Searching for the truth about a site known for busting myths.

“I always walk away from an interview — no matter how well it went — knowing that there’s so much that I don’t know about that person.”

Immigrants from Africa and the iron gateways of mass deportation.

Instead, they got scorched.

A slick-talking con artist turned an innocent brother and sister into his personal slaves.

On the ethics of putting the internet’s spotlight on a neighborhood restaurant.

He never saw it coming.

Is the genetically engineered chestnut tree an act of ecological restoration or a threat to wild forests?

How killing by remote control has changed the way we fight.

Was she the reason he was alive today?

She tore up a picture of the pope. Then her life came apart. These days, she just wants to make music.

Why a Nova Scotia community is still searching for the killer of a beloved farmer thirty years later.

During the pandemic, people from the author’s hometown got sucked into QAnon and the Q-adjacent “Save the Children” movement.

What I learned about rich people, conspiracy, “genius,” Ghislaine, stand-up comedy, and evil from 2,000 phone calls.

Why did I ever believe a teen girl could hold all the power?

A sketch artist and a grieving mother set out to solve a cold case. The more they dug, the more terrifying the truth became.

For nearly 200 years, San Francisco has been the last stop of petty thieves, con artists and killers. Iva Kroeger was all three.

Trees have always migrated to survive. But now they need our help to avoid climate catastrophe.

Inside the shadowy meetings between Chicago’s violent gang members and its elected officials.

“When I’m in Nigeria, I find myself looking at the passive, placid faces of the people standing at the bus stops. They are tired after a day’s work, and thinking perhaps of the long commute back home, or of what to make for dinner. I wonder to myself how these people, who surely love life, who surely love their own families, their own children, could be ready in an instant to exact a fatal violence on strangers.”

Few men have acquired so scandalous a reputation as did Basil Zaharoff, alias Count Zacharoff, alias Prince Zacharias Basileus Zacharoff, known to his intimates as “Zedzed.” Born in Anatolia, then part of the Ottoman Empire, perhaps in 1849, Zaharoff was a brothel tout, bigamist and arsonist, a benefactor of great universities and an intimate of royalty who reached his peak of infamy as an international arms dealer -- a “merchant of death,” as his many enemies preferred it.

Transcript of the 1969 Montreal “bed-in.”

JOHN: How long have you been there, in the teepee? I mean, before you sussed the wind and everything, and you know, got your senses back? ROSEMARY: We had to put the teepee up three times before it was right. It’s like you can touch it, and it resounds like a drone, and then it’s perfect, the canvas. It’s a wind instrument that plays like a drone.

This isn't an essay or simply a woe-is-we narrative about how hard it is to be a black boy in America. This is a lame attempt at remembering the contours of slow death and life in America for one black American teenager under Central Mississippi skies. I wish I could get my Yoda on right now and surmise all this shit into a clean sociopolitical pull-quote that shows supreme knowledge and absolute emotional transformation, but I don't want to lie.

Rosie grew up in a succession of decrepit houses in South London with one man and a rotating cast of women, who claimed that they had found her on the streets as an infant. The man, Aravindan Balakrishnan—Comrade Bala, as he wanted to be called—was the head of the household. He instructed the women to deny Rosie’s existence to outsiders, and forbade them from comforting her when she cried.