Sublime

His financial security was tied to his ability to continue working.

Me and my partner are finishing up another night shift, the kind I used to think wouldn’t exist on the Murder squad: a massive scoop of boring and a bigger one of stupid, topped off with an avalanche of paperwork. Two scumbags decided to round off their Saturday night out by using another scumbag’s head as a dance mat, for reasons that are clear to

Scott Simon, the NPR reporter who live-tweeted his mother’s death during her last days and hours.

Taki claimed he wanted to “shake up the stodgy world of so-called ‘conservative’ opinion,”1 which is pretty blatant code for “We’re the opposite of National Review.”

The reporting

He’d go and find the most underserved school in the area—the kind of school that made seven-year-olds line up in the cold at 7:15 a.m. for a security check that took almost an hour to pass through, making them late to class, only to then expel them for tardiness. The kind of school that turned a blind eye to school security officers who maced kids

Florida drew the transient and rootless on the eternal promise of a second chance, with more than its share of scammers and con men. So who was to say the guy living next door wasn’t one of them? A subdivision like Carriage Pointe was Jane Jacobs’s vision of hell.

The hills immediately west of the Tillman abode are honeycombed with mine shafts that once yielded a bounty of mercury ore. It was the most valuable mine in California during the latter half of the nineteenth century, but the diggings were shut down in 1975, after which the site was designated a forty-two-hundred-acre recreational area and thirty-f