If it somehow took Milo’s appearance to reveal Bill Maher’s true form to you, perhaps you have some reckoning to do with your own Islamophobic bullshit.
As artists are pushed out by skyrocketing rent, the city’s drag culture is threatened.
He laid out every root cause and exposed every broke-ass dream that might spirit us away. There was no continuum, no sliding scale of happiness, just confusions that needed untangling.
When you have a hateful demagogue on your talk show, or taunt a man for his father dying on 9/11, or hire Ann Coulter to be a human punchline, you flatten out evil.
Nate Parker is Black; in that sense, attacks against him are also attacks against me. How unsettling, then, that defenses of him are attacks against me, too.
How the seminal series became a masterwork in scoring teen angst, one lawn-twirl at a time.
On the 25th anniversary of the release of The Black Album, an appraisal of how Metallica’s Post-Good era helped secure its legacy as the greatest American band of all time.
Going a step further than the recent wave of TV featuring nuanced portrayals of mental illness, Maria Bamford’s new Netflix show takes control of the story rather than settling for mere visibility.
Released thirty years ago, Prince’s directorial debut seemed calculated to frustrate the fans who bought tickets to Purple Rain weekend after weekend.
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