A Brief History of Name Fuckery

You can glance at my byline and gather who I am, who I might be—I don’t have to disclose my race to you. Nor can I avoid it, in the same way it’d be impossible for me to hide my race from you on the street.

You Can Now Buy the Very Own Pants of the World’s Worst Artist

Would you pay $2,500 for a pair of pants worn by the world’s worst artist?

The Social Prescience of Fiction

Examining a social conscience in Truman Capote’s early stories.

In Cincinnati

The University of Cincinnati police ride Segways.

How to Exploit a Dead Writer

The reality of David Foster Wallace’s life is minimized, if not quite evaded, by what the screenwriter and director omit or massage to keep The End of the Tour on a predictable narrative arc and a comfortable, mostly comic plane.

Existential Google

In the rush to get to the bottom of our own obscure or banal questions, it’s easy to ignore what these predictive searches really are: a kind of social cipher, an anthology of digital anxieties, a collective dreaming.

Hitchbot’s Last Lesson

All violence, all desecration against the commons begins with a perception of weakness in the other. In this case HItchbot and and his keepers were other.

Iowa, The Middle of Nothingness

I even wonder if, among white people, the vague myth of Iowa as representative isn’t a national delusion.

What It Takes To Be Violent: An Appreciation of Marie Darrieussecq’s Pig Tales

Text bears violence, accompanies violence, and flies off of it, in every direction.

The End of the Jurassic World Is Nigh

What does it mean when a cultural text is positioning itself as a ravenous chimera, as something that needs to be destroyed?