Tuesday, November 1

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A shipping container spewing radiation appears mysteriously at an Italian port, prompting a larger look at the anonymous world of international shipping.

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On the privilege of being then-Vice President George H.W. Bush.

Monday, October 31

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On the brutal killing of a high school girl in British Columbia.

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This is what I learned: he was working at this, too. Death didn’t happen to Steve, he achieved it.
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An oral history of Ms. magazine.

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On the life, legacy, and last days of Muammar Qaddafi.

Sunday, October 30

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Joseph Mitchell immerses himself in the Fulton Fish Market.

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On conservative radio host John Ziegler and “the strange media landscape in which political talk radio is a salient.”

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A conversation with the 88-year-old abstract painter.

PALTROW: Did you design camouflage while in the army?

KELLY: I did posters. I was in what they called the camouflage secret army. This was in 1943. The people at Fort Meade got the idea to make rubber dummies of tanks, which we inflated on the spot and waited for Germans to see through their night photography or spies. We were in Normandy, for example, pretending to be a big, strong armored division which, in fact, was still in England. That way, even though the tanks were only inflated, the Germans would think there were a lot of them there, a lot of guns, a whole big infantry. We just blew them up and put them in a field.

Saturday, October 29

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On the increasing tension between the pleasant, thoughtful indie rock of car commercials and those who insist on something weirder.

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The low-key swingers of sleepy Amarillo, Texas find themselves relentlessly harassed by a militant Christian group.

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Two weeks spent walking across Provence.

There is something about entering an ancient town on foot that's radically different from entering the same place by car. Keep in mind that these old French towns were all designed by people on foot for people on foot. So when you walk in, you're approaching the place as it was intended to be approached—slowly and naturally, the way Dorothy came upon Oz (spires rising in the distance, a sense of mounting mystery: What kind of city will this be?).