Okay, “Wonder Woman” had some of my favorite trope of all time — I will watch anything featuring someone dropped into another time period (Themyscira surely counts as the past, technology-wise). So I am doubly here for “WWI-era Steve Trevor tries to figure out a Swatch.”

According to my boss, each of the undergraduate dining clubs at Princeton picks a phrase that members have to work into their senior theses. Her year, it was “the duck flies at midnight.” She was a classics major.

I once worked for a very high-level federal employee from approximately the same generation as Guiliani and Trump. And every damn day, I’d have to show her how to attach a document to an email. EVERY DAY. So yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Guiliani has no idea how computers worked.

So Glenn Thrush was, and apparently remains, a sad, petty, vicious little man.

You need to add that he made his staff pick up his dry cleaning and drive him to the different Ritz-Carlton hotels in DC to see if they carried a specific “moisturizing lotion” in their gift shop. He’s like a very fancy Buffalo Bill.

Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.

I’m struck by how she didn’t want to hurt “her” brand by seeking mental health care, even though she’d sold it more than a decade ago and had literally changed her name to distance herself from it. How awful that she (allegedly) felt that she had to suffer to preserve the image she’d created, over which she no longer…

Wow, I must have missed the verse in the New Testament where Jesus decrees that every heterosexual couple should have a fancy cake at their wedding, baked by an appropriately God-fearing yet artistic baker.

I don’t know anything about Kate Spade’s situation (and definitely don’t want to sound like I’m blaming her — that’s the last thing I want to do), but she may not have sought help. It doesn’t matter if you can afford therapy or medication if you don’t use it. In my experience, the hardest part of getting help for…

I can’t read through this piece without thinking about the great movie “Saved”, with Jena Malone as the evangelical girl who sleeps with her gay boyfriend to “save” him and winds up pregnant. The movie does a great job skewering this whole mindset — at one point her mother, Mary-Louise Parker, is named the best…

In Ambien veritas, apparently.

I don’t care what happens to Roseanne, but I feel badly for the show’s crew. I don’t think we should hold the assistant grip to the same standard as, say, John Goodman, in whom I’m still disappointed for participating in this dreck.

I mean, the overlap between “people who haven’t made awful bigoted statements on social media” and “people who will agree to be on The Bachelorette” is probably pretty small....

Good job, Yankees fans.

It’s not like you can take their “artist” license away. If Louis C.K. wants to deliver monologues to his bathroom mirror in perpetuity, we can’t stop him. But I’m sure as hell not going to pay to see him do it.

Yup.

Nope, nobody likes him. His Harvard ‘03 classmates are savaging him in the report for their upcoming 15th reunion:

I live in MA in a two-family house. The elderly couple in the other unit previously owned the entire house, and PAVED the backyard because its too shady to grow grass. This spring they had the front lawn treated by ChemLawn (or whatever their new greenwashed name is) which is awesome, given that we have both a dog and…

This is atrocious. I cannot recall how many times in college I found a quiet spot in a common space, set my cell phone alarm for an hour, and took a nap. Both the undergraduate and graduate library, lounges in classroom buildings, the benches in the university theater lobby — I slept all over that damn campus. No…

She looks like a slightly stretched picture of Melania.