In Virginia’s 5th Congressional District, Bigfoot erotica aficionado Denver Riggleman defeated Olivia Wilde’s mom, Leslie Cockburn (Yale ’74, married to Andrew Cockburn, son of the late British communist journalist Claude Cockburn).
If I were still in Virginia, I believe my last residence in Fauquier County would have been in his district.
In Minnesota’s 5th Congressional District, Ilhan Omar, a Muslim Somali democrat won a landslide 78.2% win, despite apparently being handicapped by having fraudulently and bigamously married her own brother in 2009 in order make it possible for him to immigrate to the United States. (Scott Johnson, 2016)
A broom is not just a broom. It is statement about who you are. Your broom expresses your values, your identity, your respect for skilled craftsmanship, and your passion for your home. Obviously, you, too, need an artisanal broom made by a sophisticated, college-educated woman living in Brooklyn. (Or not.)
Vox tells you all about them and where to get them.
In the spring of 2017, Erin Rouse quit her job at the lighting design firm Lindsey Adelman to make brooms full time. She picked up the skill during her time in that job, which allowed employees to study in workshops around the world. She went to the Canterbury Shaker Village in New Hampshire, where she studied with a master broomsquire, the technical term for a broom-maker.
At $80 for a hand broom and $200 for a full-size version, which can reach $350 with a pleated skirt and handle cover, Rouseâ€™s brooms arenâ€™t cheap. Assuming all of her materials are prepped and ready to go â€” the process of cleaning and sorting by size a 100-pound batch of broom corn can take three or four days â€” she can make one in roughly two hours, plus the time required to trim the broom and sew a skirt and sheath. If sheâ€™s also dyeing the broom, that adds another five days to its production time. …
There are people willing to pay good money for a beautiful, well-made broom. Hilary Robertson, a New York-based interior stylist and set designer, is the target audience for that.
â€œI donâ€™t really want to own anything that I donâ€™t find beautiful, even if itâ€™s a washing-up bowl,â€ Robertson says over the phone. â€œThatâ€™s my business, and the way I live.â€
She recently bought one of Rouseâ€™s brooms for her weekend home in Connecticut, an old schoolhouse with an extension. It has stone floors that get dusty very quickly, so Robertson needed a broom, and it has very little storage space, so she needed that broom to look especially good. Indeed, anyone whoâ€™s buying a luxury broom is doing so because they consider it part of their furniture, Robertson says. But that doesnâ€™t mean itâ€™s a choice lightly made.
Esquire has a real life story out of Oz that could have been written by O. Henry.
The greatest adventures happen when you least expect them. And on July 15, 2010, Luke â€œMilkyâ€ Moore never thought one of the greatest in recent memory was about to start for him. …
Though he grew up comfortablyâ€”his father, Brett, was a bank executive, and his mother, Annette, a child-care supervisorâ€”heâ€™d been employed since thirteen, bagging groceries, mowing lawns, selling insurance. He was a bright student, but he opted to forgo college for work. â€œI always thought Iâ€™d be a millionaire one day,â€ he says in his thick Australian accent. While his mates were out drunkenly hunting wild boar, Milky was investing in hedge funds, and at nineteen he bought his own home, for himself and his high school sweetheart, Megan.
But then, in the fall of 2008, the life heâ€™d worked so hard to achieve took a series of tragic turns. It started with the stock-market crash, which depleted his $50,000 life savings. With Goulburnâ€™s economy in turmoil, he lost his job as a forklift driver. A few months later, he was driving in the early-morning darkness to paint happy birthday on a boulder near town to surprise Megan when he fell asleep at the wheel of his white Mitsubishi pickupâ€”and drifted right into the path of an 18-wheeler, which plowed over his truck.
He awoke hanging out his shattered window covered in purple and black paintâ€”but, miraculously, alive. â€œIt was incredible that he survived,â€ recalls his father. Milky had a broken collarbone, arm, and ribs, and a ruptured spleenâ€”but the scars ran deeper. He fell into a crippling depression, barely able to drag himself from bed or hold on to the job his father had helped him get as a teller at his bank. Adding to the pressure, his mother was suffering from a debilitating degenerative back disease, sometimes unable to get out of bed herselfâ€”leaving Milky to care for his year-old brother, Noah. It wasnâ€™t long before his relationship with Megan ended under the strain, and Milky assumed the blame. By mid-2010, he was broke, alone, unemployed, and on the brink of foreclosure.
And thatâ€™s just when life suddenly gave him the equivalent of a royal flush on the pokies. It happened on July 15, the day his biweekly mortgage payment was due. With no money in the bank, Milky was bracing himself for the beginning of the end. But then something strange happened. The automatic debitâ€”500 Australian dollarsâ€”went from his savings account at his bank, St. George, into his mortgage account. Two weeks later, it happened again. When he checked his balance, he could see that he had racked up the corresponding debt, and interest, under his name. Once he hit the limit, he assumed, the overdrafts would surely stop.
But they didnâ€™t. Fortnight after fortnight, his mortgage got paid. Thinking this crazy, he put in a request for $5,000 to be transferred to his mortgage account. A couple days later, he called his bank to check on the transferâ€”figuring, at worst, he had reached his limit. â€œDid that go through?â€ he asked the teller, who told him casually, â€œYes, thatâ€™s all paid.â€ A few days after that, on a lark, he called St. George and asked the bank to transfer $50,000 to his mortgage account. â€œI was literally thinking that Iâ€™ll just wing it and see if it works,â€ he recalls. And sure enough, it did. The $50,000 deficit was charged on his savings account, but the bank didnâ€™t seem to notice, or, if it did, it didnâ€™t care. It was like getting a free, unlimited loan. â€œI probably had a bit of a smile on my face then,â€ he says. â€œNot smiling because I was thinking I was scamming the bank, but smiling because I was like, â€˜This is my fresh start.â€™â€
By the time he sold his home a year later, heâ€™d paid down his mortgage so much from the overdrafts that he cleared $150,000 (US$115,000).
Though heâ€™d been quiet about this so far, he finally confided in a friend. â€œWhat do you reckon I do?â€ Milky asked him. What do you do, in other words, when youâ€™re single, twenty-four, and just got a pile of free money from the bank? No-brainer, his friend replied. â€œLetâ€™s party!â€
Milky was going to Paradise. …
Milkyâ€™s rock-star lifestyle became routine. Sleep late, hit the gym, buy memorabilia online, slap the pokies, cocktails at the strip joint, then dancing all night in the clubs. On the nights he didnâ€™t pick up, he sought the ready alternative: the many legal brothels in town. â€œEspecially with girls,â€ he says bashfully, â€œyouâ€™ve got to make the most of every opportunity, because you might turn around and thatâ€™ll be gone.â€ One week, he threw down $40,000 and rented out an entire brothel to himself for four days. And so it was that, one day in November 2012, he barely registered what happened when he went to pay for repairs on his Alfa Romeo. He was standing there in the car shop, hungover and bronzed, when he saw a message heâ€™d never seen before come up on the credit-card machine. â€œCall bank security,â€ it read.
Milky blinked a few times, trying to digest the moment heâ€™d feared for the past two years. Fuck, he thought. Well, thatâ€™s done. He went back to his apartment in a daze. How could this just end? There was no old life. There was only this one, and the hole he had dug for himself. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He grabbed as many stacks of cash as he could find around his penthouse, drove to the airport, and booked the next flight to Phuket.