This article is cross-posted from In These Times Since its inception, the Huffington Post has relied heavily on unpaid bloggers. Huffington Post co-founder Ken Lerer said in 2007 that a key part of the plan of the website was to…

Auden is the worst famous poet of the 20th century. He simply cannot write a decent line, let alone a decent poem. Some of his very worst poems are among those “classics” found in every anthology of Modern poetry. They’ll…

But there is one element that the two rampage killings share: American Twerpdom… and the unrecognized psychosis that twerpdom can produce when all around you you’re being judged by a culture that lionizes John Galt fratboys and Tucker Max pus bags…

In the months since Tracy Lawrence was found dead in her Las Vegas apartment at the age of 43, her story has only taken on more significance—even as her death has been forgotten. This is a story that demands our attention, a story we must not allow ourselves to forget.

It is the first time in the 11-year history of The exile, that our newspaper has ever been censored. What’s odd about it for us is that the “Fucking For Medvedev” spread, while not exactly family-friendly, is hardly the most shocking thing we’ve ever printed; we’ve run a cover depicting a nearly-nude Putin fucking Bill Clinton from behind, another cover depicting Putin as a midget in the Hitlerjugen getting his head patted by a pleased Fuhrer, and a cover demanding that President Yeltsin “Die Already!” during one of his many illnesses.

Which brings me to the part of the Pussy Riot story that the Western won’t touch: A huge number of Russians, many of them decent Russians, many of them the type we consider “our” Russians — want to get medieval on the Pussy Riot girls, string them up in Red Square, and make it hurt.

Dear General Public, I’ve had to speak to you before about your gruesome reverence for dead celebrities. Every famous person who dies is instantly idolized out of all recognition. The same ugly venal toad of a has-been star or notoriously…