Top Chef

Dishes Served on Top Chef for Cats with Comments Made by Head Judge Tom Colicchio to the cheftestants during Judges’ Table

Vomit gazpacho with poached gopher liver topped with a salad of freshly cut grass and catnip One problem I have with this dish is that there’s so much grass in the vomit itself, there’s no need to throw more grass on there! That salad was overkill. And the catnip just overpowers everything. And the gazpacho…

El Printador

El Printador

Steve Regal pressed his palm to the copy machine glass. The heat and smell of toner comforted him. The day before, at the dentist, he’d read in a two-year-old National Geographic a feature on bullfighting in Seville. He’d been waiting for that article for thirty-two years, though he hadn’t known he’d been waiting until he’d…

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To Lexington

“A meat packing plant smells like rotted meat. A rendering plant takes the foulest olfactory notes of bovine death and transforms them into a symphony.” Andrew Kanago on what led him to leave Lexington, Nebraska.

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A Country Bumpkin’s First Week in Yankee Land

“All this pronto staccato they call talking/Has me wishing for closed captioning/So I can scroll through or follow /A bouncing ball to keep up.” A new poem by Abe Rexrode.

It May Be Your Sabbath, But It’s Our 3rd Grade Championship

Dear Ben, I totally respect that your particular religion requires you to abstain from sports on Sundays. But Sunday is our 3rd grade championship game, and the fact is we can’t win without your son, Jonah. We have seven boys who are fair-to-middling at best, and then my son Coop who can’t dribble twice without…

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This Is for You, Master

“The cat drops a mouse at your feet/as if he figures that will please you./The poor creature’s neck is broken,/stomach split and oozing blood.” A new poem by John Greay.

April 4, 2016
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Modern Medicine

There’s a revolution coming to medical care. Not a new surgical procedure to rejuvenate the aging baby boomers, or even the recently approved drug for female libido. No, it is ICD-10 CM. If it is such a breakthrough, you are probably wondering how you have missed it. ICD-10 CM, International Classification of Diseases, tenth version, is how physicians…

March 31, 2016
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Have a Stick on Me

“Everyone had 4 or 5 children, and needed to go out without them. 50 cents an hour. I cleaned the house, folded baskets upon baskets of laundry, took care of children, whose ages were skipping stones 5, 4, 3, 2, months old, including a set of twins.” M.J. Iuppa on working for gum money.

March 30, 2016
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October

“As I drove home that night,/I was nearly certain we could, if nothing/more, save each other.” A new poem by Joshua Huber.

March 28, 2016
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Selections from the E-Mails of Cabot Sinclair, Literary Agent and Really Nice Guy

“Handing out rejection after rejection is a thankless job, and it drains me. But I will try to be kind…To begin with, Change Me Mommy, I’m Wet, would not be an ideal title even for a book supposedly written by an infant.” New fiction from Gael DeRoane.

March 24, 2016
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The Side Effects of the Cocaine
Revisiting the lost bombs of the 1980s

“I’m talking about actual ‘coke movies,’ the ones where it’s clear everyone on set—or at least the ones in charge—seem to be making decisions in a cocaine-induced frenzy. Marked by intensely committed but slightly skewed editing, writing, and camera placement and movement, a coke movie feels obsessively personal yet constantly distracted.” Roger Leatherwood with an appreciation of a very specific genre.

March 23, 2016
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Clouds

:If I lived in Chicago, I wonder/if there would be a constant tug/from the locked stream/that runs through The Lurie Garden–” A new poem by Susan Fuchtman.

March 22, 2016
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Review: “The Good Divide” by Kali VanBaale

“But what’s most surprising about this novel, which ends in a lean 186 pages, is Jean Krenshaw’s complexity. She is likeable and unlikable, deeply sympathetic and profoundly unknowable.” Alex Mattingly reviews The Good Divide.

March 21, 2016
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An Open Letter to the Only Other Thomson’s Gazelle on this Motherfucking Ark

I’ve been keeping this all in for a while now, trying to be nice and not start a full-on war with the only other living member of my species, but Jesus fucking Christ, Peter. I can’t do it anymore. You’re making us look bad, and I can no longer sit idly by and let you…

March 17, 2016
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El Presidente

Bury me in red, Langston said. Bury me in red, ‘cos there ain’t no sense in my bein’ dead.  The line echoed in my head, giving me an absurd smile as I handed over the tastefully bagged blue underwear and bra that my mother would wear to her funeral. It had been more difficult than I…

March 17, 2016
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March Madness Invocation 2016

Invoke your personal basketball gods with David Anderson‘s annual prayer for your brackets.

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