Choosing a fine writing instrument is a lot like buying a car: “You need to test drive a lot of them,” says Marshall. “Not all pens work for individual writing styles.” Since the size, shape and flexibility of the nib determines the flow of ink and impacts the writer’s personal style, it’s important to find the type which best suits you and your budget. Collectors drop thousands on a single pen. But since we’re talking pens for writers, we’ve capped our choices at $150.
By Mark Shaffer | August 23, 2006
First off, let's get one thing straight about shopping for dear old Dad this Father's Day. No ties.
By Mark Shaffer | June 15, 2006
Despite the fact that he's a polite and wholly upstanding family man, Krysztof Nemeth knows a few hundred girls. And they're not exactly Girl Scouts, either. Some have devil horns poking out of lacquer-black hair; some carry whips and knives; some tie up other girls and leave them in compromising positions. It seems the naughtier the girl is, the more affection Krysztof has for them.
By Geoff Carter | February 27, 2006
I'm only going to run through this once, because otherwise it's gonna get stuck in my head and nothing will get it out, shy of an ice pick. I don't want to put an ice pick in my ear so just ... listen.
By Geoff Carter | December 12, 2005
Hill's new cut of the movie doesn't add or subtract scenes, but does impose a comic-book-like series of scene transitions that I'm not sure if I like or not. Fortunately, the disk includes a fascinating new "making-of" documentary, and has crystal-clear sound and picture.
By Geoff Carter | November 4, 2005
I haven't been much of a Halloween fan since 1993, when a longtime girlfriend left me to run away with vampires. Live-action role-playing vampires, to be precise — a mob of quasi-goth wingnuts running the local "Vampire: The Masquerade" game. After weeks of babbling about "the Clan Ventrue" and "bloodwine," my girl finally packed up her kit and coffin and transmogrified herself out of my life two weeks shy of All Hallow's Eve. I spent the holiday, and most Halloweens after that, sitting in gloomy bars muttering obscenities into my wolfbane. Nothing could scare me.
By Geoff Carter | October 7, 2005
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