The following is a timeline of the events involving Nini’s Deli, owner Juan “Juany” Riesco and his family, specifically brother Jose Riesco. This is an attempt to bring every detail to light in order to allow the public to make their own decision to either support or discontinue support for Nini’s Deli and Chicago Native, Juan’s apparel brand.

The crowd is a rousing mix of laughter and anticipation. There’s a group of people on our left; old enough that I’m certain must have, at some point, by dare, decision, or pressure, taken some hallucinogenic before homeroom back in the ’70’s. Some of them pass around a flask while the rest huddle amongst themselves to protect the lighter, ensuring the joint is sparked without issue. A distant chant of, “STP! STP! STP!” soon rips through the crowd like a wildfire until the entire venue screams in unison. Stagehands break down old equipment, move in new guitars and test drums and mics. The distorted, chaotic opening act Cage the Elephant have stopped playing and retreated to the back, maybe even a bit earlier than planned, making me believe they are probably decent men on some level. While I commend them for their efforts, I came to see the greatest band of all-time: Stone Temple Pilots.

I recently stumbled across this video that shows Dr. Seuss’ darker art. Almost like he had an alter ego, Seuss used darker colors, sharper angles, and drew more sinister characters. It’s awesome, mainly because I’m sure he tripped absolute-fucking-balls before creating these. The best part is that I feel like a kid again, rediscovering an entirely new body of work from one of the artists I look up to most.

My mom raised me as a single parent, juggling two jobs, undergrad classes, and everything else on her plate while making my Halloween costumes from scratch every year. She’s my best friend and the single hardest working person I know.

That being said, this Bill Burr bit on #moms is still fucking killer.

I struggled with understanding @tiktok for a long time. I didn’t really see anything except 15 year-old kids dancing to shitty music. Everything I hate in life, rolled into one looping clip. It was weird. What the fuck am I supposed to do on this thing?

So I did a little research. Turns out there’s a darker side to @tiktok where you can post ANYTHING you want! It’s awesome!

Isolation is a strategy employed by health officials during a pandemic to slow the spread of the illness in a population. It is also a strategy I’ve employed to avoid seeing other people on a daily basis for the better part of three years.

Toilet paper isn't the only thing you can wipe your ass with. The hierarchy is as follows:

There has officially never been a better time to buy—or rationalize buying—some or all of these featured (VERY affordable) sneakers and rotating them for the subsequent 6 months.

These are, I imagine, the observations strangers have as they see me walk past them in my work gear.

Can things get any worse? I mean, obviously they can but I don’t even want to imagine how. Mass shootings, Charlottesville, that Muslim Ban. kids in cages, Rush Limbaugh getting the Medal of Freedom, Ignorance, fear, prejudice, and hatred everywhere you look. Some dude was literally asked, mid-speech, why he didn’t stay in Mexico. How did we manage to—Hi, yeah, can we please get an order of the potstickers and beef asparagus skewers to get started, and another round, thank you—*back to group* how did we manage to take such a huge leap backwards so quickly?

Say what you want about Valentine’s Day, but doing something genuinely kind and a little bit over the top for someone else is a good vibe and we need more good vibes right now.

Of course, there’s no such thing as a bad hoodie. If it’s got all the essential ingredients—cozy fabric, roomy hood, etc.—it’s worth your time, in at least some capacity. Even the sloppiest, bleach-stained-iest hoodie around has the ability to take your enjoyment of a Sunday afternoon on the couch from an 8 to a full-on, rock-hard 10.

Layers are not only functional, keeping you warm throughout the day. They’ll also help you take an ordinary fit and make it 10x more interesting. It’s the single easiest thing you can do, if you do it right. Start practical. Keep the color scheme neutral.

Alright, folks. We are officially in the legal recreational marijuana era in Illinois. At this precise moment in time, you are just minutes away from your choice of the best strains, tastiest edibles, coolest accessories, and indispensable expert advice. Here’s a quick guide in case you don’t know how you’re getting absolutely ripped tonight. Happy New Years, even if you’re not #420 friendly. And for those who are, maybe I’ll see ya in line at the dispensaries.

I was 17 when I smoked for the first time. It was a group of us, riding around in my buddy’s Bronco, thinking we were the shit. Thinking we made it. Lol. Smh.

TJ Miller describes a lavish Hollywood party and his encounter with Paris Hilton.

Winter is here, and that means that it’s time to bring out the heavy stuff. When it comes to fashion, I consider myself a bit of a savant. I layer like a motherfucker, (because I don’t check the weather before going outside), and have a wardrobe as versatile as my sexuality. Like plenty of other guys my age, my bank account isn’t quite thiccc enough to have the amount of fashionable items that one would desire. Through this struggle, I rely on what I call staple pieces.

Ghosting: It’s real, and it’s happening everywhere, to seemingly everyone. The topic recently came up while I was out to dinner with some friends. We asked a buddy of mine if his girl was joining for an upcoming concert.

“We’re not talking anymore, I think.”

We pressed him on the issue, and he finally relented his silence and spilled the beans: “She straight up ghosted me.”

As with every man in America—even Ryan Gosling, probably—I’ve experienced several unrequited crushes over the years. My God, are they painful. Horrible. But worse, still, is repeated exposure to a special subset of the unrequited crush. And that is, I believe, of the absolute cruelest variety. Namely, crushes on women who talk dirty. As in, women who are dreaded just friends but who discuss with you in vivid detail their exploits with other men who are not just friends. Avoid this situation because it is hell in its purest form—a constant and excruciating reminder of that which you will never experience. The following cases are culled from my own experience and are offered with the expectation that such anecdotal evidence is but the first step in the long march toward a comprehensive knowledge of preventing the “just friends” label. In other words, I hope my notes will help.