Latest posts
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Johnny Depp: Hollywood’s First-Ever Crash Test Dummy for Accountability

Move over Rosa Parks. Step aside Joan of Arc. According to a recent interview with The Times, Johnny Depp—yes, that Johnny Depp—has declared himself the official crash test dummy for the #MeToo movement.
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I’m Skeptical of Anyone Who Tells Me Not to Take Candy from Strangers, Then Takes Me Trick or Treating

Trust issues don’t start in adulthood. They start when your mom tells you never to talk to strangers, then zips you into a glow-in-the-dark dinosaur suit and sends you door to door demanding chocolate from people you’ve never met, some of whom are literally wearing masks. “Don’t accept candy from strangers” she says on Tuesday.
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The Price of Doing the Right Thing: A Life-Long Scarlet Letter for Telling the Truth

I’m not a thief. I’m not a bad person. I’m not perfect either, and I’ve made my share of mistakes. But I have always tried to live with integrity. I’ve chosen honesty over convenience, truth over spin, even when it wasn’t the easy road. I’ve gone without food before asking someone for help. When I
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Bill Clinton endorses Andrew Cuomo by saying “You. You get me,” and it’s as awkward as it sounds.

Bill Clinton Looked at Andrew Cuomo and Said, “You. You Get Me.” Somewhere between sipping Diet Dr. Pepper and scrolling the headlines, I stumbled across it: Bill Clinton has officially endorsed Andrew Cuomo for mayor of New York City. At first, I laughed, assuming it was a parody post — like The Onion had merged
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Operation Midnight Hammer, Grindr username or military operation, and a President Who Skipped Congress

I’m fairly certain I chatted on Grindr with a guy named “Midnight Hammer,” before I met Matthew. We never met, but the username stuck with me. So imagine my surprise when I woke up to the news that Operation Midnight Hammer was the official name of the U.S. bombing campaign that just leveled multiple Iranian
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If Jesus Came Back Today, He’d Vote Blue: A Sunday Sermon for the Politically Constipated

It’s Sunday morning, and while the evangelical right is hungover from a Saturday night of God-fearing debauchery—tequila, Tinder, and casual racism—I’m sipping Diet Dr. Pepper and writing a little sermon of my own. Not from a pulpit, but from a keyboard that doesn’t judge me for being gay, liberal, or three Reese’s deep before noon.
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Obsessive? Maybe. Compulsive? A Bit. Correct? Always.

People like to say, “You seem so calm these days.” And I am. I am calm. Serene, even. I’ve evolved. I’ve grown. I’ve matured past the era of alphabetizing the contents of my sock drawer by emotional tone and pantone number. I no longer spiral into a dissociative state if someone opens a cabinet and
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Hillary Clinton Climbed the Ladder, Kamala Harris Built a New One, Trump Fell Down the Stairs and Still Got the Job

In the grand pageant of American exceptionalism, where mediocrity wears a red tie and yells about dishwashers, it was perhaps inevitable that we’d hand the nuclear codes to a man whose most impressive résumé item was yelling “You’re fired!” on NBC. Twice now, we’ve watched the electorate (and let’s be honest, the Electoral College’s interpretive

