COLD OUT. Crisp. Short, declarative sentences crackle in sun-kindled Maine morning light. They hypnotize editors sometimes. The sentences do. Aubergine and puffy the readers found it, decomposing on the page: writered to death. A New York Times profile of some guy who died. Read it, or read it not. There is no try.
gonna set this friday of right!!!! pic.twitter.com/l5cXZpGCrc
— truss me daddi (@christinefriar) October 17, 2015
Awful person Jason Whitlock struck back at Greg Howard, who chronicled the total defeat of Whitlock’s abortive ESPN project The Undefeated. Howard ended the fight forever without even leaving his personal Kinja. In less conclusive dudefights, Jonathan Chait and Freddie deBoer pawed at each other over Hillary Clinton’s performance in the first Democratic debate. Who won? Well, as the saying goes, “Never wrestle a pig: you both get muddy but Chait and deBoer are still terrible.”
Professional apologizer Stephen Glass released his newest work of contrition, a public repayment of $10,000 to Harper’s Magazine. Fans of regret will be pleased to hear that Glass intends to follow this with further cash meas culpa, proving that after nearly two decades he is still the unparalleled master of the atonement arts.
— Werewolf of London (@mslopatto) October 19, 2015
Today in the Zombie Apocalypse: A man “ran amok,” on an Aer L****s1 flight yesterday, biting a fellow passenger and then dying in what literally everyone recognizes as the obvious start of the zombie apocalypse. Today, The Guardian reported that a Portugese woman was arrested in connection with the revenant attack when investigators found “a substance” in her bag. Last week Elmo Keep wrote about our fondness for zombie stories as comforting entertainment in The Awl, which will come to seem very ironic in about 48 more hours.
Meanwhile, north of The Wall, the White Walkers are finally having their election today! At the end, soon-to-be-outgoing prime minister Stephen Harper stooped to campaigning in the vicinity of Rob and Doug Ford, out of desperation for either votes or a sweet weed hookup. At the prime minister’s office, moving and shredding trucks are coming and going, in what is clearly routine moving and shredding traffic, just moving things around and shredding incriminating paperwork like conservative governments everywhere do day in and day out, right up to the last possible legal moment. Election results should start to arrive around 7:30 p.m. ET tonight, and may be found in maple syrup jugs or the more polite corners of Twitter.
This creepy but grimly cheerful post about a Dad who apparently wanted to bone his daughter’s homecoming date turns into a warning to anyone who would carelessly wield the Official Buzzfeed Tone when it mentions in the second to last paragraph that the dad is fighting extensive brain cancer. “Yahoo!” cry the many fortunate executives fleeing Marissa Mayer’s doomed purple dinosaur. Even if you don’t know or care about football, this trick play the Colts tried last night was hilarious. Elle Reeve on beefy enemy-killer Jim Webb is a good reminder of how much that dude used to be seen as the obvious future of the Democratic party. Dumpster boyfriend update.
Today’s Metaphor for Twitter: Man Tries to Put Out Garbage Fire By Driving Over It In A Van Loaded With Ammunition.
~Y en silencio tu mirada dice mil fichas / La noche en la que te suplico que no salga el sol~
Today in Tabs is keeping track of the Amazon vs. NYT thing, you can count on it. Come back to Fast Company tomorrow for that, or just kick back after a long night of Canadian election results and I’ll email it to you. Thanks to Iceland for being chill as heck.
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