Three Capitol Police bike cops riding west in a v down a deserted M Street at Wisconsin smiling at each other, oblivious to the rest of the world like it’s a gym ad or a syndicated mid-90s action drama cheesecake program about bike cops in the mold of Baywatch.
I always have the urge to body snark the NYPD into having more of a bike presence.
Man, after a long hard day of SEX TO ME, you just want to settle into some nice comfy white people problems that don’t involve the gentials. Reader, I Grantlanded.
I was ecstatic, and hopeful that this show would gel and become a hit. Instead, we were pulled off the air after two episodes. It felt as if my wife had turned to me the instant we’d finished having sex and said, “I want to have an abortion.”
“It’s definitely an interesting book. It reminds me of the time that Keith and I went to a party that was in Park Slope but not-really-Park-Slope, and really people should tell you if their apartment is in Prospect Heights and not in Park Slope because I don’t go to Prospect Heights. So we get to the party, the bruschetta is good but not as good as the bruschetta I make. I didn’t really feel like talking to anyone but I’m ok with that since I didn’t feel like I needed to know anyone there anyway. I eavesdropped on one conversation, and it was almost entirely dominated by someone who owns a chain of bike stores. He talked about how he just ran the marathon. I quickly excused myself and occupied the next 20 minutes by searching the host’s medicine cabinet to see if we took any of the same medications for sociality’s sake. But she only takes a blood thinner. Her life must be nice.”
“CONGRATS MILES! WE’D BE HAPPY TO PHOTOGRAPH YOUR PARTY FOR 20% OFF BECAUSE ANDREW PUT IN A GOOD WORD FOR YOU. JUST TELL US WHEN AND WE WILL SEND A GIRL OVER! YOU CAN SEND PAYMENT VIA PAYPAL.”
—Rachelle Hruska MacPherson
“Dude, Superman is a forced meme. Who connects with Superman? 5-year-olds.”
Ivyland is a harsh, spastic novel about drug-addled misfits clawing their way through a wrecked future that feels disconcertingly familiar. As if that wasn’t enough, it’s also got evil caterpillars, flung jellyfish, great prose, new drugs, sharp jokes, a stolen ice cream truck and a miracle tree. — Justin Taylor