"This dammed board let a ghost loose in my house now it's haunted": A collection of customer reviews of the Ouija® board. The trick is that they're all treats and the treat may be that they're all tricks.

We've long relied on our canine friends to provide boozy sustenance in our times of greatest need, ever since 16th-century St. Bernards revived snowbound Alpine travelers with mini-kegs of brandy. Actually, that's almost entirely made up. But hey, this dog can fetch beer from the fridge on command!

So far, Bandit the Aussie cattle dog can only bring his human an empty, coozie-wrapped bottle—and that took six months of training—but his achievements are a shining beacon of hope (refracted through a cold, sweating brown bottle) for a future where our beloved pets help enable our drinking problems.

Good boy, Bandit. Good, good boy.

[h/t Grub Street]

America is stricken with persistent malaise, if not terminal decline. Wages and savings are flat, seas and temperatures are rising, and political acrimony is choking humanity like a splinter of chicken bone wedged in a pound mutt's bronchi. And these "hipster ice cubes" are just too goddamned big.

Despite humanity's recent confirmation of the law of entropy, there is still one activity that inspires our bright-eyed inner pioneers to birth new bourgeois advances. There is, you see, a "cocktail renaissance" on, and Mother Jones notices that this lively spirit of disruption has spread to frozen water:

If you want to understand the latest trend in craft cocktails, you could do worse than to listen to Outkast. What's cooler than being cool is indeed ice cold. Specifically, it's stored at minus-2 degrees, sculpted with a Japanese band saw, and retails for $1 a cube.

Yes, artisanal ice is now a thing. In hipster meccas from Portland to Williamsburg, bars are serving up their drinks on extra-dense, extra-clear cubes, produced through a laborious process of freezing and carving. Cocktail connoisseurs swear the difference in flavor is worth the extra effort: In addition to being more aesthetically pleasing, the cubes' density and relatively large size mean they melt more slowly and dilute your drink less. But there's evidence that the fancy ice might not be the coolest thing ever to happen to the environment.

What could be less cool than those puns? Ice cubes the size of your hand. Of course they suck for the environment, because it takes a lot of energy to freeze a larger mass. And don't even think of making them at home in your already too-cold freezer, because "though it's possible to create them with silicon molds, 'the result will still be a cloudy ice product. It's just not that appealing in drinks,'" says a guy who will hand-cut fancy ice chunks for your oh-so-interesting Bulleit rye.

But humanity is probably already too far gone to save by opting for smaller ice cubes. It's really about you. And you shouldn't want ice cubes this big. Why would you want such things?

They can't be swirled. They can't be swizzled. You can't run them around in your mouth. If you're out and about and you are served a tiny drink with a little alcohol and a fucking Jeroboam Gibraltar chunk of solid chilly, and someone comes up to talk to you, you will have no fallback, no alternative to looking them in the eye and engaging them, empty mouthed, in stultifying unwelcome conversation while your hand grows colder and darker than a sherpa's trying to massage breath out of an unconscious trust-funder in a squall on K2.

It's not hipster. It's not artisanal. It's inconvenient water. Go with ice chips. Dilutes your drink too much? Stay home. Life is brief and uncertain. Don't muck it up with big ice.

Welcome to Midweek Madness, in which your friendly neighborhood idiot goes door-to-door looking for chicken wings and ends up with suspicious-looking nuggets instead. This week, Oprah's car runs over an anonymous foot, Kanye threatens to crack the Kardashian Safe of B-Roll Lies, Tommy Mottola is maybe tryna holler at Mariah and Blake Lively "wants the sex to be a surprise."

US Weekly

RENEE'S SHOCKING PLASTIC SURGERY

Let's just count ourselves lucky that more magazines didn't put Renee on the cover and plunge ourselves elbow-deep into the shithole. Good news for Samaritans: The pregnant Duggar woman is registered at a Walmart in Rogers, AR if you want to buy her gifts. Items on her registry include Subway gift cards and Fanta. Babies, am I right? They're always like "GIVE ME A SIX-INCH TURKEY ON HONEY OAT, EXTRA FANTA," you know? James Blunt regrets his song "Beautiful," Madonna is gonna need like $30 million before she ever sings "Like a Virgin" again. I too regret my greatest accomplishment (once eating 18 pieces of pizza at lunch in the dining hall in college). The Billy Bob blood vial that Angelina Jolie used to hang around her neck was "barely two drops," says Billy Bob. So not a vial, really, just a casual couple o' blood drops. It's like how "you wear your [kid's] baby hair in one." Yes, exactly! A tiny baby boy named Hunter Hayes is telling us things we don't know about him. #23 is "I can't sleep in the middle of the pillow. I get claustrophobic" and #24 is "Every time I think I'm getting into a book, I don't." Very cool! What's your name again dude?? Taylor Swift's friends used to ask her: "ARE YOU AN ELF?" This is purportedly because she grew up on that dang Christmas tree farm but it is also because of my 9000-word essay linking Elfness to Whiteness all the way from its medieval Germanic etymology (albh for white, alpt for swan, elbe for girl who's never actually been inside a bodega, etc). Someone wanted to put together a photo spread of celebs eating donuts (which they spell "doughnuts": NOT canon) and they had to go back SIX YEARS in the archives in order to put 10 pictures together. "Glazed and confused," the caption chortles through a gentle waterfall of tears. "Pete Wentz handed out pastries in LA to promote a 2008 album." Oprah Winfrey's driver ran over a fan's foot in Miami and Oprah immediately jumped out of the car and yelled, "That's worth a picture!" Oprah in a studio making it rain broken bones. "U get a fracture!" she screams into ether. "U GET A FRACTURE TOO!!!" The SNL women who have babies are all on a group text that Tina Fey describes as "so dirty." Poop dirty? Sex dirty? SEX AND POOP DIRTY?? Publish it as an oral history please please please. Oh no here's the Renee situation. Not into any of this except for the sidebar of other celebrities who talk about their plastic surgery proudly: Courtney Love's like, "I took advice from Goldie Hawn [that] I should get a face-lift at 35." Yeah! Lift that face, eat those toast soldiers. Blake Lively and the action figure she lives with "want the sex to be a surprise." Ooohh, I loooove surprise sex, it's like, you think that action figure is inanimate, and then all of a sudden it pops a bone!! Lively also likes to take baths with "lots of good salts." *Harlan Pepper from Best in Show turns to the camera* "Sea salt… kosher salt… picklin' salt… that Himalayan pink stuff…" Here's a feature on celebrity riders!! Things that ride on top of celebrities include Katy Perry's "off-white egg chairs" and Pharrell's "one framed picture of Carl Sagan." Also Beyoncé loves eating lots of backstage chicken and last year spent $2,200 at a Nando's, which I think we can all agree sets an unattainable model for femininity in 2014.

Grade: 1222 (the number of chicken wings you can get at Nando's for $2,200)

Star

ASHTON CAUGHT IN BED WITH ANOTHER WOMAN

Let's check in with the simmering, explosive Gender Expression Police Jubilee currently being held at the K-Name Crisis Ranch: latest in is that Kris Jenner is dating a young dude and "reserving her venom." Eeek but don't hold it in too long because you'll get an infection!! Ariana Grande has an assistant follow her around with a bottle of water with a straw in it, and when she gets thirsty she screams "WATER!!" and the assistant scurries over to fill her up. But beware if the water gets too warm from all the scurrying because Ariana will just spit it right back out like she did in public at the BBC Teen Awards! "Yablaaawbeeeee mayyyy bayeebeee," garbled Ariana by way of explanation. Here in the magazine is a photo of Ashton Kutcher in bed with another woman from June 2012. They are clothed (and all the clothes match clothes Ashton was wearing out and about around that time) and also seem like it is the morning and they are only pretending to be asleep. Who took this picture??? The woman is a Swedish makeup artist who "didn't want to go all the way" and just settled for Ashton going down on her?? "Settled." This happened around the same time Ashton started seeing Mila Kunis again so they are trying to make it very scandalous but it seems pretty chill, honestly. Tori Spelling and Dean McDermott's "champagne tastes are colliding with their beer budget." Just buy cheap champagne guys! More about Renee Z: apparently an attendant at Soho House thought she was a party crasher and Jennifer Lawrence had to throw in the positive ID. Yeah, everyone is over this face thing, may we never speak of it again. I love that Renee Z is like "Yeah guys I look different…. IM IN LOVE." Yes you are, babe. Hey: if you're looking to switch up the HUE of your TRESSES, the magazine suggests BRONDE. Like Jennifer Lopez! Scary Spice kept all her Spice Girls outfits and plays dress-up with her 15-year-old daughter in them. Does McNulty come over and take a bunch of kewl pics???

