, because we can't accept two simple truths:

In a time when people become famous for spontaneously exuding neurological flatulence the minute it becomes available (I believe most of you refer to it as "tweeting"), here's Mr. Simon—a foot soldier in the media wars for your attention. A man who has the temerity to use the occasion of his mother's final descent to…

Forgive me but I have no idea what "#gigem" means.

And the caption read: "You call that a three-pete?"

Chevelle's run of superb rides from '69 through '70 was remarkable, equaled only by the same period of GTOs.

Mr. Ortiz's response to being called out for behavior that would qualify him as the poster-child for post-adolescent rage expressed by grown men is unacceptable to me.

Parenting might as well be referred to as The Lost Art, as far as I am concerned. That's because the people charged with the responsibility of parenting are officially Missing in Action. They are thusly positioned because the job requires a sublime balance of selflessness (something that is nearly impossible if you're…

Your story is but a mere tip on an iceberg of much greater proportion.

How in the world were you able to find the picture where this feculent bag of humanity proffered his very best "Don't Wear Panties to Work" smile?

I can't imagine what it must've been like to attend a public execution, but having watched the video in which his wife is visible, I can now imagine what slow death looks like.

Why is it that no amount of spin can distract from the fact that these athletes are frauds in the most venal sense of the word? It's the sports world's version of insider trading. The perpetrators are rolling the bones that they can get away with an elaborate scheme, the nature of which will in all likelihood make…

Someday this is going to make one hell of a "one-last-caper/buddy flick."

Aw, Tracy, you had me it "gobsmacked."

Though I don't have any problems with breastfeeding in public, I did have a restaurant job interview a while back in which the woman conducting the interview had her baby with her, and I was nothing but displeased when after she pulled junior up to her breast, threw what looked like a Kleenex over his head, and hooked…

Your title, as applied to Mr. Tsarnaev, misses the point completely, Meagan. The issue isn't whether a terrorist is capable of being "hot"—it's whether it's appropriate for a magazine of Rolling Stone's stature to put him on its cover, knowing that their cover is one that has gained a high level of cultural currency.

If you're ever looking for an anthology to reawaken your faith in the power of the written word when it has the great fortune to be hitched to a pair of eyes as burning with the curiosity of life as you can imagine, look no further than The Gay Talese Reader.

I've never been able to give people a palpable example why I think that tweeting is the accelerant that the runaway train that is western civilization needs to send itself off the cliff of life itself.