More and more, we communicate today in short bursts of text. Letters may be dead, but we still write to each other constantly. A man considers what could be his last words to his children from a departing airplane.
Generation X has always been able to fashion its own best outcome. Now it’s time to take that DIY attitude and fix the nation. Because you know who really won the American Revolution? That’s right: Slackers.
Daily life can wear you down when your freshman-year roommates are gray-haired and flirting with dementia. Then again, the best lessons may come that way.
Boxing belongs to the young. For an off-and-on wannabe, back in the ring and facing down The Chainsaw, the stakes are higher than they’ll ever be.
New York’s new bicycle-share program is a big success. Since May, bikers have taken 646,000 trips. But the initiative has also caused many rational people to explode with rage. Why? Because humans are hardwired to hate cheaters.
For a hopeful magazine editor stuck in the wrong career, when Playgirl comes a-calling, it looks like the answer to her prayers—but not everything is as it seems. An excerpt from the new memoir How to Be a Playgirl.
Farming chickens takes care and concentration, and a deal with the birds: We give you a life of safety and comfort, and you die for our food. Until a murdering predator arrives and gives lie to the vow.
Should the cicadas arrive just in time for your wedding—biblical, unexpected, and yet, routine as clockwork—there’s nothing to do but carry on with the ceremony. Come hell or, in fact, high water.
Your opponents have something to prove, certain wishes they want fulfilled. Also, they really hope their knees don’t blow out before halftime. Welcome to over-40s soccer.
The internet is an unrelenting enabler of our flaws and an unforgiving archive of them—so should you google your new love interest, or hold off? And what if they google you first?
America is full of guns—one gun for every citizen—and Americans often use them to shoot one another. After this week’s failure of gun-control legislation to survive the Senate, it’s not enough anymore to say Americans love their guns. The question is: Why do we kill?
The world of the myope is often a nicer place—faces lack wrinkles, and trees seem to be painted by Monet. Then, during a visit to Moscow, a black spot appears.