"It’s 2 a.m., or, per the guy sitting next to me, “the hour where nothing is awkward,” on a Friday night less than two weeks before the presidential election and three weeks before COVID-19 positivity rates would creep back toward 3 percent in New York, prompting a series of new lockdown measures — a night and moment that, in retrospect, would be the twilight of New York’s pandemic reprieve."

Have y'all been following this? The Australian turned global megachurch Hillsong has let go of its most famous pastor, Carl Lentz.

Hillsong is a megachurch known for attracting celebrities, especially in L.A. and New York; it began in Australia, but stretches around the world and was established in America in 2010. Its pastors are hot. Its dress code is casual. This attracted a lot of attention over the first half of the last decade. Hot pastors, huh? In hoodies? And Justin Bieber is there? And there’s a light show? Tell me more, the world said.

Because of the caliber of its flock, which includes everyone from NBA players to the Kardasho-Jenner set to household-name musicians, the church leaders became celebrities themselves. Lentz is probably the best-known one; he was, after all, Bieber’s personal pastor. Lentz recounted the story of the pop star’s saving to GQ in 2015. He told GQ he calls Bieber “buckaroo,” and how he baptized the Canadian songbird in current Rockets center (then on the Knicks) Tyson Chandler’s bathtub. According to TMZ, Lentz and Bieber eventually had a falling-out in 2018.

Surgeon Christopher Duntsch left a trail of bodies across the DFW metroplex and you are not prepared for this shocking story of a madman with a scalpel. For the full story, I encourage you to listen to season one of Dr. Death, the hit podcast, instead. FYI: season two was just released but does not focus on Duntsch.

Meet Lindy West. A contributing writer to GQ, Jezebel, The New York Times and The Guardian, West is well-known for flawlessly remonstrating against online misogyny, racism, and hate. Her essay collection Shrill (adapted into a TV series for which she is an executive producer and writer) was followed by The Witches Are Coming and now Shit, Actually. Plus, Lindy has also written a series of insanely funny movie reviews for Jezebel and three of my very favorites are this week's Links I Loved below.

Season four of The Crown documents the royal timeline from the late 1970s to the early 1990s – including the highs and lows of Prince Charles and Princess Diana’s relationship, their wedding (and that dress), and the Queen’s relationship with Margaret Thatcher. If you’ve finished watching the series, but want to know more, here are 11 books to read for that royal fix.

These are tough times for people who love to host—these gifts are part salve, part optimism, and all comfort. (I'm really proud of this one, y'all - there is some expensive looking shit that is mighty affordable.)

Books for The Reader? Groundbreaking.

Lord bless, I wore my thesauraus out trying to figure out the title for this gift guide before settling on the worst option. This is for the athlete in your life, your resident yogi, your essential oil lover, and those who need some self-care in general AKA ALL OF US.

"We open at some kind of fancy old folks' convalescence palace. Gee-shucks "simple guy" James Garner shows up to read out loud to senile silver fox Gena Rowlands, but Gena Rowlands's nurse is like, "She's really not into it today. Thanks anyway." Kicking off a trend of men-Red-Rovering-through-women's-boundaries-like-Ram-Man-but-horny that will come to define the entire film, James Garner is like, "2 BAD SO SAD" and barges in there anyway. He begins reading some of his Ryan Gosling fanfic out of a notebook (THAT'S A REFERENCE), and it goes a little something like this..."

"It starts out on a modern-times submarine. Bill Paxton is snooping around on the ocean floor trying to find a big necklace to impress Britney Spears. His character is clearly James Cameron's idea of what a cool person is like—he does stuff like wear male earrings and say "sayonara" in a sarcastic voice. Awww, yeeeeah. Pretty cool. Bill Paxton finds this old safe in the ocean, expecting it to be full of Titanic jewelz, but instead it's just an old doodle of some boobs. Total rip-off! ...OR IS IT?

An old lady recognizes her boob-doodle on the news and goes to visit Bill Paxton on his rock and roll treasure boat, where they make her watch a graphic CGI reenactment of the Titanic sinking (I believe the working title is Hey Granny, Fuck Your PTSD). Then she tells her story. Which is hella not pertinent to treasure-hunting, unless by "treasure" you mean "three hours of nonsense, garbage, terror, death, and delightful Italian stereotypes.""

"We open in a fucking airport. A fucking AIRPORT!!! Of course Love Actually, the apex of cynically vacant faux-motional cash-grab garbage cinema would hang its BIG METAPHOR on the bleak, empathy-stripped cathedral of turgid bureaucracy known as “the airport.” Of course. And then, of course, Hugh Grant’s voice pipes in to tell us how inspiring and magical the airport is, because when you’re at the airport you can’t help but notice that “love actually IS all around.” THE FUCKING AIRPORT!!!!!

If that’s not the epitome of unexamined privilege—declaring that the airport is your favorite place—then I don’t know what is. Welcome to Love Actually."

It me. I'm Collin. Shockingly, I hate talking about myself but here are the CliffsNotes. 31, Texan turned cruise ship character turned Texan turned Chicagoan turned Texan. Event designer and planner. Interior designer and stylist. Corporate badass. Partner and double dog dad. Cursed with an aggressive gluten intolerance but also a passion for bread and no f*cks to give. Why a newsletter? It gives me a creative outlet with a deadline and my therapist says these things are important. Plus, I love to read, shop, share, and most importantly spend time on the internet. I don't sleep.