Under a heavy sea of Christmas lights at an Indian restaurant, Ryan
Gosling tells the story of his childhood experience with the
supernatural.

That's when I realized that I had just smoked the Wailers under the
table with smuggled Moroccan hash that literally came out of my ass.

Vincent Gallo runs for his life as a (possible) Taliban fugitive on the
lam through Eastern Europe, living on ants, tree bark, and the breast
milk of a buxom bicyclist — as if the waterboarding scene weren't
uncomfortable enough.

It was at this point that our good friend Clio, the Muse of History,
watching with us at home, finished a fifth of Virginia Gentleman and
began singing show tunes.

There was always plenty to decree against: command-ship flying saucers
that zapped us with death rays, disease rays, and rays of insanity and
suicide. 

Leaving aside the casual slander of Captain Edward John Smith, who
bravely stood at his post until he drowned, Romney might also have noted
that the great ship got in trouble in the first place because a
reckless speed through the ice fields was ordered by Bruce Ismay, who
was sort of the Mitt Romney of shipping in…

A pasty old Dane shoots fetishistic footage of naked nubile Nubians
while overintellectualizing his sexual melancholia — kind of like a sad
uncle obsessed with old National Geographic magazines.

We have a waffle iron but the prospect of making the batter was somehow
too much this morning, and though I believe that waffles from scratch
would carry some premium of affection, I know once-frozen waffles won't
matter to Carl, and I recognize my father's exhausted posture from the
latter days of my mother's illness…

There aren't a lot of radar guns in those woods, so you can open it up between stops to eat your sandwich, romp in the wilderness, or whatever you feel like doing when no one's watching.

Propelled with sufficient force, the fragments would make new fragments of whatever they hit - a cart, a tree, a human femur - and in turn, these new fragments would fly off to do their own damage.

She'd been at dentistry school when she was spotted walking on a Colombian beach in a G-string, which led to a Pepsi ad and modeling gigs.

I remember my first taste of saffron, so intense at the rocky seashore with the sun going down, about an hour after I'd become a man.

At first, she had no idea that the wife he was divorcing was actually his high school geometry teacher, or that he went to the hospital to present her with divorce terms while she was recovering from uterine cancer and then fought the case so hard, Jackie had to get a court order just to pay her utility bills.

He looks out his apartment window, where the streets are busy with thousands of James Francos selling hot dogs, driving cabs, break-dancing, reading newspapers on park benches.

Masturbate to vague notions, masturbate to shadows and dust, but as the saying goes, Just masturbate!

After an oddly extended courtship, she confessed to having herpes.

Add beans and call it chili, serve it over rice and call it a stew, or wrap the tender boneless meat in a corn tortilla and call it a badass taco.

In
1977 Iggy ran off to West Berlin with David Bowie to record an album so juiced with spleen that even cruise-line commercials can't make it sound safe.

One scissoring word choice from a program chair, an eye roll here or there, an exchange of withering phrasings between faculty, forever memorable for their clever cruelty - these things can be crushing enough that by next summer the student in question is hanging decks with his brother-in-law in Skokie.

Around
the corner, facing the main entrance of the hotel, stood a tent city — more cardboard than plywood, more plywood than tin, more tin than tent pole, more tied-down blue plastic sheeting than anything else — unspooling itself across the Champs de Mars, the former national plaza, rooting fifty thousand people…