Arturo Sandoval

If you consider the trumpet a side dish, the stuffing to some needlessly bespectacled frontman’s turkey, you’ve been procuring too many of your meals via Pitchfork. That shiny, spitty contraption is a star, and there was an era that made it such, when horn players required only one name: Louis,…

Barneys is Leaving NorthPark; Husbands Across the Metroplex Rejoice

There is no sight more troubling than that of one’s wife making the turn into NorthPark’s Archipelago of Shit You Can’t Afford. There you are, enjoying your third Mrs. Field’s cookie and ogling $75 basketball shoes as if you played basketball, doing all the things the rest of the mall-walking…

Tig Notaro, Louis C.K., and the Best Email We Got All Week

My kid was being a handful last night — or, as Louis CK would put it, an asshole. He was being an asshole, screaming indiscriminately at some hour that looked really blurry on the clock. So there I was, back in bed after sedating the asshole, when I saw an…