Grade: Medical (the type of hazmat suit we are going to need to buy Ariana's water girl)

InTouch

DIVORCE BATTLE OVER BABY NORTH

Selena Gomez is trying to seduce Legolas Greenleaf, son of the elf-king Thranduil, Prince of the Woodland Realm. The circle of revenge and slap-fights goes on and on!! But also, hands up if you don't really believe that Legolas's ex Miranda Kerr would ever fuck Justin Bieber!! Jay-Z and Beyoncé renewed their vows in Paris but "they are not out of the woods yet." Are they out of the woods are they out of the woods are they out of the woods are they out of the woods yet (NO) are they in the clear yet are they in the clear yet are they in the clear yet (WOODS). The Kardashians have a secret safe that contains tons of unseen, damaging footage from the show!!!!!! *burglarizes the Kardashian home and types 420 into safe over and over until I die of madness* This is from a story about how Kim and Kanye are about to get DIVORCED or whatever, because Kim and Nori are "art projects" and every time Kanye goes to Paris it is exactly like a "sucker punch to the head." Evidence for Kanye wanting to split includes the speculation that, "if he's single, Kanye can strengthen his ties to Kim-haters Jay Z and Beyoncé." Kendra Wilkinson and a piece of artisanal furniture (a "Hank Baskett") have to establish sexual consent through the use of puppets. "Hank would hold up his puppet and ask Kendra Do you want to have sex?" howls the article. "Kendra's puppet would respond No, not really or Hurry up and get it over with." LOL Cobie Smulders and Taran Killam are expecting baby number two! Let's get the whole family matching Robyn sweaters!!! Paul McCartney went to a 16 Handles on the Upper West Side. ALL YOU NEED IS FRO-YO? sputtered the dying hamster, hopping from key to key. Here is a VERY cool spread highlighting winter 2014's hottest accessory: CELLULITE! *checks thighs* Im sooooooo on trend

Grade: 16 (the number of handles on a handmade Hank Baskett)

Life & Style

SICK, PREGNANT & TORMENTED BY THE QUEEN

This week in CAN U NOT, Tommy Mottola called Mariah Carey to ask if she needed any advice after her split with Nick Cannon. And then a giant house fell on his head! So sorry, Tommy Mottola! Goodbye forever, Tommy Mottola! Here's the headline story, in which Queen Elizabeth orders Sick Kate to GET BACK TO WORK. Kate has been on bed rest because of hyperemesis gravidarum, but the queen was "unimpressed" and made her commoner Cinderella go put on a respectable skirt suit and try not to vomit in front of the president of Singapore. She looked "queasy and off-color," says the magazine. But maybe it was an illness of the social conscience stemming from Singapore's recently-upheld ban on gay sex? I bet that was it. Anyway, QEII says "she worked through her pregnancies" (VERY thin definition of "work" here in this article, let's acknowledge) so Kate can too. She ALSO, for the second year running, hasn't invited Kate's family of gutter-rat Eliza Doolittles to Royal Christmas. William is gallantly stepping in to say "ELLO MUMMY, PLEASE LET MY BISCUIT HAVE SOME MORE BED REST." Ali from the Bachelor CONFESSES…….. *holds breath for two minutes* that she doesn't NEED to get married. *faints* Ashton Kutcher had to do three years of probation in the '90s because he stole money out of his high school vending machine. And look how far he's come.

Grade: 3000 (potentially how many dollars Kutcher could've gotten out of that machine)

OK!

TOM AND LINDSAY: IT'S ON

Some source is claiming Mischa Barton wants to get endorsed by a diet company like Weight Watchers but might have to settle for going on the Biggest Loser because "to a major diet company, signing Mischa would be the same as signing a random person." NUH-UH she's Marissa Cooper, please step off the hate or we are going to end up with another TJ situation on our hands. More about Legolas: he "magically appears every time Selena and Justin break up!" IT'S NOT MAGIC, he's an elf. He also "has a beef with Justin." One single beef. *calls the butcher and orders a beef* Ashlee Simpson is super broke and like, DIANA ROSS, YOU'RE MY MOTHER-IN-LAW, GIVE ME TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. Diana Ross is like, "On a Monday, I am waiting, for you to stop asking me for ten thousand dollars even though you are married to my son" etc. Lindsay Lohan and Tom Cruise are both in London for work, which means they are about to hook up errday and then get married!! The bells are ringing, the romance is "steaming," Lindsay is "buzzing." WHAT ARE WE GOING TO BUY THIS DUO OF STEAMY BEES? Evidence for their nonexistent coupledom includes the fact that Lindsay was one of the girls tapped for the 2005 Mission Impossible 3 casting call that was actually a Scientological Lifetime Servitude Cruise Ship Test Shot to be Cruise's wife. Taylor Swift has been dressing so cute lately just because New York. "I just feel like when I walk out onto the sidewalk, I have to try a little harder." Finally you're talking some sense here, Taylor. If there's one criticism people have ever had of you, it's that you don't try hard enough!!

Grade: 2 (number of beefs I am going to order tomorrow in the interest of incremental change)

Fig. 1-3, In Touch

You have 48 hours to watch the following movies before they leave Netflix with no word on when they will return. Could be in a week, could be years from now. You don't know, and Netflix isn't telling. Luckily a lot of them suck super bad so this will not be painful for you, but then in other cases maybe you will find, upon reflection, that two of those hours is worth spending on something that will soon be just a memory.

OF GREATEST URGENCY

Classics

• Thelma & Louise (1991)
• Steel Magnolias (1989)
• Tetro (2009)
• Broadcast News (1987)
• Single White Female (1992)
• Prince Of Broadway (2008, Lee Daniels)
• six-part travelogue Stephen Fry in America (2008)

Thrillers

• Candyman (1992)
• Cloak & Dagger (1984)
• Red State (2011)
• Bullet Proof Monk (2003)

Homework Assignments

• Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid (1969)
• A Raisin in the Sun (2008)
• King Solomon's Mines (1985)
• Allan Quartermain & the Lost City of Gold (1987)

This Movie

• Small, Beautifully Moving Parts (2011) is about a woman who "fears she is more interested in ultrasound technology than in what's being ultra-sounded."

For Kids

• The semi-crummy live-action versions of both 101 Dalmatians (1996) and The Adventures Of Rocky & Bullwinkle (2000)
• Flicka: Country Pride (2012) in which a horse learns of America
• Bob the Builder and Thomas & Friends, with The Magic School Bus not far behind (4 Nov).

OF LESSER URGENCY BUT WORTH CONSIDERING

• Apocalypse Now/Redux (1979/2001) Two versions of the same movie but each one is ten hours longer than the other.
• Brighton Beach Memoirs (1986) If you want to know what coming of age was like for a straight guy in the 1950s you have only the next 48 hours to find out.
• The Big Chill (1983) is a fine film. Taught me a lot. Old people still like to boogie, for starters. Also how to use handjobs to get what you want. Probably the #1 lesson of that movie. Don't do yoga in front of people, coke is for dickheads, and you better get that handy game on lock.
• St. Elmo's Fire (1985) is the same movie as The Big Chill only the assholes here are now the age of the assholes there. They are WAY worse, though. Except for Demi Moore.
• Starman (1984) is pretty good if you are into like, a Pisces man.
• Footloose (1984) I have never seen this movie but I'm not one for a Kevin Bacon picture so it's probably best. I grew up in theocracies I don't need to dance about it.
• For a Few Dollars More (1965) A real live "spaghetti" western by Sergio Leone with Clint Eastwood and Lee Van Cleef. It's about these two bounty hunters enjoying their spaghetti just fine but then the guy is like, but you could get more spaghetti with more dollars, and that's how communism was vanquished in the Americas.
• Under the Tuscan Sun (2003) A prequel to Eat, Pray, Love where she forgets to pray and has to start the whole thing over again ten years later.
• Say Anything (1989) Ione Skye's Diane Court lowers herself to date Lloyd Dobbler, a simpering fool, and watches her life slowly implode on itself until she is left only with a boombox and the memory of greatness.
• Trees Lounge (1996) Steve Buscemi wrote, directed, starred and everything else'd this movie about a man who can't stop drinking long enough to stop drinking. If you like Steve Buscemi a whole lot, like a your-dad-in-the-90s amount, my guess is you will like this movie.
• Up at the Villa (2000) Kristen Scott Thomas dicks with Americans in pre-WWII Florence, but it's okay because the American is Sean Penn and fuck that guy.
• The Prince of Tides (1991) It takes a genius of a therapist to be like, "Maybe your emotional issues are from that one time a literal boogyman broke into your house and raped your whole family when you were a kid" but only Barbra Streisand could pull off then dating said patient.

OF LEAST URGENCY

• The Dogs of War (1980) Christopher Walken does the most amazing thing you have ever seen on film. Tom Berenger, JoBeth Williams, and Ed O'Neill are also involved in this situation.
• Silent Running (1971) A guy is making ice in the forest? His family is like What is with this ice. That's all I remember. It is so boring. Maybe it's in space, actually, and it's not ice but plants? Maybe River Phoenix finds out he's Russian? Maybe those are all different movies, or maybe every movie is just one Pixar movie. Based on the song by Genesis, or a band that sounds exactly like Genesis, but either way I know for a fact the song is about foliage, plus danger, so there you go. Deduced.
• American Psycho (2000) Not a great adaptation, stripping the story down to plot and creating its own sub/surtext, but a pretty good movie in its own right. Plus it inspired a fun music video.
• Hannibal (2001) This piece of shit, don't watch it. Don't even think about it.
• Les Misérables (1998) A very awesome little boy must deal with everybody's fucking drama and eventually dies. This is the version that lacks Russell Crowe being amazing, but on the other hand it doesn't force you to look at Eddie Redmayne's awful face for even one second, so it's a draw. (It does, however, include the Thénardiers. There will never be a production that leaves them out, which is the really miserable part.)
• The Ninth Gate (1999) speaking of Helena Bonham-Carter, she is Johnny Depp and one or both of them are in this movie, which is not totally boring but only mostly. Sequel to The Eighth Gate.
• Serenity (2005) Look either you've seen this a billion times or you will never see it, but either way I don't feel like we need to discuss it. You know what I mean?
• He Said, She Said (1991) A couple falling out of love must travel the distance between Mars and Venus to find each other again. Or some shit, I don't know. One Elizabeth Perkins does not outweigh the negative vibes of Kevin Bacon + '90s Nathan Lane + fucking Sharon Stone.
• The Battle Of Shaker Heights (2003) – On the one hand it brought Shia LaBoeuf out of Disney kiddo TV and into the world of cinema film, so that was cool. On the other hand, one of the producers seems like a real dick. This movie could be really good, nobody knows for sure.
• Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children (2005) – Kids with diseases and giant swords that are guns and also hairdos.
• La Bamba (1987) Errant seamen find they need a little bit of grace in order to learn a special dance.

