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For a few glittering years, they were the world's most celebrated gender-benders. In his forthcoming film about the legendary performers, David Weissman tells one of the West's wildest stories.
By Douglas Cruickshank
August 23, 2000
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Pictures from an exhibition -- in hell.
By Douglas Cruickshank
April 10, 2000
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If Pete Rose won't fess up, he shouldn't be in the Hall of Fame; why we're chicken-pox party parents.
Letters to the Editor
November 2, 1999
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A junket whore survives (and transcribes) the pleasures and punishments of
anti-travel in Spain and Portugal.
By Douglas Cruickshank
October 23, 1999
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"Mexican Madonna" on the run from sex charges; Did singer include secret satanic messages on her records? And how do you play a CD backward?
By Douglas Cruickshank
August 5, 1999
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Bullets can't touch him. He's impervious to poison. And bombs -- Ha! He laughs at your bombs!
By Douglas Cruickshank
July 22, 1999
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Overdosing on "ecstasy" scare stories; why are female sportswriters whining?
Letters to the Editor
July 14, 1999
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Why Japan doesn't get the Internet (yet); Neil LaBute's violence is shocking, but not surprising.
Letters to the Editor
July 6, 1999
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Plus: Sex 'n' roll, Hell-Fire Dick, the dwarf war and other rattling mumpers.
By Douglas Cruickshank
July 3, 1999
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Want a drink? "Come to mama"; who you callin' a
potato? Queensland's Hanson, better at dishing it out than taking it,
bristles at spud slur. Plus: Art world breakthrough: Otter shakes a
tailfeather, creates masterpiece.
By Douglas Cruickshank
June 26, 1999
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From the mixed-up files of Mr. Lee Harvey Oswald; plus a sad story about a bull who fatefully lost his way on the road to Pamplona, and a touching Wittgensteinian lesson about backing up our work on the computer.
By Douglas Cruickshank
June 24, 1999
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I wander, therefore I am; and has anyone else noticed all the fur floating around?
By Douglas Cruickshank
June 19, 1999
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Like great art, masterful crime writing can move our souls and thrill
our hearts while conveying a timeless, yet utterly human, story.
By Douglas Cruickshank
June 17, 1999
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Come all ye ignoble etymologists: It's contest time! Define "hum cap," win a T-shirt. Plus: Southern-fried music lit's finest hour: "Rythm Oil."
By Douglas Cruickshank
June 12, 1999
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Jeepers creepers, voters follow bouncing peepers! New goodfella-in-chief has never been accused of engaging in oral sex, or giving "Leaves of Grass" to young women. In other words, he's squeaky clean by today's standards.
By Douglas Cruickshank
June 10, 1999
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We litigate therefore we are: Ellroy and Condi Nast may have to suck fur; drummed out of U.S., rock legend Ginger Baker will solo polo in South Africa; and (not again!) the Freemasons are cookin' up a world-domination scheme!
By Douglas Cruickshank
June 5, 1999
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Ad was from hell, but so is the lawsuit; Horowitz should blame GOP for security lapses.
Letters to the Editor
June 4, 1999
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In the bureau's wanted-poster department, a budding poet blooms.
By Douglas Cruickshank
June 3, 1999
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Parents of a girl killed in car crash sue a rent-a-car company, claiming Irishmen are "bound to get drunk."
By Douglas Cruickshank
May 22, 1999
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There are a thousand stories in the Naked City -- but almost none of them involve the Lord of Flatulence.
By Douglas Cruickshank
May 20, 1999
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Hefner's Viagra-enhanced salary; dirty secrets of Squirrel Nutkin
By Douglas Cruickshank
May 15, 1999
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Vegas' mob past rises up and bites its neon butt; Marla's shoe-loving man convicted.
By Douglas Cruickshank
May 13, 1999
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Vegas' mob past rises up and bites its neon butt; Marla's shoe-loving' man convicted
By Douglas Cruickshank
May 13, 1999
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Even a full-blown Portis gnasherfest couldn't get big gorgonzola Mike Eisner to say cheese.
By Douglas Cruickshank
May 8, 1999
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Plus: The adventures of the unholy trinity and Mother Bernadette
By Douglas Cruickshank
May 1, 1999