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Look at her face. Also, this is Mallory and Sansa saying goodbye to each other. Or, Mallory is saying goodbye, while Sansa maintains a stony air of indifference, due to her outrage and loss:

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MY HEART:

We’d been a partnership, we agreed, however crotchety. A friendship was born.

And that was lucky for me, because Alan had a great gift for friendship. He was devoted to a large number of people and would somehow always manage to visit their obscure art exhibition, or phone them at 2am when he heard they were in deep trouble, or attend their opening night even when, as we now know, he was already seriously ill. He threw dinners; he ordered every dessert on the menu if you couldn’t decide.


Ann Friedman’s Feminist Resolutions for 2016:

Channel one ounce of Sean Penn’s egotism. There is so much to be learned from the actor’s foray into geopolitically contentious journalism. Next time you find yourself claiming that you can’t try something new because you’d be terrible at it, read Penn’s Rolling Stone interview with Mexican drug lord El Chapo and remind yourself to let your ego soar like an owl that flies among falcons. Feminist bonus points for gratuitously mentioning your genitals in your recounting of the experience.


HAMILTON:

D’Arcy James: “When I left the show I wanted to do something special, so I created a ritual, which I hope will continue through the length of this production, and any other production that occurs. It’s called the Order of Garter, and it’s done if there’s a new king that comes into the show. As Hamilton fans will note, all kings wore garters around their calves, and it was the order of their familial lines. I wrote up this sketch where all of the characters named George in the show would come in and be present for the ascension of the new king and the passing of the garter. It’s all set to a song called ‘Electric Bird’ by Sia. You have to do it like a groom placing a garter on a bride’s thigh. Chris Jackson came up with this — he said, ‘You should be King George the Third the First, and Jonathan will be King George the Third the Second, and it will go on and on.’ We did it with Jonathan, and then to my great, great happiness, they did it when Jonathan left, and Andrew took over. It’s awesome! It’s another way of saying, ‘I was here.’”


I would 100% want Bill Bryson to wrap me in a big hug if I ever met him (I like his Australia book best, personally):

Of the books you’ve written, which is your favorite?

I suppose that would have to be “A Walk in the Woods,” my account of a profoundly hopeless attempt to hike the Appalachian Trail in the company of an equally hopeless companion named (pseudonymously) Stephen Katz. The Appalachian Trail is physically very grueling, but it is also awfully hard to write about. Walking, even when it is going well, is an intensely repetitive experience. The whole time we were out there, I kept thinking: “All we are doing is walking every day. I don’t know how I am ever going to get a book out of this.” So the fact that it did eventually result in a book is to me a kind of permanent miracle.

Whom would you want to write your life story?

My wife. She is kind, and she was there.


Squirrel-related power outages:

The phenomenon of squirrel attacks is a great illustration of how our perception of risk tends to be skewed away from mundane frequent things toward big, scary improbable things. Plenty of ink gets spilled on the alleged vulnerability of our power grid to cyber attacks. But as none other then the Brookings Institution has noted, “squirrels have taken down the power grid more times than the zero times that hackers have.” You could say the same about Hannah Montana balloons, for that matter.


RIP C.D. Wright (Michael Robbins shared this poem of hers on Facebook yesterday, and it’s so fitting for everything this week):

only the crossing counts

It’s not how we leave one’s life. How go off
the air. You never know do you. You think you’re ready
for anything; then it happens, and you’re not. You’re really
not. The genesis of an ending, nothing
but a feeling, a slow movement, the dusting
of furniture with a remnant of the revenant’s shirt.
Seeing the candles sink in their sockets; we turn
away, yet the music never quits. The fire kisses our face.
O phthsis, o lotharian dead eye, no longer
will you gaze on the baize of the billiard table. No more
shooting butter dishes out of the sky. Scattering light.
Between snatches of poetry and penitence you left
the brumal wood of men and women. Snow drove
the butterflies home. You must know
how it goes, known all along what to expect,
sooner or later … the faded cadence of anonymity.
Frankly, my dear, frankly, my dear, frankly


Ursula and Divine:

This is the story of how Glenn Milstead, a big-haired, poo-eating Charm City drag queen named Divine, came to inspire a Disney villainess.

That an indelible character in a children’s cartoon is a composite of 1980s gay life, bold women with gravelly voices, the AIDS crisis, independent film, Hollywood, Baltimore, and the tragic premature deaths of two exceptionally creative men shouldn’t surprise us. The best characters originate in artists’ complicated lives. And Ursula was surely one of the best.


