The lingering psychological effects of being one of the greatest crime reporters of all time.

It’s a mess inside the network – and Brian Williams may still come out on top.

“Okay,” I said. “What do you think is the percentage chance that I’m right?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Five percent?”

Uncovering the real story behind Capote’s Hand-Carved Coffins.

The article that kept the New Yorker alive was written by a debutante. Who happened to be married to Irving Berlin.

They’re still printing it on paper.

The life and mysterious death of writer Susan Berman.

What does satire do? What should we expect of it? Is it crucial to Western culture that we be free to produce it?

Merriam-Webster is revising its most authoritative tome for the digital age. But in an era of twerking and trolling, what should a dictionary look like?

How a reporter’s assistant got into trouble with Beijing security.

Meet Ben Sherwood, the new head of the Disney/ABC Television Group.

Exploring the darkest corridors of the Internet.

Can a company best known for explaining Kanye West lyrics and telling Warren Buffett to do unseemly things actually annotate the world?

How ESPN anchor Stuart Scott battled cancer.

The Bachelor’s host, Chris Harrison, is now a divorced bachelor himself. It turns out coaching single men is a lot easier than being one.

How a young entrepreneur built a media empire by repackaging memes.

The untold story of the world’s most infamous sex tape, and how the Internet spread it faster than anyone expected.

The inside story, involving low ratings, new ownership, suspected leaks, and a mandate that Meet the Press “loosen up.”

The mainstreaming of livestreaming.

What it was like to edit The New Republic at its most contentious.

One of the little tweaks I made the first time I got the job was to change the slogan on the table of contents from “A Journal of Politics and the Arts” back to the original: “A Weekly Journal of Opinion.” All the fine reporting notwithstanding, what The New Republic did best, had always done best, was opinion. Its politics were polemical, its art was the art of argument.

An essay on PTSD.

The author’s long-running relationship with the grotesque.

“I was in the visiting clubhouse waiting to interview one of the Oakland A’s this year when one of the players called, ‘Here, pussy’—as though he were calling a cat. But of course, he hadn’t lost Fluffy; he’d found a woman in his locker room.”