[Image via Tri-Star/Sony]

Morning After is a new home for television discussion online, brought to you by Gawker. Follow @GawkerMA and read more about it here.

Whisper CEO Michael Heyward has turned more forceful in dismissing allegations from The Guardian that his anonymous app was tracking users, including people who opted out of geolocation before sharing their secrets.

On stage WSJ Live last night, Heyward didn't deny that Whisper has an internal mapping tool, but he implied that the paper confused GPS and IP addresses. "Nobody can track GPS location but Apple or Android and you ask them for the permission," he said. "The entire internet collects IP addresses. That's like trying to make a phone call without a phone number." Whisper was actually more protective, he implied, because it deletes IP addresses after seven days.

The Guardian's claims came to light after talks about a potential editorial partnership, like the one Whisper had with Buzzfeed. Heyward tried to spin this to his advantage:

Heyward left it to users to judge whether the Guardian was right or wrong to have reported the story in the way it did. "The Guardian came into our offices under false pretenses," he said. "They made a lot of technical inferences from talking to non-technical people. They got the facts wrong."

On Friday, Heyward posted email records to support Whisper's claim that recent changes to its privacy policy were not a red flag. Rather, the changes had been in the works since August.

Heyward sounded much more tentative when the story first broke, saying that he welcomed debate with The Guardian. "We realize that we're not infallible," he proclaimed. After Senator Rockefeller requested a committee briefing on the issue, Heyward suspended both editor-in-chief Neetzan Zimmerman, a former Gawker employee who defended the company, and members of the editorial team who met with The Guardian.

On stage, the CEO tried to enforce the idea that any wrongdoing was not an institutional issue:

The most poignant moment in the interview concerned Heyward's management of the situation. According to the Guardian, a Whisper employee described a user who said he was a Washington D.C. lobbyist, bragging that the company would track him for the rest of his life without his knowledge.

"My stomach churned when I heard that," Heyward said. "That obviously does not reflect our values and what we stand for."

Heyward has already put on leave the employees who met with the Guardian, as well as editor-in-chief Neetzan Zimmerman. He said that while he didn't know whether his employee made the statement, he would fire the person if it were true.

Heyward must have gotten some professional coaching since his bungled appearance at TechCrunch Disrupt in May. Take this mix of high-brow and humble in response to a question from reporter Evelyn Rusli:

"So there's a Mark Twain quote that says, 'A lie can travel half way around the world while the truth is still at home putting his shoes on.' I feel like I've been putting my shoes on all week."

Fred Shapiro, co-author of The Yale Book of Quotations, says that quote has been misattributed to Twain. But no matter, Heyward got his point across. CEOs with $60 million in venture capital—they put their shoes on just like us!

To contact the author of this post, please email nitasha@gawker.com.

[Screenshot via WSJ video]

The owner of a 12-year-old pug named Chloe says she dropped her dog off at the vet Monday for a follow-up appointment about a scratched cornea. A few hours later, she got a call letting her know Chloe was recovering nicely from having her left eye removed.

Kimberly Hayden says the Banfield Pet Hospital in St. Petersburg, Fla., never got her consent to remove Chloe's eye, or even warned her they'd be performing surgery. According to some paperwork she showed the local Fox station, the vet was supposed to get permission for any procedure that would cost more than $5.

"She's stumbling. Bumping into things. It's just been very traumatic. It feels surreal," she told Fox 13 Tampa Bay.

Hayden is considering suing the pet hospital, she said on Facebook and on local talk radio.

Banfield Pet Hospital admitted in a statement that "we did fail to get surgical authorization from the client on the day of the procedure," but claimed doctors had previously discussed the surgery with Chloe's owner. The vet maintains removing the eye was the only viable way to relieve pain and prevent infection.

Hayden says she was given several options at Chloe's previous appointment, and surgery was just one of them. She opted to try medication—she said the vet prescribed 3 kinds of eye drops and 2 oral medications—and scheduled the follow-up appointment to check on the dog's progress.

[Photo: My Fox Chicago]

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Week's moving at quite a clip now, picking up speed. The end in sight. Hallowe'en spookily looming, and the long days after. Soon, on Sunday night, Daylight Savings will either begin or end depending on how that works. But for now, the days end darker and darker every time; they yearn for equinox. And what can we learn? That TV is always the same amount of brightness. Here is what you find on it.

At 7:30/6:30c. it's Game 7 of the World Series, which I believe refers to American Cricket.

AT 8/7c.

• While Arrow continues plumbing the depths of despair with a Felicity-centric episode I believe, Survivor is intent on making "Some Magic Happen," and NBC persists trying to make The Mysteries of Laura happen too.
• BBC America has a special on one of the greatest modern poets and certainly one of the most Welsh, Dylan Thomas, called A Poet in New York.
• While those irrepressible familes The Middles and The Goldbergs celebrate their hidebound Halloween fantasiae, El Rey has a two-hour premiere of its new series Lucha Underground, originally titled Lucha: Uprising until, I'm guessing, some suit somewhere had a heart attack.

AT 9/8c.

• The History Channel's hottest show about picking, American Pickers, celebrates its seventh season tonight, while Couples Therapy and Million Dollar Listing: LA also air.
• The CW returns to its all-new, even more amazing second season of The 100, which have we talked about how you should watch that? Because you should watch that.
• Meanwhile, the futuristic inclusivity of ABC's Modern Family and black-ish celebrate their various Halloweenery just like you and me.

AT 10/9c.

• Gator Boys on Animal Planet, I Killed My BFF ("More Than Friends") on LMN, an "Apology" on Oxygen's Preachers of LA, and Stalker is doubling down over on Fox with a Halloween-themed episode of its Halloween-themed self, called "The Haunting." Dollars to doughnuts this will end up somebody is being haunted by a stalker, just a guess.
• Nashville continues to be weirdly paced for a soap, PBS's great How We Got to Now considers modern light in light of light's history, Ali G's show finally ends its second season after a new The League on FXX, and before a new Key & Peele on Comedy Central there's a South Park called "The Magic Bush" that puts a spy drone in the hands of Butters.
• American Horror Story finishes up the annual Halloween story with the conclusion of Edward Mordrake's carnival haunting—how great was the music and sound design/editing last week, with all those strange whispers and Lange's vocal effects; how perfect and wonderful does Dandy Mott continue to be—and Top Chef keeps it cookin' on Bravo.

AT 11/10c.

• MTV's Girl Code checks in with an hour covering both "Humor" and "Vacation," as topics, while I Heart Nick Carter ends its first season on VH1 with an "I Do."
• Showtime's Web Therapy digs further and further into its own harried palms, defeating itself gloriously at every turn, but...
• Most importantly of all, there's a special Watch What Happens: Live tonight guest-starring the love story of the millennium, Tracy Pollan and Michael J. Fox.

Take it easy, never make it sleazy, and remember that holidays were invented by candy companies solely to keep you and your children and loved ones addicted to their poisons. Have a great night!

Morning After is a new home for television discussion online, brought to you by Gawker. What are you watching tonight? What are we missing out on? Recommendations and discussions down below.

For much of Ed Lee's first term as Mayor of San Francisco, he enjoyed both the popular support of the public and the financial backing of tech tycoons. Last March, a stunning 65 percent of local voters approved of Lee's handling of the job. Then the Google Bus protests happened, the cost of living kept rising, and evictions hit crisis levels. Within 13 months, Lee's approval rating sunk by 20 points.

The mayor still has a year before his reelection, but tensions only seem to be heightening and his challengers aren't wasting any time. Just today Mark Leno, a popular California state senator, said he is mulling a run against Lee.

Lee's standing around town, for example, took a hit after the city legalized Airbnb earlier this month. Senator Dianne Feinstein encouraged the mayor not to approve the bill, which let Airbnb off the hook for a retroactive tax bill. But Ron Conway and Reid Hoffman, who both invested in Airbnb and donated to Lee's campaign, backed the bill.

As SF Weekly's Joe Eskenazi reports, U.S. Senators rarely swoop in from Washington to chime in on local legislation. But Feinstein was so alarmed by what Airbnb was getting away with, she called the Mayor, "[attempting] to explain to him how this ordinance would eviscerate city zoning rules, deplete already-scarce housing stock, and enable a company that has made a point of not paying its taxes."

When that didn't work, the Senator wrote an op-ed for the Chronicle, warning the Mayor that "this bill will further increase already sky-high rental costs."

Mayor Lee signed the bill anyway.

He looked weak in the face of the prospering tech industry. Voters now know he can't coax $25 million in back hotel taxes, even from a company valued at more than $10 billion.

Even Rose Pak, the Chinatown powerbroker who helped elect Lee with her "Run Ed Run" campaign, is cooling her support of the Mayor. The Chronicle reports Pak and the Mayor "have been drifting apart for months" over Lee's relationship with Ron Conway.

It's no wonder Leno sees an opening. Earlier this week, the Chronicle quoted Leno paraphrasing Feinstein's complaints against Airbnb:

"In one stroke, we have rezoned the whole city," Leno said. "There is a compromise to be found, but this is not it — it's too broad."

Leno is hardly a quixotic challenger. While Lee handily won the mayor's race in 2011, beating a progressive city supervisor by over 19 points, Leno is an undeniably stronger challenger. San Francisco Magazine's Scott Lucas explained the appeal:

Leno could present a tough challenge to Lee. He has cred with both San Francisco's progressive and moderate wings, a strong record in Sacramento, and has already city-wide election several times.

