What comes next after unpaid microcontent? Try 4,700 words about foreskins, at about $3 a word. That, according to a source, is what Sloane Crosley supplied to a new project called Medium, from Twitter co-founder Ev Williams. Williams won’t pay you for a Tweet but, for now at least, he might pay you depending on who you are.
Nothing much is at stake in Iron Man 3. The explosions only affect the bad guys (all an out-of-iron Tony Stark needs to do to deflect one is hide behind the door of a bag-ice freezer). No one of any real importance to this franchise (or that of the bigger Marvel superheroes franchise that it’s part of) is going to expire.
One might think that a newspaper called the New York Times, which employs contributors from around the world, in war zones and dictatorships, would be less in awe of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, a small patch of concrete just across the East River from its headquarters. And yet this week, the latest Brooklyn joke wasn't so much a joke as it was a 2,000-word New York Times essay about Williamsburg. Get it? Hipsters!
He knew it was risky business, but a 14-year-old from Prospect Heights, Illinois, decided to take advantage of his parents' absence by hiring a prostitute over the Internet.
This massive plume of gray-white smoke from the wildfires raging through Southern California's transverse mountain ranges is being pushed over the Pacific Ocean by the notorious Santa Ana winds. A weather satellite operated by NOAA captured this image late Thursday—you can see five of the narrow Channel Islands between Santa Barbara and San Diego County beneath the thick smoke.
Almost one year to the day of Beastie Boy Adam Yauch's May 4 passing, Yauch's friends, family, and fans gathered in Brooklyn this morning to officially rechristen Palmetto Playground as Adam Yauch Park.
In a world that often seems like one big penis party, the clit is a many-splendored thing—and a marginalized one, too. This locus of female pleasure has more nerve endings than any other human body part, but it still doesn't enjoy the cultural currency of your average wang. Maybe Clitoris Week will change that.
Have you heard of the twitter trend #followateen that everyone is talking about? No? Congratulations. Life is good. Turn off the computer now and go outside and enjoy your perfect life. Still there? Well, if you insist on biting into this poisonous knowledge fruit, read on. Learn of the Great Teen-Adult Twitter War of 2013.
As a followup to yesterday's terrific arrest footage of proud American citizen Reese Witherspoon, TMZ has posted more footage from that fateful night. In this one, you can hear her say the immortal (albeit previously imprecisely quoted) words, "My name is Reese Witherspoon. It will be in the national news, I just wanna let you know." She was correct, and how — almost two weeks later, this thing just keeps coming up. On yesterday's Good Morning America, she called this outburst "crazy." Indeed. Like a fox.
The latest terrible fake food scandal from China resulted in more than 900 arrests after criminal meat processors sold the chemical-soaked flesh of rats and foxes as "lamb meat." As more Chinese demand a daily supply of dead farm animals as food, crafty criminals are butchering and processing anything that moves.
Following a daylong adventure of dubious legality, World’s Most Complicated Human Lindsay Lohan has finally careened into a rehab facility. After initially planning to undergo a court-ordered 90 days of treatment in her home state of New York, she switched last minute (without the court's permission) to a facility in California so she could smoke. While her lawyer Mark Heller told a judge yesterday that Lohan was "ensconced in the bosom" of Morningside Rehab in Newport Beach, it was later revealed that the actress' SUV had merely pulled up to the facility; she never checked in. She did, however, visit an electronics store. Now she's at the Betty Ford Center (where she can also smoke).
The man who fired the bullet that struck 10-year-old Zack Reno of Davidson County, North Carolina, will not be charged with a crime.
O, Coney Island Mermaid Parade! You are a motley procession of tacky body paint and beautifully protruding guts and cheese-puddle fries and broken bath toys (and boobies). You are the only summer Saturday afternoon when it's even remotely tolerable to be stabbed with elbows and suffocated among a burnt-skin throng of ogling strangers, because you are so weird and wild and loud and ridiculous (and there are boobies). You have created so many memories for New Yorkers and tourists and children (and boobies). And now, you are in danger of cancelling your festivities (and your boobies).
Yesterday, with the raising of its mast, One World Trade Center—the "Freedom Tower"—symbolically kicked bin Laden's dead ass by reaching a soaring, magnificent 1,776 feet into the sky. Sort of. Probably.
Flipping the script on school closings, one private school in Washington state decided it would be a fun change of pace to announce that classes were canceled due to good weather for once.
