I saw the musical on Broadway, which I thought was fine. Good performances, but it kind of left me cold. Then I watched the doc and just found myself depressed. I don’t get the allure, either.

Kind of, and I won’t lie and say it’s not a LITTLE bit exploitative (it totally is). It takes the fascination of Hoarders and adds the tragedy and puzzle of how two Bouviers (aka, American royalty) ended up in this mess. It’s like the car crash feeling of Hoarders+the sadness of the Romanov uprising. But without all…

Well, I can articulate why it appeals to me: it shows this tragic story of an inordinately wealthy, privileged family that not only fell out of riches and relevance, somehow they became deranged squatters/hoarders living in derelict conditions. Their house had no heat, electricity, or running water. They were eating…

It honestly reminded me of when you play pick up, and you forget for a second who’s on your team.

I’m a big fan of the second clip, where the other 4 cavs just abandon Korver in the low post, where he is clearly and undeniably overmatched, and then just stand around to rubberneck at the ensuing carnage.

I love that first clip in the OP where JR stumbles around trying to get by Baynes while Rozier has enough time to take a nap before launching an uncontested 3, and then JR throws up his hands in outrage at the ref for some reason. You could, I don’t know, try going over the screen or something, instead of staying…

My favorite highlight was when Tristin Thompson tried to out-rebound Kyle Korver - with no one else around them - and Korver just threw his arms up like, “C’mon, man...”. 

the ’Tics played smarter

Everyone saying yanny is a troll and I don’t know when you got together and decided to fuck with me like this but it is extremely rude.

This is a very good comment. Thank you.

Golden State checked him just fine after his flurry in the opening minutes, generously accommodating the Rockets’ desire to match him up with Steph Curry

I want the Warriors to win, but more than that, I want to see elimination game James Harden. I love nothing more than watching him slowly loaf to either end of the floor throwing up bricks that could be airballs, while he stares off glassy eyed and coughs up double digit turnovers.

At one time when I was walking, I had Lulu, I told Lulu, “Lulu I don’t feel good,” and she would say, “What’s wrong? I have to go to the bathroom.” I went to the doctor. He gave me another appointment.

Every time I see him I marvel at just how strangely built he is—which is to say, perfectly evolved for the game of basketball. If one wanted to build an optimal basketball player from the ground up, it would look like Durant rather than, say, LeBron James.

This is really the only one of those Vogue shorts that matters:

If you think Mr. Graham isn’t using an alternate account to follow Ms. Fenty’s Instagram, I have a beach house in Calabasas to sell you.

Fingers crossed for a shirtless Kanye with a crown of thorns dragging a cross over the carpet through preplanned Stations of the Cross before being crucified for the duration of the event because his ego will go there.

If you flaunt those toned abs next door in Agoura, though... that’s a paddlin’.

Hot take (and I sincerely believe it):