America's Most Critical Journal since 1999
“So, what do you think,” Sandra held up her new double Ds to her girlfriends at the barbecue. “Wow, they must have cost a fortune!” Abby admired. As did several of the husbands hanging around the grill with Sandra’s husband, Doug. Their eyes were riv... More »
I met Svetlana (not her real name) outside a Russian tea house in New York City. Not the famous Russian Tea Room on W. 57th St. that has hosted glitterati, literati and Russian ex-pats since 1927, but a hole-in-the-wall, Mama and Papa joint in the far reaches ... More »
Professor Sondra Lear, a feminist science fiction scholar par excellence, was sobbing in her State University of New York at Greenwich Village office. The fact that Trump was really the President of the United States devastated her. Although she had experience... More »
Sunday lunch selected, seven fifty presented, a golden grilled cheese changes hands. I seize the shallow wood basket and make my way to our table. Ours─my friend’s and my own, no one else’s, with an agreeable view of the street. Katherine and I take our ... More »
By Asoka Mendis I have traveled to numerous exotic places, including the foothills of the Himalayas, the Arctic, and the Antarctic. These places, needless to say, are all on the surface of the earth. As a space scientist I have also fantasized about going into... More »
Act I Scene 1 SETTING: We are in the formal meeting room at the Kremlin where a Russian President usually greets foreign dignitaries. A large ornate oval table is filled with a variety of foods. There are two chairs at opposite ends of the table.... More »
“To beat a reality TV star,” producer Harvey Schleishenstein murmured to himself, “it takes a reality TV star…” The idea didn’t belong to anyone in particular, but since it had come to him, he was considering it. Like the majority of voters in the ... More »
While performing my janitorial duties in the basement of a biweekly newspaper that once wrote about music, I knocked over a box labeled “M.W.” An ancient fax machine tumbled out. My god, could I have stumbled onto the Mojo Wire, the apparatus Hunter S.... More »
Sam Crestwell loved America. His patriotism was so pure and infinite that words were insufficient to convey its profundity. It was woven so intrinsically into his sense of self that it had become inseparable from his existence. It was almost impossible for him... More »
By Marleen S. Barr 7 December 2016 Donald Trump was ensconced in his Fifth Avenue aerie contemplating his Cabinet appointments. He glanced at an oblong lamp adorned with a spout and a semi-circular handle which markedly differed from the other baubles disperse... More »