Sublime

McAnnis had had one cult case before, and he knew what didn’t work—words. What did work was kidnapping. He grabbed her off the street in broad daylight—she was walking with just one other Ayuva Daeva devotee, on the way back from the Berkeley Grocery Collective, paper bags in hand—and shoved her into his rental car, placed handcuffs around her wris

This all had to do with editors. If you were the kind of person who was enrolled at Princeton, you tended to speak of them as if they were individual human beings. The Toms and Kevins of the world, and most of the population of this town, were more likely to club together and subscribe to collective edit streams. Between those extremes was a slidin

Gore Associates,

Agassi’s facial expression is the slightly smug self-aware one of somebody who’s used to being looked at and automatically assumes the minute he shows up anywhere that everybody’s looking at him.

is good-looking in the vaguely unreal way soap opera actors and models in Sears catalogues are good-looking.

one of those Canadianly inevitable checked-flannel shirts

Pieter Levels

Pavlovian—in

he sent someone “to look around and see things that weren’t being reported—not just what they were yelling about.”