Kirby: I didn't really have time to think about what to expect at Marc Maron's comedy show because I was too busy stuffing Pompieri into my mouth as you and I did our eleventh-hour power walk.
For this week’s editor’s note I, Recess’s human hot takes torch, am going to lay down a series of truths.
Before Timothy Tyson got the phone call, he did not want to write a book about Emmett Till. Like most historians of the American South, the senior researcher at Duke’s department of documentary studies thought he knew the story.
Cancel the Rose Parade. I know “La La Land” has earned the undying praise of critics, the academy, and lovers of symmetrical faces everywhere, but all that is over now.
Danielle Purifoy, a Ph.D. candidate in the Nicholas School of the Environment, wants you to know that, under the painful exterior of cyclical poverty, there is beauty.
Imagine yourself looking upon a vast plain. Buffalo graze among the company of cattle egret. You can hear the rattling of insects in the grass as the sun beats down, iridescent and uncompromising.
Most of my friends make fun of me, but I don’t care. My Green Day fan bona fides are without equal:
All you need is happy thoughts. Don’t forget the happy thoughts. I have seen Chance the Rapper in concert twice.
As I pulled into one of West Union’s not-high-enough, not-low-enough high tables Sunday night, there was a hitch in my pre-meal routine.
Comedian Hannibal Buress—who comes to Raleigh this Friday to perform his new act “The Hannibal Montanabal Experience”—has run the gamut of the comedic experience.
