For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others. -Nelson Mandela
I woke up in such a great mood today. I don’t know what the hell happened.-Mike Damone
On any given day, I do quite a bit of thinking about the type of guy I want to end up with, mostly because my taste in men leaves something to be desired.
Thirty-eight year-old Chad Swampf, an English professor in the suburbs of Chicago, finds himself getting very excited this time of the year as the upcoming NCAA College Basketball Tournament as well as the beginning of Major League Baseball season provides him with several opportunities to inform complete strangers that he is not into sports at all.
I was in a small spaceship, galaxies away from home when I realized I had lost my mind.
Todd sits nervously in his chair, reading the Italian menu sitting in his sweaty palms. He’s berating himself internally for choosing this place, he doesn’t know how to read or speak Italian.
The pale grey, pink sky was fading in the rearview mirror as I drove along the canyon road that leads home after a joyful time at the coast. Bob Marleyʼs “Waiting In Vain” came on and immediately Iʼm reminded of a special memory with my Dad, who passed a couple years ago.
“I hope you don’t look up to her,” my mother scoffed from our kitchen. I don’t remember what my hero had done now to solicit that comment, but I responded with a halfhearted “I don’t.
We live in a loud, obnoxious, ugly, and yes sometimes orange “Trumped-up” world. We all want a little more peace… a little calmer.
It’s the reason why people sit through funerals, attend weddings, wait expectantly outside delivery rooms—that unnamable presence that accompanies death and birth and the consummation of love. They’re all hoping for a glimpse at the infinite. They’re all looking for something profound.
When it comes to potential marital crises, none of your petty problems will ever compare to those of Sheila and Joel Hammond, the main characters of the Netflix original series Santa Clarita Diet.
I finally got the call. A friend of mine, who runs several legitimate businesses, but tends to spend his off time in the shadows had told me about a private, big baller home game held weekly in the penthouse suite of a Los Angeles area, deluxe, high-rise apartment.
I had just arrived in Paris after spending the past five weeks in Angola managing some offshore drilling rigs. Shitty job. After laying down the rules, I got some pushback from the locals. Not a surprise. Typical work politics down there.
Our latest Shine subject is Alfonso “ALF” Rawls. ALF is a skateboarding legend and really good soul who can still rip everything with freaky styley style.
When people ask me where I started doing stand up comedy and I say “Hawaii,” it’s always met with assumptive skepticism. They never relay it with actual words, but their raised brows and frowns gives me all the signal I need. I agree, it is an insane idea to perceive. How does one go to paradise and ultimately decide that telling jokes is a feasible way of life? It’s part perception, duration, and realization.
Ymani Barbee has been a huge part of ATA since day one. Aside from being one of our featured bad ass and beautiful models throughout the site, pretty much all of the article headline images in ATA were brilliantly created by Ymani, in spite of ATA’s sometimes indecipherable vision.
Season 2 of Santa Clarita Diet has finally arrived. When we last left the not-so-heroic heroes of our story, they had basically messed up everything. To be fair, poor Sheila did randomly turn into a zombie with no explanation as to why (can we get to that part of the story, please?), which is enough to make any family a little crazy.
With out dating myself, my formidable years were spent in a time and place where there was a semi-negative connotation linked to tattoos. In the decades that I’ve been on this rock circling the sun, I’ve seen the acceptance of having tattoos, then exposed tattoos in the work place, then full blown sleeves as one’s first tattoo, and now the general welcoming of face tattoos.
I am light. I am the light of my soul. I am beautiful. I am bountiful. I am bright. I am. I am. Say this out loud. Does it sound like bullshit to that inner voice?
I try to get 5 or 6 runs in the morning, then 5 or 6 runs after lunch. Its important to me to feel like I’ve put in the work, ‘punched in’ for the shift, when I ride. Makes the day have some more importance and meaning. A purpose if you will.
Let’s face it, no parent ever wants to admit it: their child grew up to be a serial killer. But, hey, it happens. A very small percentage of the population become serial killers, those are the facts. So, fess up, parents. Is your child exhibiting signs? Here’s an unscientific guide by which to tell.
I’m a Chicago sports fan. Not the most hardcore admittedly, but I do hold a deep appreciation for its teams. The people that can spew out genuine stories about the fanaticism that lives inside the confines of America’s greatest city.
We want to believe that we are morally “good”, but when the shit actually hits the metaphorical—or literal—fan, sometimes we fail.
In today’s music world, it seems my teenage kids are hooked on every two-bit, no-name hip hop or rap artist who can mumble “Skirt, Skirt” (which is a rapper mimicking the sound of an expensive sports car screeching its tires on the asphalt) behind some poorly programmed bass and drum track.
Comedy becomes an unreliable drug, one that sends you shooting to the moon or crashing into the fiery depths of hell.