A poll conducted this past April already shows Leno besting Lee by four points. And Senator Feinstein, who previously endorsed Ed Lee, has indicated she would join Leno in fighting to repeal the city's Airbnb law.

To contact the author of this post, please email kevin@valleywag.com.

Image: Anonymous, via VanishingSF

A woman who briefly dated Jian Ghomeshi—the former CBC host accused of beating several women—tells the Canadian radio station that he ended their last date by throwing her on the ground and punching her over and over until she started crying.

The woman spoke anonymously to the CBC Wednesday, saying she met the popular host about ten years ago at a Christmas media party. The two hit it off and Ghomeshi invited her to come see a taping of his show.

Afterwards, the woman said, they went to a pub where, she said, Ghomeshi came off as "charming."

Then after he drove me back to my car and we chatted in the car and he was getting flirty. So in the car he was looking like he wanted to do a little more, and then he asked me if I would undo my buttons. And I said no and he reached over and grabbed my hair very hard and pulled my head back. And it really took me off guard. I don't know precisely exactly what he was saying, but I am thinking it was something along the lines of, "Do you like this?" And I don't know what I said, but it was a weeknight and it was late and I had to go.

At first, the woman told the CBC, she felt shy—she hadn't dated in a while and blamed herself. So when he asked her to hang out again, she agreed. "I thought, maybe he's just a little too rough and I can sort it out."

Interviewer: What happened on the second date?

Woman: Well I went to another taping of the show but we didn't hang out after that. But then I went to another one and there was a big snowstorm, and a girlfriend of mine came. At the end of the night—we had taken the subway and didn't drive that night because it was too treacherous—he asked me to come out with him, and I said, "Well, I have my friend here," and he agreed to drop her at a subway and then we went on to his house.

And when we were at his house it was fine, he put music on and I was looking at his living room and he had some interesting things in there, and again, we were flirty. But in that flirting he grabbed my hair again but even harder, threw me in front of him on the ground, and started closed-fist pounding me in the head. Repeatedly. Until my ears were ringing. And I started to cry.

Interviewer: Did you struggle?

Woman: No I was in shock. When you get hit in the head, everything rings and it's hard to do anything but try to... there was no conversation about anything and he didn't ask me if I liked to be hit, he didn't ask me... I wasn't expecting it, and he hit me repeatedly.

Interviewer: On the head?

Woman: On the head, on one side of my head over and over. And I'm on the floor and I'm in tears and he said, "You need to go."

I didn't say much at all, I got in a cab and cried all the way to my friend's place. I didn't even go home, I was a mess. I went to my friend's place and stayed at her house and cried all night.

The interviewer notes that the friend—a nurse—corroborated the woman's story.

The woman never pressed charges and said that for years after the alleged attack she'd have to change the channel when CBC commercials came on. When asked why she came forward now, ten years later, she said it was because she didn't think anyone would believe her when it happened.

"It's too difficult to prove. It's embarassing, in the moment I was so distraught all I wanted to do was curl up in a corner. I wasn;t expecting to go out with this man who seemingly charming and nice, I come from an educated family and I thought, 'Wow my dad would really like you,' and then to get physically abused like that, it was shocking," she told the radio station.

"I can't understand why this man—who, he's such a great tv personality and radio personality—has this dark, dark side to him. And it's been hard because I've had to just surpress it and just put it down to some bad experience," she said. "But when this came to light a few days ago, it gave me permission to speak and I thought, 'Maybe someone will listen to me now.' Because I don't think if I had said anything back then that anyone would care."

The CBC says a second woman is scheduled to appear on the station tomorrow to describe a similar "act of aggression" by Ghomeshi.

[image via AP]

Michael Jordan, G.O.A.T., briefly considered President Barack Obama for his dream golf foursome, but immediately changed his mind because Obama is "a shitty golfer."

"He's a hack, man, I'd be all day playing with him," Jordan told Ahmad Rashad.

Jordan famously lost more than a million dollars wagering on golf in the early '90s, but has since established himself as one of the best celebrity golfers in the game, with a handicap of 3.

That's more than good enough to trash-talk Obama, whose 17 handicap doesn't even land him among the top 100 golfers in Washington. On the other hand, Obama isn't a retired professional athlete, and the 200-ish rounds of golf he's played since taking office aren't that many for a U.S. president.

Who's a better golfer is kind of a moot point, though. Either one of them would get destroyed by Kenny G.

[h/t NY Post]

Multiple traffic lights were molested last night as crowds of fans flocked to San Francisco's Mission District following the Giants' World Series victory. As the riot grew in size and SFPD officers began losing control of the situation, dozens of fires were ignited as helicopters beaming spotlights swarmed overhead.

The crowds were notably smaller than past World Series victory riots in the Mission. And the destruction appears to be far less severe. Nevertheless, rioters still managed to turn the victory into a spectacle.

Despite the allure of fires and celebratory drum circles, local men adamantly climbed, humped, and destroyed local traffic signage.

SFPD visibly tried to manage the mob, putting out fires and keeping people off Mission Street.

Residents initially focused on celebrating, with dance parties and parades breaking out along 24th Street. But the crowds eventually took Mission Street, and bros began posing on top of fires of photos.

Naturally, at least one drone flew overhead filming the fires:

The sense of jubilation turned violent. The crowds attacked Vida—a luxury condo development that's marketed like a theme park—throwing rocks and concrete at the building's windows. Vida's construction was largely welcomed by local progressive activists, but its garish zigzagging facade sticks out on an unevenly gentrified street.

Later in the night, someone lit the construction site shared by Vida and the neighboring Alamo Drafthouse on fire.

And the mob voiced their resentment of the police and public busing out on walls:

In the center of the rapidly changing Mission, rioters also tagged their frustration with the influx of Silicon Valley wealth.

And one Google bus was reportedly attacked:

Watched a mob of people converge on this tech bus, throw glass bottles at it, and tag it, yelling "fuck Google." pic.twitter.com/gmIZ6wHygi

— Joe Veix (@joeveix) October 30, 2014

As the night wore on and the crowds began thinning, a sizable group of rioters began chanting "TECHIES" while hurling bottles and other debris at 20 Mission, a startup hostel and co-working space on Mission Street. At least one resident's window was shattered.

Similarly, Lyft's iconic pink mustaches were turned into kindling on Valencia Street.

This encapsulated a lot of what happened last night. Hooligan steals @lyft drivers mustache, burns it in bonfire. pic.twitter.com/k24TvaYk3L

— Kyle Kelly-Yahner (@KyleKellyYahner) October 30, 2014

Violence largely dominated a night that should have been a celebration for the city. TV host Veronica Belmont found herself locked inside a Mission Street bar because of the chaos outside, and summed up the situation on Instagram perfectly:

Well, as usual things got a little out of control after the #WorldSeries win. We went for a drink in the Mission and ended up being locked inside the bar for our safety (no one in or out). Hard to see here but there's a line of full riot cop police outside. People were burning shit in the street and throwing rocks at new construction. Maybe some of it was bridge and tunnel hooligans, but I don't think all of it was. Why do this to your own neighborhood?

To contact the author of this post, please email kevin@valleywag.com.

Daylight Saving Time ends at 2 AM this Sunday, at which point most of the country will set their clocks back one hour for no real reason other than that our parents did it. We love us some ridiculous traditions.http://thevane.gawker.com/spring-forward...

It's worth noting ahead of time—since some people genuinely do not know this, but we're not judging—that the sun isn't actually setting any earlier. There is no planetary shift occurring this Sunday. The earlier sunset is in relation to our own 24-hour cycle; most of us haven't mastered warping space-time, yet.

Daylight Saving Time (note the lack of a second "s" in "saving") is a wonderfully ridiculous practice in much of Western civilization in which we set our clocks forward one hour during the warmer months and set them back one hour during the winter. Depending on which version of the story you've read from someone who read it on Wikipedia, there are two reasons behind this twice-yearly shift.

The first is that bumping the clocks forward an hour during the spring and summer months allows farmers to work on their farms later during the growing and harvest seasons. The second version of the story, adjusted for the Modern Working Guy, says that the extra hour of daylight during the spring and summer allows people on an eight-hour office schedule to spend an extra hour outdoors when they get home.

That's mostly true! Assuming that "outdoors" is extended to mean "playing a computer game that takes place outdoors." Let me tell you, that extra hour of sun glare on my monitor really harshes my Flight Simulator mojo. But anyway...

Aside from the havoc it wreaks on us forgetful folk ("oh, there I go writing 'EDT' on my checks again"), the most noticeable effect of setting the clocks back an hour is how early the sun will set. In Greensboro, North Carolina, for instance, the sun rises at 7:42 AM and sets at 6:23 PM on Saturday. On Sunday, the sunrise shifts to 6:43 AM* and the sunset arrives at 5:22 PM. The sunset just gets earlier the farther north you go. New York City's sunset is at 4:51 PM on Sunday, and it'll keep getting earlier until it reaches its earliest setting time of 4:28 PM from December 7 through December 9.

True early-aughts kids will remember that we used to play this ridiculous game a few weeks later and earlier in the year, respectively, but the Energy Policy Act of 2005 extended the period during which we experience a later sunset in order to save energy. It didn't save energy.

Falling back does have one benefit: the weather models come out an hour earlier as they run on UTC instead of mere mortal time. Beginning on Sunday, the GFS starts to drop at 10:22 and 4:22 AM/PM, the first NAM runs pump out at 9:00 and 3:00 AM/PM, and the first graphics from the ECMWF should start to appear around 12:45 AM/PM. Excellent.

