All men lusted for the firebrand they called Flaming Tina, famed for the molten fire in her hair — and for the hot temper running fierce through the noble Scblood of Lady Valentina Kennedy. Forced into marriage with the fearsome warrior of an enemy clan, Tina vowed to use her wild beauty to gain mastery over Lord Ramsay Douglas. Women hungered to be pressed against his steely chest … and men feared the brawn and rage of Black Ram Douglas. Ram swore he would make the defiant Valentina a dutiful wife after he had broken her hellion’s pride. But the girl he set out to tame became the woman who taught him what it meant to be ardently, maddeningly, gloriously tempted.”
Bob Dylan has gotten the canonization machine working in avalanche order these days, from the Scorsese documentary to the chart-topping Modern Times. The new album is surprisingly good – if not the second-coming so many are talking about – and … Read More
“Master Race! Master Race!” chanted my drunken Aryan friends. The “Beer Olympics” had seemed like a great idea; what better way to build camaraderie amongst brothers than to engage in the spirit of competition, and to do it while getting shitfaced?
The link above the rest of the page was fresh and in red. It was urgent, it seemed. “J.D. Salinger, reclusive author of _The Catcher in the Rye_, dies at 91.” A few weeks ago, coming back from winter break, … Read More
The word “basic” was dead by the time Kreayshawn said it in 2011: “Gucci Gucci, Louis Louis, Fendi Fendi, Prada / Basic bitches wear that shit so I don’t even bother.” But in the word’s afterlife, “basic” has ceased to apply just to “basic bitches” and now affixes itself to all sorts of actions, objects and people.
In my pompous English private high school, the importance of excelling in yearly exams was impressed upon us from age 13. I remember on my first day of physics class in the equivalent of freshman year, the teacher stood gravely in front of us and uttered the words: “Last year, all 23 of my students received A*s. Do not be my first A.” A* was the equivalent of an A+—the highest grade you could get.
I like Chick Literature. Rather, let me qualify, I like Jane Austen as read under the auspices of Chick Lit. This doesn’t mean I like Colin Firth or Hugh Grant-in fact I distinctly dislike both. I haven’t seen Hugh’s performance … Read More