A tale of obsession, punch cards, and a '60s computer the size of a hatchback.

A few days before Christmas in 1960, John Burgeson, a mid-level programmer at IBM in Akron, Ohio, called in sick and invented a form of computerized fantasy baseball. In the process, he also presaged the rudimentary concepts of sabermetrics. And in doing all that, he figured out that computers, which until then had basically been ice cream truck–size calculators, were portals to a virtual world and the future of gaming.

The comedian Louis C.K., star of FX’s Louie, is a big ol’ lumbering schlub with a perennial sweat sheen coating his patchy ginger scalp. He talks masturbating with religious fervor. He muses about anatomically problematic arrangements of genitalia. He called his bright-eyed five-year old daughter a “fucking idiot.” In the next few paragraphs I will ask you to consider that this man—this pasty ogre—is a raging feminist, subversively recasting notions of men who celebrate women.
Anyway, goodbye, readers!
Hello, skeptics and editor and Mom!

As Richard Simmons prances up the steps of the Cannon House Office Building, he bypasses the assembled congressmen and their aides stationed at a podium and marches straight toward the swarm of news cameras at the far end of the veranda. With a sudden, two-armed wave that could, it seems plausible, lead to a backbend, Simmons wails out “Hi everybody, how are we feeling today?” Footloose’s “Let’s Hear it for the Boy” begins to blare from an unseen loudspeaker.

If you've just flown across the country with all your stuff and it's late and your leg sockets are sore and your TylenolPM/gin situation makes the BART map look like a pretty spider, it's likely the first place you will go upon arriving in San Francisco is a taxi.