His wit is dry, his pedantry rigid. And no, you may not “go to Paris and talk about how cool it is there.” (From HTMLGIANT, via Urlesque's Tumblr)
This is the January cover of The New Yorker. Continued evidence of the impending apocalypse.
Barry Blitts is turning personal injury into art on this week's cover of the New Yorker. Inspired by Julie Taymor’s injury during the Spider-Man Musical. Added drama never hurt ticket sales. We can only hope the playbill gets this type of redesign.
Technically this is about the New Yorker's new iPad app, but really it is about Jason Schwartzman being charming. Again. That's what he does.
Dear Mr. Remnick, Please reconsider your angle. Fondly, The Internet (And also probably a lot of tea partiers.)
The New Yorker cleverly points out that the distance to Russia from the governor’s mansion in Juneau, Alaska, is about 1,200 miles.
Culture Buzz New Yorker cartoonist Sam Gross’ new book is filled with swastika cartoons and illustrations. Between this book and LOLHitler, you’ll be getting your much-needed fix of tasteful Nazi humor.