Gush & Bore

Written by Christopher Caldwell on September 21, 1999. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

"How about Christie Whitman?" said a friend of mine when I drifted by the office at around 6 p.m. last week. How about her how? I thought. Did something awful happen to her? Are we gonna hire her? Like maybe to replace me until I come back from judiciary exile sometime next spring? My friend
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Rupert Murdoch Shows the Wrong Face

Written by Taki on September 21, 1999. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

Rupert Shows the Wrong Face I was ready to declare a Tibetan "fatwa" on Rupert Murdoch’s head following his criticism of the Dalai Lama, but then I realized it was an oxymoron. Tibetans won’t even kill a worm, believing that all life is sacred–even that of Rupert Murdoch, the Don Giovanni of the deal. Murdoch
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Hypocrisy on East Timor

Written by David Corn on September 21, 1999. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

How did Clinton respond at first? With bombs? With this-cannot-stand rhetoric? No, with neither. As the militias took over, Clinton said, "I’m very concerned about the continuing violence, and the people who lost the election should recognize that they lost it fair and square and should now find a way to go forward peacefully." No
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Study Hall Makes You Free

Written by J.R. Taylor on September 21, 1999. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

There are several reasons for my reticence. First of all, my source could be too easily traced. I also don’t like dealing in information that reveals plot twists or endings. That’s more of a job for people who make theatrical trailers for major motion pictures. Then, of course, there’s the simple fact that whether Felicity
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The Upper West Side’s Left Bank

Written by Andrey Slivka on September 21, 1999. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

Water World What if one of the most stylish restaurants in Paris were an elaborate simulacrum of a generically American eatery? Maybe a Left Bank approximation of a Memphis barbecue place, complete with pulled pork sandwiches and Dixie beer on tap. Also plywood-paneled walls cluttered with phony VFW banners, George Wallace posters, Vols pennants, scuffed-up
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Mr. Dana of The Sun

Written by William Bryk on September 21, 1999. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

The Sun was founded in 1833 by Benjamin Day, a 23-year-old printer. He produced a racy, sensational paper, focusing on "fires, theatrical performances, elephants escaping from the circus, women trampled by hogs." In August 1835 (as recounted in a recent issue of McSweeney’s), Day began a series of bogus articles recounting life on the moon
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Brooklyn’s Chino-Latino Moho

Written by Jonathan Bines on September 21, 1999. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

Back in The Pack The Ian Schrager crowd has Asia de Cuba, the schlubs on the Upper West Side have La Caridad and now the new money of Cobble Hill have their own Chino-Latino restaurant, Moho. The new eatery exhibits the same casually chic esthetic that has proven such a successful formula up and down
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Pen Pal Joey

Written by Beth Broome on September 14, 1999. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

I poured myself a glass of water, sat down at the dining table, organized the small envelopes by postmark in my lap and, one by one, pored over those pieces of prison-issue stationery. I guess I was hoping to reconstruct that strange episode of long ago, glance over my shoulder into the world of a
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Day Jobs At Night

Written by Lionel Tiger on September 14, 1999. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

But he meant 8 a.m. in New York–5 a.m. in Vegas! It was arresting to think that people wanted to discuss the decline of males at such a wistfully cozy hour. It seemed altogether irregular that people would be up and about during a time of day when nearly all creatures from CEOs to two-year-olds
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On the Clintons’ House-Hunting Trail

Written by Andrey Slivka on September 14, 1999. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

"Hi, ma’am!" But the matron just bugs her eyes at me. Stay in the city and away from the suburbs long enough, and you forget how suburban space transmutes itself into sound during rainstorms, so that when you hear the white-noise shusssh of car wheels over wet blacktop at a distance, you’re really hearing the
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