A disturbing and fascinating history of how the Klan got their stupid white outfits:

While some early Klansmen did wear white, and later Klan mythology would claim they’d dressed up as Confederate ghosts, they usually drew on folk traditions of carnival, circus, minstrelsy, Mardi Gras—or the mid-century “Calico Indians,” hooded and masked farmers rebelling against upstate New York land laws. Klansmen wore gigantic animal horns, fake beards, coon-skin caps, or polka-dotted paper hats; they imitated French accents or barnyard animals; they played guitars to serenade victims. Some Klansmen wore pointed hats suggestive of wizards, dunces, or Pierrots; some wore everyday winter hoods, pillowcases, or flour sacks on their heads. Many early Klansman also wore blackface, simultaneously scapegoating and mocking their victims.


NO ONE GETS UP MY ASS IN MY OWN KITCHEN FIRST THING IN THE MORNING AND ALSO THIS IS ON YOUR WEAK HUSBAND:

Dear Prudence,
My husband and I have custody of his three young children, and we also have a 10-month-old girl. Thanks to a healthy divorce settlement, my husband’s ex does not work. The problem is she lives close by and often comes over in the morning to see the kids off to school. She gets in the way as I make breakfast, get the children dressed, and answer calls (I run a business from my home). She helps herself to coffee and makes comments like, “You’re so down-to-earth, living without a hairdresser. I couldn’t do it.” Last week she dropped by on her way to yoga and asked if her new Prada bag was accidentally shipped to my house. She then laughed as my daughter violently dislodged her breakfast all over me. I am so angry about her passive-aggressive tactics. My husband divorced her because of her lying, cheating, and meanness, but he tells me to accept the fact that his kids’ mom will always be around. And I do accept that! But I’m down to my last nerve with her condescending visits. Am I being unreasonable?


One of our beloved commenters is seeking our good vibes, prayers, and (ideally) money for her dad, who has post-polio syndrome and is getting absolutely buried by the cost of in-home care. You can donate here, and he’ll be in all of our thoughts.


Friend of The Toast Ruby Lang has a new romance e-book out! It is a pen name, so we will keep her true identity SECRET. (It is not me.)


Watching the Crossfit Games is one of my very favourite things to do (I do not do Crossfit bc I personally think doing Olympic weightlifting moves in a timed competitive environment is bad for my ability to be an injury-free jock for the next fifty years of my life, but I think it’s LOADS of fun and I genuinely enjoy and appreciate it), and Steve and I were just watching the international championships where the top two men and the top two women from the US, Canada, “Europe,” and “The Pacific” do their thing, and it was A FUCKING JOY. My man, Lucas Parker, being a literal Gimli:

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My woman, Camille Leblanc-Bazinet:


RIP to René Angélil, Celine Dion’s husband (Celine is very important to me culturally and spiritually.) They had a SKETCHY beginning to their relationship (but if Celine says she didn’t begin to have Sexual Feelings for him until she was 17-18, I believe her, Celine is VERY TRUTHFUL), but they certainly seem to have been madly in love with each other for many, many decades, and I am sorry for her loss.


#OscarsSoWhite


So, in a fit of Drynuary impulse purchasing, and due to my EXTREME fondness for ritualistic systems of all kinds instead of moderation, I recently purchased the stuff needed to follow a multi-multi-step K-beauty routine, it’s mostly “wash your face twice and use Essences,” off of (mostly) Sokoglam.com (I will now do anything Charlotte tells me to) and generally adhering to their suggestions for order and product brands, and a) of all, I usually don’t even wash my face except for in the shower after the gym, so this is a CHANGE, and b) why would I spend all kinds of money on something this unnecessary, and c) I FUCKING LOVE EVERY MINUTE OF IT, LOOK HOW RADIANT MY SKIN LOOKS NOW:

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I never wear makeup, but I discovered (VIA A LUCKY-ASS GUESS and some pictures of smears on strangers’ wrists) that my skin is the exact right tone to use a Sulwhasoo Perfecting Cushion in #13, and now I am collaring total strangers to ask them if I’m pretty. Tell me I’m pretty.

Anyway, just wanted to share this dorky thing I’m doing. Please tell me about your favourite products, regardless of which country they hail from. Half of mine are now composed of snail secretions, which is gross-sounding, but think about how well-hydrated snails are! I have everything lined up in order on my counter and I honestly feel like a glamorous movie star now.


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