Dayna Evans · 03/02/14 02:24PM

State-run Russian TV station Channel One has canceled their live broadcast of tonight's Oscars ceremony in favor of the ongoing coverage of the Ukraine-Russia conflict. The network "considers the live broadcasting of the Oscar ceremony for five hours to be inappropriate" as the regional conflict develops.

Huge, Powerful Wave Crashes Through Santa Barbara Restaurant

Jordan Sargent · 03/02/14 01:42PM

Eating breakfast on a wharf overlooking the Pacific Ocean is probably amazing unless a huge wave literally crashes through the restaurant you're in, soaking you completely and washing your breakfast away.

House of Cards/West Wing Mashup to Satisfy Your Inner Politico

Dayna Evans · 03/02/14 12:32PM

The sweeping, over-the-top intro music to The West Wing was like a drug: get one taste of the rousing timpani and you knew that your fix of political intrigue wasn't far from reach. Though The West Wing is dead and gone, House of Cards has deftly taken its place as a favorite of government wannabes everywhere. This Sunday morning mashup of the two intro sequences, courtesy of Wayne Wolfe, should be enough to beckon a few presidential tears to spill forth onto your tie.

Various Iterations of Your Dad Are Now In Fashion

Dayna Evans · 03/01/14 03:43PM

Your dad in the 90s. Your dad in his den with a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels. Your dad when he met your mom at Club Ipanema in 1971. Like a choose-your-own-adventure edition of staying #ontrend, fashion is now easier than ever. Just take a page from pa's lookbook—casual, unfussy, and now replete with swaths of porny chest hair.

Rob Ford Goes to Hollywood

Jordan Sargent · 03/01/14 02:53PM

Rob Ford is more celebrity than mayor at this point, which seems just fine by him. This weekend, Toronto's most famous ex-crackhead will hit Los Angeles for a few of his most high-profile appearances ever: the Academy Awards and Jimmy Kimmel Live!.

A Bed-Stuy State of Mind: Gentrification Shaken and Stirred

Jason Reynolds · 03/01/14 01:11PM

My first morning in Bed-Stuy was the most amazing morning of my life. I sat on the stoop and watched as the neighborhood stretched and yawned. The sun peeked over the brownstones, as weed smoke wafted through the air like the smell of breakfast bacon. Rastas swaggered up the block, their hair stuffed into stockings, crowned high on their heads. Little boys in blue pants and untucked white shirts, chased little girls in princess dresses down the sidewalk, laughing. Their mothers strutted behind them, shouldering heavy purses and gripping tight to bibles. A shirtless man banged at something underneath his car.