[Image: AP | *edited]

You can follow the author on Twitter or send him an email.

"You're gonna have a great time in Salem," the Boston rental car employee says as she hands me the keys to a weak-engined Chevy. "It's fun around Halloween, but do me a favor."

She drops her voice to a whisper.

"Don't go alone anywhere with someone you don't know."

When I ask her why, she blushes and responds sheepishly. "You know... witches. And the occult."

The rental car employee's fear has its root in the year 1692, when four young girls from Salem Village, Massachusetts, began throwing violent, inexplicable fits. They claimed that they were being tortured—stabbed with pins and painfully gripped—by local men and women who had secretly made pacts with the devil and become witches.

To this day, the true cause behind the girls' behavior remains a mystery. More certain, however, is the destruction that came in their wake. Between February 1692 and May 1693, the Salem Witch Trials claimed the lives of 24 innocent people. Nineteen were hanged, one was pressed to death by stones, and at least four more died in prison while awaiting trial.

Three hundred and twenty one years later, the area once known as Salem has been divided into several smaller towns. Once a sprawling community, the city of Salem is now condensed into an area of 18.1 square miles, and Salem Village is now known as Danvers. Less than 40 minutes away from Boston, it's in some ways a quintessential New England destination: in the fall, there's beautiful foliage anywhere you look, and local restaurants offer steaming bowls of clam chowder and enough maritime history that, by taking in it all, you might be able to legitimately call yourself Master and Commander.

The idyllic Salem of today couldn't be more at odds with the panic-stricken, puritanical and bloody image the town holds in history. And yet, despite all that progress and modernity, the area remains intrinsically (and sometimes clownishly) linked to the witch trials of 1692. Salem police cars are decorated with motifs of witches on broomsticks; the Salem High School sports teams are called The Witches. Essex Street, the busiest in town, overflows with shops that offer potions, candles, and fortune-telling services.

According to the Official Salem guide, the city gets 30 percent of its annual tourism during the month of October. While the town's rather serious Peabody Essex Museum will try to tell you that many visitors have come to see the hometown of author Nathaniel Hawthorne or what was once America's largest sea port, the truth is that most people are there to look at witch kitsch and to visit the site of the most frightening and mythologized mass murders in American history.

The latter was, at least, my reason for visiting.

Traveling to Salem fulfills a decades-long, rather bleak dream of mine. As a child, I read endless books about the Salem Witch Trials, chose it as the subject for various school reports, and convinced my mom to let me watch Arthur Miller's The Crucible long before I knew what an allegory was. The macabre curiosity has lingered into my adult life, even as its entertainment value has slightly diminished. Going to Salem to immerse myself in all things witch-y makes me a bit of tragedy tourist, much like the people who stay at the Lizzie Borden B&B or visit the home of Madame LaLaurie. I remind myself that it's important that one of the only upsides of tragedy tourism is its illumination of the historical context that brought you there.

It's important in theory, anyway. Immediately upon entering Salem, the historical weight of the witch trials is somehow simultaneously lifted from my consciousness and shoved in my face. A statue of Samantha from Bewitched has a prominent place in the center of town; gift stores boast names like "Hex" and "Omen"; banners advertise Salem's scariest haunted house (which is located in a strip mall); reenactors walk the streets, occasionally staging arrests. This city is 1692: The Theme Park.

The air of nonchalant inauthenticity is inescapable. When I check into the hotel, I overhear the receptionist tell a caller, "We leave it up to our guests to decide whether or not the rooms are haunted. We have had ghost-hunters come and they didn't find anything." The disappointed person on the other end of the line doesn't follow through with booking a room, which is probably for the best, as the hotel was only built in 1925—and if there is a ghost in residence, Giles Corey he most certainly is not.

After ditching my suitcase in my (possibly haunted) room, I head to Salem's Old Town Hall to watch Cry Innocent: The People Vs. Bridget Bishop, an interactive staged trial that asks its audience to pretend like it's 1692 and act as the jury presiding over the preliminary hearing of Bridget Bishop (a real victim of the Salem Witch Trials) who is being charged with witchcraft. A small troupe of actors presents testimony. The audience is allowed to cross-examine witnesses, and then we vote Goodwife Bishop guilty or innocent.

"Try to hear this evidence as though you are a person from the 17th century," the actor playing the prosecutor reminds us time and time again. I think about something Ask a Mortician's Caitlin Doughty wrote in her book, Smoke Gets In Your Eyes:

It is easy for someone in the twenty-first century to be dismissive and declare, "Dang, those medieval folk are so crazy with their flying demonic minions and sex pacts." Yet witchcraft was as real to medieval men or women as the Earth being round or smoking causing cancer is real to us. It didn't matter whether they lived in a city or a small village, whether they were a lowly peasant farmer or the pope himself. They knew that there were witches and the witches were killing babies and crops and having lewd sex with the devil.

The same can be said for the Americans and, really, we don't have to go that far back to find people who believed whole-heartedly in the harm caused by witchcraft. In fact, we don't have to go back at all: Just look at the Hertz employee who rented me my car.

Since I go to see Cry Innocent on a Tuesday afternoon, the majority of my fellow audience members happen to be high school students. And since they're high school students, they decide, en masse, to vote Bridget Bishop guilty as a joke. (I vote her innocent because of FEMINISM, but my act of sisterhood is entirely in vain.)

"By voting Bridget Bishop guilty, you have upheld the ruling that was made over 300 years ago," the actress playing Bridget Bishop, having dropped character, informs us. "Twenty innocent people were executed between 1692 and 1693 because of verdicts like this one."

Behind me, a middle-aged woman dressed in an "If the broom fits, ride it" t-shirt gasps and turns to her friends in surprise."Wait," she says without a trace of sarcasm. "You mean she was innocent the whole time?"

While I promised the car rental employee that I would be wary of the occult, the truth is that I'll spend a large portion of my time in Salem with the members of a modern-day coven who've come to town because of its "spiritual pull" and—more importantly—the large number of tourists who are willing to pay boatloads of money to have their cards and palms read by that coven.

I arrive at Hex to meet Leanne Marrama: a medium, psychic, self-identified witch and former What Not to Wear participant who has agreed to give me a reading. I'm skeptical, but pleasantly surprised when I meet her. She's intense in a way that implies passion and conviction over craziness and, even with her long black hair and ankle-length black skirt, she looks more like a woman you'd encounter as she drops her kids off at school than at a midnight spell circle in a cemetery.

"You have crazy animal spirit energy around you," she tells me as she gives me a tour of the shop. "Dogs, cats, horses, everything." She then leads me and my spiritual menagerie to an altar where people have left tokens and notes for their dead loved ones.

"This is my favorite part of the store," she says, going onto explain how important it is that people are willing to trust her and her fellow witches with relaying messages to their beloved departed. On the altar are photos of relatives, friends, pets, victims of the Boston marathon bombing and—a more recent addition—Robin Williams. Cigarettes, chocolate and coins have been left as a tribute. The altar is both a sad and heartwarming sight.

She gives me a minute to study the altar, then leads me to a private, curtained-off area for a psychic reading. Truthfully, I find visiting psychics a mildly nerve-wracking experience—not because I'm worried about the ceremonial sacrifice that the rental car lady warned me about, but because I have, on no less than three occasions, been told by psychics that my heart is too cold to know love and — whether you put stock in tarot cards or not — that's never a fun thing to hear.

Leanne doesn't tell me that my heart is hard or freezing, but she does offer some fairly amazing (and specific) insights into my family, love life, and longterm career goals—most of which she could not have had prior knowledge to. She even manages to guess the astrological sign of both me and my mother, which, sure, doesn't have much bearing on our futures, but it's a hell of a party trick all the same.

"You should go to the Crow Haven Corner to see Lorelei," Leanne tells me as she wraps up my reading. "She's Salem's famous love clairvoyant. Say that I sent you."

Lorelei and Leanne have been friends and fellow witches for years, having bonded over their love of animals (together, they run a non-profit that's dedicated to preventing animal abuse) and through their business partner, warlock and accidental crushed velvet top hat model Christian Day. (Christian will be mentioned several times throughout the day that I spend with the coven, but I will never get to meet him.)

I arrive at Crow Haven Corner and speak to the shopkeeper, who invites me back to Lorelei's sitting room, which is heavy with the scent of incense. A large altar occupies most of its space: all the leftover room is taken up by the small-boned Lorelei and her many pet dogs.

"If someone doesn't like dogs, I won't read 'em," she says in what might be the thickest Boston accent I've ever heard. One of the dogs growls at me aggressively, but I assure her that I like dogs fine and begin to tell her why I'm here.

"I work for a website called Jezebel," I explain. "And I'm writing a story that's partially focused on the modern witches of Salem."

"Oh, yeah," Lorelei responds. "You guys wrote about it when Katy Perry came in for a love spell."

I have no memory of us writing about Katy Perry visiting the Crow Haven Corner. Feeling flustered, I nod my head.

"You have to let me do a love ritual on you," she continues. "You know, like the one that Katy got."

What's good enough for Katy is certainly good enough for me.

A couple hours later, we reunite at Crows Haven Corner and, once again, I am brought back into the sitting room. She begins by reading my palm (apparently, my hands say both that I like being in control and that I don't fuck regularly enough, so there's that) and then my cards.

Her reading doesn't feel as accurate or specific as the one I received from Leanne earlier that day; plenty of her insights feel like easy guesses. But, as promised, Lorelei excels in psychic matters of the heart. She somehow manages to pinpoint each romantic disaster and humiliation I've experienced in the past few years (it's rough out there when you allegedly have a heart of ice) and says, "I'm going to help you with all of this. Just like I'm helping Katy Perry."

