What would William Shakespeare look like today? If you answered, “I dunno, a pile of dust and bone fragment?” you are technically correct, but not quite accepting the spirit in which the question was presented.

“IS SARS BACK? SIMILAR VIRUS KILLS FIVE IN SAUDI ARABIA” Meanwhile, “Scientists concerned at H7N9 bird flu outbreak that has killed 24 people”

“Is it peculiar that she twerks in the mirror?” Janelle Monae asks in her new duet with Erykah Badu. The answer is that if I looked, sounded, danced, wrote music or made videos even a small fraction as awesomely as either of these two, I wouldn’t do anything but twerk in the mirror all day every day for the rest of my life. There is no way to not love this.

“Amid a global rollout of its new mini-SUV, General Motors is pulling an international television commercial for its Chevrolet Trax — an ad featuring a song including the lyric ‘ching ching, chop suey,’ plus other references that offended Asian viewers as well as dated depictions of the Middle East. Perhaps the strangest part of the scandal is that each of those references offended different markets in the rollout in a different way… The lyrics include references to China as ‘the land of Fu Manchu’ where girls say ‘ching, ching, chop-suey, swing some more!’ The song also references racial stereotypes of Arabs, Gypsies and Japanese.”

“To millions of fans worldwide, he was the trend-setting, backwards-pants wearing one-half of Kriss Kross who loved making music. But to us, he was just Chris — the kind, generous and fun-loving life of the party. Though he was only with us a short time, we feel blessed to have been able to share some incredible moments with him. His legacy will live on through his music, and we will forever love him.”
 — Donna Kelly Pratte eulogizes her son Chris, a.k.a. “Mac Daddy,” who was found dead yesterday at his home in Atlanta, of an apparent drug overdose. He was 34.

“Can obese cyclists sign up for the city’s new bike-share program? Fat chance! It is ‘prohibited’ for any rider who weighs more than 260 pounds to sign up for the soon-to-launch initiative — prompting backlash from riders who say the fat-shaming rule is enough to make them fly off the handle. Everyone who signs up for the program has to agree to a contract, which states users ‘must not exceed maximum weight limit (260 pounds)’ because the bikes can’t hold that much heft.”

So literary, so sensual. Keith Gessen, Darin Strauss, Claire Messud, and the madness that is Ask Roulette.

by Lindsey Weber

• What is the smartest thing a child has ever said?
• How intelligent is Natalie Portman?
• What does it feel like to finally stop biting your nails?
• How do farts behave in low gravity?
• Why do people use “Nope” even though “No” is easier to say and shorter to spell?
• How does one stop a charging buffalo?
• Why do people hate One Direction and Justin Bieber?
• Do women ever get a feeling that a man has a big penis without seeing it?
• Does it matter if the text/phone conversations I have with my girlfriend are boring?
• How do captive dolphins feel?
• If you injure a bug, should you kill it or let it live?
• What Internet memes have changed your life for the better or at least had a profound impact on it?
• What are the most difficult things people (have to) learn in their twenties?
• Would becoming homeless be a good strategy to cut costs?
• How can I overcome envy of people who are my age but are far more successful than I am?
• What should I do about my early life crisis?
• What is the most heroic thing you have ever done?
• What does it feel like to be a self-made millionaire under the age of 25?
• How is being a billionaire better than being a millionaire?
• I am turning 27, and feel I have wasted a lot of time. Is it too late?
• What are the top 10 things that we should be informed about, in life?
• What does it feel like to have your spouse die?
• Why do living things die?
• Why are the people who answer 911 calls so relaxed?
• How do you disappear from sight?

Lindsey Weber has never hit Inbox Zero.

★★★★★ The clouds thinned and lifted into sunshine that put a gleam on anything even vaguely glossy — a leather jacket, a colored bicycle bell, the sip-cap of an empty water bottle left upright. The breeze was cool, too gentle to stir the leaves. The thermometer had crossed from the 50s to the 60s, and the second jacket worn over the first was a mistake, but not a serious one. In late afternoon, cheap bricks were mirrors. Light got in behind a passing woman’s sunglasses and shone out amber. There was no better way from Elizabeth Street to the West Village than to walk it, a mile and a quarter along Bleecker Street, through the mid-block shade and the open space of the avenues. All along the way, in the downtown distance, the Freedom Tower made up for its architectural shortcomings with plain height and persistence, a beacon or sentinel holding steady above the buildings and treetops. Sunbeams crossed the dinner table, and there were sunbeams outside still when the meal was over.

“Could picking your nose and eating it actually be good for you?”