Nancy Drew pulled her snappy blue convertible up to the airport curb, Titian hair gleaming beneath the sun of another golden River City afternoon.

A poem from October’s paid-subscriber email: I found forgiveness in a jacket pocket, one I hadn’t worn since I saw you last…

God is a James Turrell installation (or at least something like it), and no, he absoluttely will not accept the Frusciante Defense.

Choose your own adventure, but maybe try not to get stuck with an 80s-Camaro-wind-blown perm in the process.

From September’s paid-subscriber email: With the Channel 4 News Team by my side, it would not be until much later that an ounce of irony was realized.

Forever allowing our tongues to unfurl like a Looney Tunes red carpet upon spotting a heretofore missing piece. Alt title: Take What’s Yours.