With that, the love ritual begins. We stand at opposite ends of the altar as Lorelei waves around a small, decorated dagger and calls upon the elements. In a small bowl, she mixes herbs and dried flowers. "For passion," she says, mixing in petals. "For serenity"—she tosses in lavender—"for romance"—and so on.

"Hold out your left hand," she orders, reaching towards me with the dagger. I put aside any reservations that she's about to stab me and do as I'm told. Lorelei then takes her knife and runs the flat edge of the blade along my palm. Handing me a lovely-smelling sachet, she instructs me to carry it on my left side. With her assistance, she says, I should meet a "soulmate" in 8 to 10 months.

"Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again," she says, grinning and gripping my hands.

I move to go, but Lorelei stops me. She has a few more Katy Perry thoughts to share.

"I wanted to do a travel protection spell for her on Halloween because I know she's tryna go to Egypt, but my business partner Christian, he says, 'No, Lorelei. Halloween is for the dead.'" She pauses to stroke the ear of one of her sleeping dogs. "So I've decided to do Joan Rivers instead."

While a lot of what I do with the modern day witches of Salem feels mildly-to-extremely ridiculous, I'm still having an enormous amount of fun. Even as I watch a 27-year-old witch dump half of her Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee over a 17th century grave in the town's historic cemetery as means of tribute, I'm still having fun. By the time I meet Leanne and her friend Tim (a fellow witch) for dinner in a mall food court, I'm practically bouncing from the day and they're nice enough to let me bother them with questions about their faith and practice as they eat their mozzarella sticks.

I ask if they consider themselves Wiccans and they both say no. They tell me that you can be any religion and still identify as a witch. When I inquire after when they both decided to identify as witches, they have very different answers. Tim says that he's known since he was a boy and was drawn to spells and nature. "I ruined my mother's dining room table by painting witch symbols on it with nail polish." He also talks about the time when he was 12 and his neighbors caught him dancing naked in the woods. His parents were mortified.

Leanne's story starts a little later in life. Her mother worked in finance, but would read cards for friends as a hobby. Leanne realized that she, too, had some psychic ability when she was a teenager, but suppressed it. At a young age, she married an unsupportive and unkind husband. It was only after she divorced him that she could start openly identifying as a witch.

"That must have been freeing," I say.

"It was, it was," she responds. "It was like coming out of the closet."

I ask what brought them to Salem. "It seems a little weird, you know," I say. "Since this is a town that's famous for prosecuting people on the mere suspicion of witchcraft."

Leanne and Tim explain that coming here is both healing to the area's energy and a form of reclamation—almost in a "You thought they were witches? We'll show you witches" kind of way.

"OK," I say. "Now what about the clothes. Do you have to wear the clothes of a goth teen or is that a choice?"

They both laugh. "That's a very What Not to Wear question," Leanne tells me.

Once Tim and Leanne have finished eating, I follow them to Omen, where Leanne is hosting a séance for tourists. I, along with 20 others, sit in a row of chairs and watch as she explains how to contact the dead through table tipping and staring at a mirror in the dark.

Then she has us try it for ourselves. Table tipping is basically the ghost-obsessed equivalent of Light as a Feather/Stiff as a Board, but it's still spooky. (That could just be because Omen shares a wall with a haunted house, and the entire séance is soundtracked with recorded screams of someone getting murdered.)

For the second half of the séance, Leanne attempts to communicate with the dead loved ones of the room's living occupants, and I am slightly overcome: watching my fellow attendees try to make contact with the people (and, in some cases, animals) that they've lost is a devastating experience. Whether it's real or not doesn't really matter: I watch a woman panic because she left her husband's old reading glasses at home and doesn't think that Leanne will be able to reach him without them.

"It's OK," Leanne says, comfortingly. "He hated wearing glasses, anyway."

People openly weep as they receive what they believe to be messages from spouses, grandparents and friends. I cry, too. Not because my dead show up to say anything, but because it's overwhelming to witness the sorrow and loneliness that's left behind when a person dies. The room's energy is raw and fragile, something that Leanne, to her credit, handles with sensitivity and care.

"Séances are my least favorite part of the job," she tells me privately. "There's so much responsibility."

The evening ends and the other participants all seem satisfied with the spirit contact made. Feeling unsettled after sharing such an emotionally intimate moment with a group of strangers, I hug Leanne goodbye, and go off to find something to eat. Unfortunately, because it's 9 pm and Salem is tiny, every restaurant is closed.

For a town so hopping with spirits, Salem sure is dead at night.

I leave Salem feeling about as confused as I was when I got there. My initial judgment, though, is intact: excepting a few monuments, the city feels more like a recreational boardwalk than the landmark of an atrocity. Even the town's more historic offerings manage to paint over facts in order to be more palatable or entertaining. ("Did you know that my employers do not allow me to refer to Tituba as a slave? I have to call her a servant and it's bullshit," one young tour guide tells me after learning that I write for Jezebel.)

Speaking with Kristina Wacome Stevick, the artistic director of History Alive! (the production company behind Cry Innocent), helps settle my mind.

"It is ironic that out of one side of our mouths we can say that [the 24 people who died during the Salem Witch Trials] were innocent victims and at the same time say that they're the spiritual ancestors to [these modern day witches]," she tells me. "I think the 17th century accused witch would be like, 'Who are you and why are you claiming this affinity?'"

"At the same time," she continues, "I've made peace with it, I guess. I don't know that people would be coming to Salem as much as they do if it weren't for that mercenary side of things. When they're here, hopefully they can learn some history."

Besides, she adds, no tourist location in Salem (apart from Peabody Essex, maybe) is guiltless when it comes to prioritizing entertainment over history. That's how these businesses stay alive, it's how the town makes money.

Even if the town could forgo the tourist income, it's questionable whether or not we could ever truly remember Salem with the reverence that some think it deserves. In America, we're good at showing sorrow and solemnity when it's white men that have died (Gettysburg, the Alamo, etc.). But when the dead are women, or people of color, the ground seems to become fair game for anything: weddings at plantations, palm readers and "If the broom fits, ride it" T-shirts here.

But witches like Leanne and Lorelei aren't bringing any harm or bad intentions to the area, and some might even argue that they—witches, occult, and all—are bringing in good will. As I drive the rental car back to Boston, I think of the herb sachet from Lorelei that now sits in my bag, firmly pressed to my left hip. Best case scenario, her spell worked and I meet the love of my life in 8-10 months. Worst case scenario, my purse smells fantastic.

Photos by Madeleine Davies, type by Jim Cooke.

You might think that right now, Bill Cosby would be an ideal interview subject. With a renewed interest in rape and harassment allegations, thanks in no small part to Hannibal Buress, on top of the fact that the 77-year-old is a complete and utter spectacle, he would be an ideal get for any interviewer worth her salt. To have him already booked on your show in light of these recent developments? Why that would be a dream come true!

Queen Latifah does not want to interview Bill Cosby. (Sony Pictures Television denies this claim—see update below.)

She has, in fact, canceled his appearance on her daytime talk show because of the renewed chatter about his alleged rapes, reports TMZ. Says the site:

Bill Cosby won't be promoting his new comedy tour on Queen Latifah's talk show...because the Queen and her crew got cold feet after rape allegations resurfaced... Production sources tell us Latifah honchos didn't want the association so the 86'd Cosby. They're particularly sensitive because a video from Latifah's show just went viral, showing a 13-year-old gay kid going crazy on the show after winning VIP RuPaul tickets.

The woman whose biggest solo rap hit, " U.N.I.T.Y." furiously addressed the topic of sexual harassment and catcalling, is afraid to talk to an accused rapist? She's become so softball that it's now her ethos, and not to be disturbed? She's happy to have a seven-minute conversation with Diva Kid, a teen with a lot of pride and absolutely nothing to say, as part of her legacy, and not a career-redefining, discourse-enriching frank talk with Cosby? That's shameful.

It's shameful even in the situation where she's given the benefit of the doubt—that it's the producers and not her calling the shots, that she wouldn't be able to extract anything from Cosby so why even try? Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. Don't let those producers define the show that has your name on it. Always fucking try, even if you have to lie to that asshole to get him in the chair. Do it and then film him walking out on the interview. Viral gold.

This timid, vapid Queen Latifah is not the woman that I grew up idolizing. I think that the person who wrote and performed All Hail the Queen as a teenager would have no time for The Queen Latifah Show. People evolve, sure, and Ice Cube plays with Elmo, so that's a legacy-shattering mindfuck, but goddamn it, it is depressing just how much Latifah thinks she must diminish herself to be fit for mass acceptance. (See also: her whole gay thing.) You're a Queen; act like it.

Update: According to an email from Sony Pictures Television, which produces The Queen Latifah Show, Bill Cosby's appearance on the show was postponed at his request:

Mr. Cosby's scheduled appearance on The Queen Latifah Show was postponed at his request and was in no way related to any of our recent or upcoming scheduled guests.

We've reached out to Cosby's people to confirm. We'll update when they do.

[ Image via Getty]

A man dressed as Laa-Laa, the yellow Teletubby, is facing charges after reportedly breaking into a home in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania early Sunday morning. He stole Chinese food.

Easton, Pennsylvania's Express-Times reports the Teletubby, 20-year-old Terez S. Owens Jr., broke into a friend's house around 2 a.m. Sunday morning, damaging the friend's door. According to police, Owens then went to the fridge and dumped leftover Chinese food—perhaps intentionally outside of the standard Teletubby diet (tubby custard ["tubby tustard"] and tubby toast) to throw cops off the scent—into a "man purse" before leaving.

