Bitcoin partying at an Orlando hotel with worshippers of the blockchain.

Customer feedback on the New York City coke dealing industry.

An investigation of the infamous alleged assault.

The ups and downs of being an accidental viral sensation.

“When I was a child, Dad told me that he chose to become a cop because a cop was the most respected man on the block. When I took a seat at the grown folks table, he told me that he wanted control.”

“My Vassar College Faculty ID affords me free smoothies, free printing paper, paid leave, and access to one of the most beautiful libraries on Earth. It guarantees that I have really good health care and more disposable income than anyone in my Mississippi family. But way more than I want to admit, I’m wondering what price we pay for these kinds of ID’s, and what that price has to do with the extrajudicial disciplining and killing of young black human beings.”

On Daphne du Maurier and her novel, Rebecca.

“Everyone on the boat is racist and nice. Including me.”

The case of a teenager who didn’t kill his classmates—but talked about it.

In defense of snark.

A profile of Perry Fellwock, a.k.a. Winslow Peck, who exposed the NSA in an 1972 article for Ramparts magazine.

Investigating San Francisco’s OneTaste, which promises personal and professional success through the practice of orgasmic meditation.

An older brother’s murder and its aftermath.

On personal responsibility and privilege.

What happens when a 26-year-old Kentucky resident decides to investigate a rape case from his computer.

How Adalia Rose, a six-year-old with an early-aging disorder called progeria, became both an Internet celebrity and the target of online vitriol.

A master troll on trial in New Jersey.

An argument for outing a notorious message board member: “Under Reddit logic, outing Violentacrez is worse than anonymously posting creepshots of innocent women, because doing so would undermine Reddit’s role as a safe place for people to anonymously post creepshots of innocent women. I am OK with that.”

A day at the mall with the cast of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.

Sex and status disclosure in the age of Grindr and undetectable HIV-levels.

The psychic benefits of leaving New York.

John Dirr’s son Eli didn’t really have cancer. In fact, neither Eli nor John Dirr ever existed.

A decade-long Internet hoax unravels.

A report from the KKK’s 2012 Faith and Freedom conference in Arkansas:

It's quite disconcerting in this modern age to be in a room full of white people who are all spouting the most vile racist slurs that one can imagine, openly, while everyone else laughs and applauds it. There is a Twilight Zone feeling to it, as if you'd stumbled into a secret clubhouse where white people can say those forbidden things—the Valhalla of dumb racist jokes.

He has worked for Apple, Google, AOL, the Rainbow Room. He hangs out with Steve Case, Gordon Ramsey, Tim Armstrong. He's a world-class surfer, a AAA baseball legend, the founder of a seminal punk band. He's one of the more persistent and obsessive grifters to ply the streets of New York City—not to mention online dating sites—in recent decades.

John C. Favalora is a sallow old man who looks like the corpse of Dom Deluise. He likes attractive young men to sit on his lap and allegedly treats them to trips in the Florida Keys. He was, until recently, part owner of a company that makes "all natural" boner-inducing beverages. He's also the Archbishop Emeritus of Miami.