If dancing badly is cool, consider me Miles Davis. No, seriously, someone once referred to my dancing as consisting primarily of “jazz hands.” Basically then, I’ll dance if the evening calls for it, but I’d much prefer to have about 100 drinks in me first. Then I’m a regular Gregory Hines. At least, I think.
Must Reads
“How I Became the Muslim Punching Bag for the U.K.’s Racist Far Right”
Last year, in a fit of exhaustion from his own experiences of racism and Islamophobia online, British Muslim Hussein Kesvani went on Twitter and made a satirical joke about overcharging white, non-Muslim people for soup. Cue the far-right trolls, who DM’d him physical threats and reported his tweet to the police for joking about something “offensive” — something they do everyday. Which, in the end, was really the joke’s legacy — exposing how racists are more than happy to espouse a batshit worldview as long as it doesn’t get directed back at them and highlighting a comedy economy that rewards people who punch down instead of up. READ MORE
No Coat Like a Trench Coat
By definition an ankle-length raincoat, the trench has been popping in-and-out of fashion for more than 100 years — kinda surprising when you consider the fact that everything about it is 100 percent utilitarian.
‘Very Cavallari’ Is for the Boys
Very Cavallari, the E! reality show chronicling the life of Kristin Cavallari that debuted last year, has the kind of die-hard fans that would rival any Bravo series. But though they find there’s a lot to like about Cavallari and the boss-way she handles her business, they’re really there for her clown husband, former Chicago Bears quarterback Jay Cutler.
That’s because these Cavallari fans are also Bears bros. And catching up each week on the Bears subreddit and sharing and discussing clips of Cutler bumble-fucking his way through life is how they connect.
Beer Dads vs. Wine Moms
We’ve long had — and still have — a lot of warmhearted affection for beer and beer dads, fictional and otherwise. Sure, we’ve mocked them as pot-bellied slobs, but even so, they’re often seen as “lovable,” and even some of the craft beer-drinking variety, as “hip.” Wine moms, on the other hand, have been mocked, shamed and even criticized by their peers as sloppy, Chardonnay-swilling basics, and the promoters of a dangerous lifestyle. So what gives? Tracy Moore’s got the answer.
Cancer Kayfabe
Back in October, pro wrestler Leati “Joe” Anoa’i, aka Roman Reigns, announced that he was leaving the WWE to battle leukemia, only to return to the ring just four months later when it was revealed that Anoa’i was in remission. And in a world seemingly close to being undone by truthers and “false flag” bullshit, that was simply too soon for many of the sport’s conspiracy-minded fans, who were all-too-quick to chalk up Anoa’i’s diagnosis as yet another attempt by the WWE and Vince McMahon to get him over and turn him into the mainstream star they’ve always wanted him to be.
Let’s Dance
It wasn’t too long ago that men, at least the majority of them, were actually good dancers. How things have changed, considering that, these days, the majority of guys can’t dance for shit. So what happened in the last 100 years? Well, blame Reagan, global pessimism and the ever-present specter of men judging other men for expressing themselves.
What’s Killing Us This Week: Hot Tea
Another day, another study claiming something we humans have been consuming for millennia is killing us. This time it’s tea, which I highly recommend that, if you drink the stuff, you drink it at a temperature lower than 140-degrees Fahrenheit.
On the plus side, however, gardening can save your life.
Cop v. Firefighter
Since the first donut was dunked and the first kitten was rescued from a tree, cops and firefighters have been fighting a secret war for emergency-personnel supremacy.
Yet, as with most conflicts these days, the fiercest clashes happen on a digital battleground, with memes the chosen weaponry. Here, there are no laws or limits. Thus, each side aims for the jugular. Who will win? The rest of us, duh.