Police caught up with him soon after and identified him as the suspect.

Though the victims first declined to press charges, Bethlehem police Chief Mark DiLuzio told the Express-Times that they changed their minds after their landlord got involved. From the Express-Times:

The residents met Wednesday with a detective, and police filed charges of criminal mischief and disorderly conduct with District Judge Nancy Matos-Gonzalez's office, DiLuzio said. They will be sent to Owens via summons.

"Not that many Teletubbies get arrested," Chief DiLuzio said, of the arrest.

Well, yeah.

Not that many Teletubbies get caught.

[image via AP]

Trolls are shitting all over our internet. You can hardly search for something as innocuous as "dog" on Google without coming across inflammatory attacks on every possible dog-related opinion under the sun. All horrible things have to crawl before they can walk/crush spirits, though. Even trolls.

And while the term "troll" has become wildly muddied, it did have to come from somewhere. We decided to try and find out just where that dark, acerbic origin story began.

In the Beginning

There were bulletin board systems. And Usenet. And newsgroups. And people just starting to realize the massive potential trembling beneath their fingertips. Anything was possible! Which, as it turns out, is not always a good thing.

Flame Wars

In the early 90s, trolls had yet to really come into public consciousness, according to the 1993 Big Dummy's Guide to the Internet. But flame wars were already an online staple.

Whether or not you're familiar with the term, you do know what flaming is. You've seen it under horrible political opinions on Facebook. In you Twitter stream. And in every other comment in the vast expanse that is YouTube. Put simply, a flame is vicious, personal attack on you might make on someone simply because you disagree.

Because as soon as you stuck someone behind a computer, that dangerously insular shield of anonymity comes down and, for those inclined, takes over. In discussing the sort of negotiation tactics that precede a flame war, Norman Johnson, an Associate Professor at Bauer College at the University of Houston explains:

The literature suggests that, compared to face-to-face, the increased incidence of flaming when using computer-mediated communication is due to reductions in the transfer of social cues, which decrease individuals' concern for social evaluation and fear of social sanctions or reprisals. When social identity and ingroup status are salient, computer mediation can decrease flaming because individuals focus their attention on the social context (and associated norms) rather than themselves.

The introduction of anonymity not only made users feel free from the repercussions that might otherwise give them pause, but it also dehumanized potential targets. In other words, the internet gave all our worst impulses just what they needed to thrive.

Because if someone disagreed with you in the real, live social realm, you might feel frustrated, sure, but you'll also see that person's as another human with human emotions—not just a jumble of inflammatory words for you to destroy. You'll take time to reflect, because you'll realize there are consequences to your actions. Whereas on the internet, a clean slate is a mere username change away.

Some of the earliest flame wars went down on Usenet, which unbeknownst to these earlier warriors, was building a model for all the trolls to eventually come in its wake. According to Gaffin:

Periodically, an exchange of flames erupts into a flame war that begin to take up all the space in a given newsgroup (and sometimes several; flamers like cross-posting to let the world know how they feel). These can go on for weeks (sometimes they go on for years, in which case they become "holy wars,'' usually on such topics as the relative merits of Macintoshes and IBMs). Often, just when they're dying down, somebody new to the flame war reads all the messages, gets upset and issues an urgent plea that the flame war be taken to e-mail so everybody else can get back to whatever the newsgroup's business is.

So presumably, these troll/flame wars all started earnestly. But watching two groups of people attempt to lambast each other in increasingly epic proportions is—as we all know and hate to admit—wildly entertaining. And once the war of words would simmer down, it's not at all surprising that someone might start (forcefully, sensationalistically) poking and prodding the more tender of egos. All in hopes of revisiting that awful sort of thrill that comes in watching another human push the very boundaries of sanity, by freaking the fuck out.

Net.Weenies

The earliest documented form of internet troll was something called a net.weenie, who did what s/he does " just for the hell of it." In early internet usenet forums, they were the people being assholes simply for the sheer joy of being an asshole. According to the Guide:

These are the kind of people who enjoy Insulting others, the kind of people who post nasty messages in a sewing newsgroup.

Even the Electronic Frontier Foundation—formed in 1990—was aware of (and acknowledged) net.weenies prevalence among the more public internet groups. In the group's early internet guide to mailing lists, one of the main benefits of such a system was that "a mailing list can offer a degree of freedom to speak one's mind (or not worry about net.weenies) that is not necessarily possible on Usenet." This was, of course, before the sorts of emails in which an undead child's wrath and/or Nigerian prince's livelihood rested on the click of our mouse.

And net.weenies sound obnoxious, sure, but the term still didn't carry the sort of malevolence we now associate with modern trolling. In fact, quite the contrary—some of their games were absolutely incredible.

Warlording

Warlording was a very specific, beautiful type of early trolling performed by these net.weenies, particularly in the alt.fan.warlord newsgroup in Usenet (a sort of subreddit of early internet days). Considering the limitations of early 90s bandwidth and forums' general readability issues, Usenet etiquette—netiquette, if you will—asked users to keep their signatures under four lines. This was dubbed the McQuary limit and was not a hard and fast rule. At least in the way that there weren't actually any real character limits.

This rule was partially necessary due to new users' predilections for employing was was called BUAGs (Big Ugly ASCII Graphics) and BUAFs (Big Ugly ASCII Fonts). So to both mock this habit and be the biggest assholes they could be (always reach for the stars, kids), net.weenies tore this rule apart in a game called warlording.

The term came from the user Death Star, War Lord of the West, "who featured in his sig[nature] a particularly large and obnoxious ASCII graphic resembling the sword of Conan the Barbarian in the 1981 John Milius movie." Which, presumably, looked something like this:

The newgroup alt.fan.warlord was created as a sort of sarcastic tribute to the offending sigs, and the jokes spiraled from there. One particularly notable case of warlording was that of James Parry's signature (better know by the username Kibo) below. Bear in mind, this is all one, single sig.

Although every part of this signature is brilliant and deserving of our appreciation and awe, I do have a few favorite sections. Namely, this absurd and not at all remotely helpful Twin Peaks chart:

And then this.

Because if anything has ever been worthy of being called art, it is the beautiful, intricate, wholly insincere mess.

The Birth of the Troll

In the late 80s and early 90s there certainly did exist this notion of an internet user who merely enjoyed stirring up trouble—but then that person has for as long as humans themselves have existed. As Whitney Phillips, a media studies scholar and communication lecturer at Humboldt State University (who has a book on trolls forthcoming with MIT press) explained to us over email:

[Organized, willful trolling did exist before 4chan and Anonymous came around], though at the time it wouldn't (necessarily) have been called that. This was a point of fascination to many of the trolls I interviewed; while they engaged in similar behaviors in the pre-4chan years, they didn't refer to their behaviors as trolling and in fact couldn't remember what they called it, if they called it anything. They've since some to use the term retroactively, but at the time the subcultural definition of the term hadn't yet taken hold, and so they didn't think of themselves as trolls.

Purportedly, the actual use of the term "troll" dates back to the 80s, but according to the Oxford English Dictionary, the first instance of the term "troll" being used in an online capacity happened on December 14th, 1992 in the usenet group alt.folklore.urban, when someone wrote "Maybe after I post it, we could go trolling some more and see what happens."

Usenet Royalty

Interestingly enough, it's around the time that the actual term "trolling" started gaining steam in the mid 90s that the act itself began to evolve from causing annoyance as a result of your beliefs to simply believing in causing annoyance. And, of course, that's just a single flavor of trolling—almost as soon as the term came into use, it started morphing into a blanket term of unwieldy proportions.

For instance, at least in retrospect, Brice Wellington was one of the more notorious troll incarnations. He spent much of his time "in alt.atheism, talk.origins, alt.christnet, and other newsgroups that he [would] troll and spam on a daily basis." Now, whether his brand of trolling was sincere or satiric becomes a little more difficult to suss out. Usenet users at the time seemed certain that Brice was the "real deal," so to speak, but in looking at some of his more insane rantings, it's hard to see him as seeking anything more than what would soon be termed "the lulz."

Here we have Brice on the French:

Brice on racial nuance:

And Brice on slippery slopes:

While Brice may have started blurring the line between being infuriating by nature and being infuriating by sheer force of well, alt.tasteless stepped firmly into the latter territory.

In a 1994 article with Wired, Usenet user Trashcan Man gave one of the first real insights into the prototypical troll mindset by describing alt.tasteless' flamewar with the unsuspecting rec.pets.cats, a sort of haven for cat fanciers. In other words, prime bait.

Because for all intents and purposes, alt.tasteless was simply an early version of 4chan's now-notorious /b/. As Wired explains:

Alt.tasteless was created in the autumn of 1990 "as a place to keep the sick people away from rec.humor and other forums," according to Steven Snedker, a Danish journalist for Denmark's largest computer magazine. "Alt.tastelessers see this as an important turn in Usenet history, on a par with the creation of alt.sex. Both alt.tasteless and alt.sex are fine forums that serve their purpose to keep the other parts of Usenet clean, and to dig further into the stuff discussed."

Which is all good and great, but being positively revolting certainly loses some of its appeal when you take away any potential foil. Which is why when someone suggested that alt.tasteless descend upon another Usenet group to incite chaos, the alt.tasteless users were delighted and ultimately decided on the cat newsgroup as a prime target. And alt.tasteless' opening line was a doozy:

... I'm not what you would call a real studly type guy (although I have a lot of women friends), so when I date it's really important to me. Anyway, [my cat] Sooti goes into heat something fierce (sometimes it seems like it's two weeks on, two weeks off). I had a date a while back, when she was really bad. Yowling and presenting all the time - not the most auspicious setting for a date. While dinner was cooking, I tried to stimulate her vagina with a Q-tip because I had heard that one can induce ovulation that way. My date came into the bathroom while I was doing this, and needless to say I don't think she bought my explanation. The date was a very icy experience after that.

