If you tell Johnny Depp he’s hideous looking, he’ll think you’re the first person he’s met who sees past his physical appearance—and other lessons.
When Allen Ginsberg stayed with my family, we played video games and read together. But the harmony was broken when the yoga began. It wouldn’t be the last time.
Norman Seaman was one of New York’s great avant-garde supporters. In his biography, he said, John and Yoko would only get a chapter.
Jon Stewart’s Rally to Restore Sanity is bad for America, except for the America that buys or sells advertising time on Comedy Central.
Those who can’t do, learn. In this installment of our series in which the clueless apprentice with the experts, we divine meaning from the heavenly bodies.
The allure of an awards show is not the thrill of victory, but rather the anticipation—and of course the potential for a handjob.
Four digressions about obsession, venom, and life in a famous author’s orbit.
From the awkward phase through the sweater phase to the riot grrrl phase and the New York phase, growing up with a First Daughter I’ve never met.
No one knows what will happen to The Beaver, Jodie Foster’s new film starring Mel Gibson, where Gibson plays a suicidal man whose life is changed by a hand puppet.
When you share your life with a reality TV editor, you learn that reality often winds up on the cutting-room floor.
When your publisher won’t pay you for translating a popular German guide to anal sex, don’t take the law into your own hands—take ‘em to court. But which one?
Celebrity graduation speakers should dispense wisdom and entertainment, or cause a scandal. Our writer found eight who managed to provide at least two out of three.