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I'm not actually behind on the New Yorker. I'm caught up. I just haven't been writing about it. Kelefa Sanneh's stuff continues to be awesome, including his boxing article (not free) in the July 26 issue. But in that article, it's mentioned that Chris Brown is singing the national anthem to open a big boxing match. Really, Chris Brown? You're going out of your way to be associated with fisticuffs? Is that a good PR move?

Also, I have not yet finished Karen Russell's short story in the same issue (which you can read), but it is g.d. incredible. She is my most favorite choice in the "20 under 40" thing they did a couple months back, and I have been eagerly anticipating when they'll run her piece. Well, no disappointment. I mean, read this paragraph alone:

At birth, his skull had looked like a little violin, cinched and silent. The doctor who had uncorked the baby from his dead mother in the chilly belly of the New York Foundling Hospital had begun shaking him to a despondent meter, thinking, Ah, what a truly rude awakening! Because this tiny baby—holding his breath, refusing to wiggle—was failing at the planet’s etiquette. He did not blink. He was resolute and blue in the doc’s blood-soaked arms.

Also, if there's one article I want to direct you to that I'm not going to forget about, it's Tad Friend's piece on Steve Carell. Too bad it's behind the pay wall. Anyway, it certainly makes me like Carell no less than I did, but it also kind of explains the current trend of improvisational comedies and provides a window into why this is a trend and, by example, why I'm not such a big fan of it. That's not to say it doesn't produce gold, but I am a fan of the well-crafted 2.5-minute pop song much more than the extended, sloppy, occasionally brilliant jam, and that holds true when it comes to comedy nearly as much as with music. Yay for scripts.