What should I do. I love my cats, so I don't want to get rid of them, but I can't go on like this any more. It's my love life, or them. Please help!!!

The earnest advice from rec.pets.cats was intermixed with decidedly more tasteless (naturally) advice from alt.tasteless including, but not limited to, providing "articles about topics such as vivisecting the cat and having sex with its innards."

Which, of course, brings us to 4chan.

Here Comes 4chan

For better or worse, in 2003, 4chan entered the public consciousness and with it brought what Phillips refers to as "a very specific understanding of the term 'troll,'" explaining in a Daily Dot article that "trolling was something that one actively chose to do. More importantly, a troll was something one chose to be."

4chan's /b/ board in particular, being the spiritual successor to alt.tasteless, fostered this toxic mentality that if you don't actually believe in the horrible things you're saying that it magically becomes justified. As Phillips explained over email:

Granted, the trolls might not really mean what they say. But who cares, they are not, and should not be regarded, as the ultimate arbiters of meaning. In other words, what these "trolls" think about what they do is irrelevant; even if they say they're "just trolling," their actions can have serious real-world consequences for the people they target.

So, say, when 4chan users found an 11-year-old girl's address and phone number in 2010 and proceeded to call her home making death threats, it didn't matter that they were "just doing it for the lulz." Both that classic, deflective refrain and the term troll itself have succeeded in creating a potentially dangerous emotional distance from the actual consequences words can have—whether it's trolls self-identifying as such or a media-assigned label. According to Phillips:

I don't accept the idea that assholes get to be assholes with impunity, as if we live exclusively in their world and there's nothing we can do about it because "boys will be boys."

Rather than defer blindly to the term "trolling," I like to label behaviors based on what they do in the world. So, if someone is engaging in misogynist behavior, even if they believe they're "just trolling" (whatever dude), that's misogyny. And if that person doesn't like the word misogynist, if that label makes them cry hot tears and feel bad about themselves, then how about not behaving like a misogynist.

Because even though the term may have gained notoriety on 4chan, the concept—however you may choose to define it—of "trolling" is more mainstream today than it has ever been.

A Long Way to Go

A War of (Misdirected) Words

Search "trolls" on Google and you'll be hit with a deluge of articles defining the term in any number of ways. Whether it's being defined as someone who believes what they're saying in earnest, just wants to stir the pot, or is merely hopping on board a rage bandwagon—any rage bandwagon!—the only common thread is malicious intent. Which, according to Phillips, presents a major problem:

Calling behaviors designed to threaten, intimidate, and silence "trolling" (so, lumping ALL aggressive online behavior under the same umbrella term) risks minimizing the emotional impact of the most extreme behaviors, particularly when those behaviors are piled on as viciously and relentlessly as they have been throughout Gamergate.

Will We Ever Be Troll-Free?

Clearly, for as long as the internet has been around, trolls have existed in some form—whether they were called that or not. There will always be agitators. There will always be people who want upset others. That's not going to change.

What we can change, though, is how we approach these situations in all their varied forms. Which, according to Phillips, "depends on whose voices platform administrators, advertisers, and other people on the business end choose to privilege—the targets of abusive, intimidating behaviors or those who are doing the intimidating."

It's not an issue of "feeding the trolls" (a problematic phrase in its own right), but rather whether or not we're going to stop giving a platform to the trolls, the aggressors, and the antagonizers. Whether it be by not validating their behavior with concessions or dropping the catch-all term "troll" in favor of more accurate terminology—be it misogynist, sociopath, or straight-up dick.

So yes, assholes have and will always be around, as will their unfortunate victims. It's just a matter of who we let hold the megaphone.

Illustration by Jim Cooke

The prophecies of the French astrologer Nostradamus remain famous more than 400 years after his death. He has been credited with predicting events like the French Revolution and World War II. But, after careful scrutiny, we present evidence that his prophecies were, in fact, plot spoilers for the Star Wars films.

Image by Tara Jacoby, Photo via Getty

Nostradamus' prophecies were written in such vague, metaphorical language, that, over the years, people have selectively quoted and interpreted them to prove that he could see centuries into the future.

But, did it ever occur to anyone that Nostradamus wasn't predicting events, but film plots? More specifically, that Nostradamus, through his visions, saw the entire Star Wars saga before it was even made? We believe his writings were those of an enthusiastic fan and, as proof, we present his prophecies and—for the first time in history—interpret them for what they really are.

The Prophecy: "The wretched, unfortunate Republic will again be ruined by a new authority"

What it really means: Undermined by corruption and bureaucracy, Finis Valorum, the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, is removed from office through a vote of no confidence, and replaced by Senator Palpatine, who is secretly Darth Sidious.

The Prophecy: "The nautical Frog in its bosom be agreement"

What it really means: Jar Jar Binks takes it upon himself to propose that the Senate grant immediate emergency powers to Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, in response to the threat from the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

The Prophecy: "That which neither weapon nor flame could accomplish will be achieved by a sweet speaking tongue in council"

What it really means: As part of his plan to infiltrate and bring down the Jedi Order, Palpatine persuades Anakin Skywalker to become his personal representative in the Jedi Council and serve as the "the eyes, ears, and voice of the Republic."

The Prophecy: "Those most lettered in the celestial facts…punished by Edict, hunted, like criminals, and put to death wherever they will be found."

What it really means: The Great Jedi Purge begins with Order 66, in which Palpatine tells the Clone commanders to execute the Jedi Knights.

The Prophecy: "A man will be charged with the destruction of temples and sects, altered by fantasy…ears filled with ornate speeches"

What it really means: Anakin Skywalker, haunted by premonitions of Padme Amidala's death, is enticed to join the Dark Side of the Force, which Palpatine says will endow him with the power to save her life. Upon becoming Darth Vader, his first order from Palpatine is to kill everyone in the Jedi Temple.

The Prophecy: "Sham liberty will be proclaimed everywhere"

What it really means: Speaking before the Galactic Senate, Palpatine declares:

"In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure society which I assure you will last for ten thousand years. An empire that will continue to be ruled by this august body, and a sovereign ruler chosen for life . . . An Empire ruled by the majority . . . Ruled by a new constitution."

"So this is how liberty dies, with thunderous applause," says Padme Amidala.

The Prophecy: "The leader flees, hidden in the swampy marshes"

What it really means: Defeated by Emperor Palpatine, Jedi Master Yoda flees to the swamp world of Dagobah.

The Prophecy: "The unhappy abandoned one will die of grief"

What it really means: Padme Amidala, heart-broken by Anakin's betrayal, dies shortly after giving birth to Luke and Leia. "Medically, she is completely healthy," says the attending medical droid. "She has lost the will to live."

The Prophecy: "Sooner and later you will see great changes made, dreadful horrors and vengeances. For as the Moon is thus led by its angel the heavens draw near to the Balance"

What it really means: The Empire's reign of terror escalates with the construction of the Death Star—which Nostradamus metaphorically describes as a "Moon." Likewise, an angel is often defined as an "emissary of the Lord." So, when Nostradamus writes that the "Moon is thus led by its angel," he is saying that the Death Star is under the command of Grand Moff Tarkin, the Imperial representative of the Lord of the Sith.

These incidents, which unfold in Episode IV: A New Hope, mark the beginning of a sequence of events that—as Nostradamus predicts—will lead to the restoration of Balance within the Force.

The Prophecy: "Before the conflict the great wall will fall"

What it really means: Imperial ground forces, commanded by General Veers, land outside the shield protecting the Rebel Base on Hoth, and march overland to destroy the power generator.

The Prophecy: "The chief adversary will obtain the victory: The rear guard will make a defense, the faltering ones dead in the white territory."

What it really means: Having destroyed the shield generator, the Empire commences its all-out assault on the Rebel Base on Hoth, as the rebels attempt to buy time for their transports to escape. Rebel troops are struck down by the advancing Imperial forces, their bodies lying on the snowy surface of Hoth—which Nostradamus refers to as "the white territory."

The Prophecy: "Through great dangers the captive escaped. In a short time great his fortune changed. In the palace the people are trapped"

What it really means: Princess Leia Organa, disguised as a bounty hunter, manages to free Han Solo from his carbonite coffin. However, before they can escape, they are captured by Jabba the Hutt and imprisoned in his palace.

The Prophecy: "The blond one will come to compromise the fork-nosed one through the duel"

What it really means:Luke Skywalker defeats his father, Darth Vader, in a light-saber duel aboard the second Death Star.

The Prophecy: "Before the Empire changes a very wonderful event will take place."

What it really means: Emperor Palpatine tortures and prepares to kill Luke Skywalker, who pleads for his father to help. Darth Vader chooses his son over his dark master—reversing his ill-fated decision years before—and kills Palpatine by throwing him down the Death Star's reactor shaft.

The Prophecy: "The prince who has little pity of mercy will come through death to change…..After his death one will see a great marvel."

What it really means: The "prince who has little pity of mercy" is Darth Vader, the acolyte of Darth Sidious. As he dies, he tells his son to leave him. Luke refuses, saying "I've got to save you." His father responds, "You already have."

Amid the celebration of the Empire's defeat, Luke Skywalker sees three shimmering, smiling figures at the edge of the shadows: Ben Kenobi, Yoda and his father, now restored to his true persona, Anakin Skywalker.