I Have an Ice-Bridge in Greenland that Might Interest You

Trump, ever the canny master of the news cycle, somehow managed to get everyone talking about buying Greenland this week, mere days after his trusty brother-in-sex-crime Jeffrey Epstein [ahem] killed himself in a Manhattan correctional facility. The Rape Plane flies no more.

Epstein Derangement Disorder thereupon fell across the ToM editorial office, just like every other media outlet or Twitter account worth its salt. It is rare to see a news story reported where the official narrative is instantaneously disbelieved by almost everybody, from Right to Left. Soberer heads at NPR did their duty by coming on to the air to assure everyone that such talk was poppycock, tomfoolery, jibber-jabber, monkeyshines, and horseplay — all of which sounds fucking awesome, actually.

What’s Bruler than being Brule?

How a high-profile suspect hangs himself mere weeks after another failed suicide [cough] “attempt” went unexplained. Where did those guards go for several hours? What’s the deal with Tartaglione, the mobbed-up ex-cop and quadruple murderer-cum-frontyard-body-burier who was originally placed in Epstein’s cell and allegedly “roughed him up”? Why is there a temple on Eyes Wide Shut island? And what happened to Clay Tiffany?

Also… this:

The head-spinning Epstein saga is a reminder that, as Felix Biederman has said, nothing really changes — all the same things just get weirder and weirder. “President Donald Trump buys Greenland” is the sort of sentence that, once upon a time, Bertrand Russell might have used to show how a sentence can make sense but have no meaning. And yet here we are.

In the meantime, there are things that still make sense, like Bernie and Cardi B, and the Wendy’s Spicy Chicken Sandwich. In fact, the best thing we read this week is Irene Jiang’s mind-opening tour de force (we’re not kidding) “I Ate Chicken Sandwiches from 8 Fast Food Chains, and the Cheapest Was Also the Best.” (Spoiler alert: it’s not the homophobic one.)

A lot of great content here from our friends at Boston Review, Commune, Teen Vogue and more, curated by our Epstein-addled editors:

Author: Casey Baskin

Writer of bad things

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