Whose cheese is blue? Find out in my first piece for The Belladonna Comedy.

The "adult content" in the image: old-timey painting of Adam and Eve in the Garden, and there are nipples.

You should keep an eye out for The Guardian's Poem of the Week. You really oughta. Delighted to see poetry, and poets, elevated in a news outlet. www.theguardian.com/books/2025/s...

All that and a bag of chips.

I wrote a thing. As someone who survived the 1970s and kept the receipts.

"Walking is our driving." Truth. Sidewalk and other NYC etiquette at Gothamist. (Though I'd have added no feet on the seats and only hands on the poles for subway riding. ONLY HANDS.) gothamist.com/arts-enterta...

A hawk cam. That's what I want. Very simple. I wanna see next spring's hatchling stalking around that ledge, eating squirrels and stuff, looking grumpy as it feathers out. But up close, from my lap. Make it happen, @fordham.edu! #Cornellhawks shouldn't get all the fun.

I like being reminded that the Earth is constantly popping off somewhere or other.

From lava to snowfields to the ocean's floor? She's got the coolest job, with the best gear. My jealousy is only surmounted by my admiration.

I’ve forced myself to get into TikTok and it goofy and distracting yet often feels like AM radio in the early 50s. It could be anything. Here Ann Patchett tears multiple new rectums in David Brooks, who only exists for that purpose.

Mother Earth is watching. Don't be complicit.