Mo Megabytes, Mo ProblemsA commentary on the unexpected liberation of hard drive failure

IT STARTS WITH a constricting of the muscles in my chest. I go cold suddenly, and then break out in an inexplicable sweat.

No, no, no!  I think to myself. What’s wrong with this thing?

My mind is racing, and I quickly begin to repeat my standard “electronic resuscitation sequence.” Spacebar, power button, mouse click, spacebar, power button, mouse click, spacebar… It’s not going to change things, but I’m not thinking clearly, and it’s the only option I know to try. By this point, it would be accurate to describe me as being in a state of full-blown panic.

Jesus, this can’t be happening now! It’s the worst possible time, but then again, any time is the worst time when your computer crashes. I’m irrationally angry with Apple and, for some reason, my iPod for continuing to work, while my laptop languishes in a state of malfunction. Images of Steve Jobs waking up next to a severed horse’s head flash in my mind.

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Treat Her Right: Jagger EdgeAn occasional briefing on the latest goods, getaways and hot spots your lady will love

"V.I.P." Fur iPad and "Montana" Studded Leather iPhone Cases by Jagger Edge

By Yang-Yi Goh | Photographs by Allen Tullos

ITS NAME MIGHT simultaneously call to mind both a cheesy early ‘00s R&B band and the Stones’ increasingly decrepit lead singer, but Jagger Edge is not the latest ill-advised mash-up project to hit the blogosphere.

Instead, it’s one of the freshest young companies in the country, pushing a line of chic iPhone and iPad cases that your girlfriend is likely already lusting after. 

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The Handlebar Guide to Thrift and Vintage ShoppingSix thrift store masters divulge their secrets for digging up incredible threads at shockingly low prices

THERE’S NO DENYING IT: thrift stores can be a little intimidating. They’re grimy and musty and smell like that homeless dude on the subway—who, coincidentally, is probably there trying on a sweater. The employees are often cantankerous and uncooperative. Migraine-inducing fluorescent lights flicker from above, and awful smooth jazz pumps deliriously from the speakers. And, of course, there are racks upon racks of pit-stained, moth-holed clothes that look like they came straight from the set of Oliver Twist.

But hidden deep amongst all the dregs and rubbish are spectacular vintage gems at heart-stoppingly low prices: Harris Tweed sport coats and preppy madras pants; silk knit ties and handmade English brogues; hardy Woolrich flannels and lavish cashmere sweaters. If you can overlook the rather squalid ambience and take the time to dig, you’ll quickly discover there is simply no better way for budget-conscious guys to add well-made, beautiful items to their wardrobe.

To aid in your pursuit of secondhand sartorial glory, we’ve enlisted an all-star squad of vintage connoisseurs and had them spill the beans on their hard-earned techniques for uncovering thrift store gold. 

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Crouching Tiger, Hidden Knee BraceWhy does Tiger keep losing? It's time to realize that his greatest hurdles are physical, not mental

In case you haven’t heard, Tiger Woods recently fired his caddy Steve Williams. I’m sure there’s some story behind it, and sports media outlets will continue to discuss it endlessly. But I’m here to tell you that, like so many other things that have happened to Tiger, it doesn’t matter. It will have no effect on his golf career, period.

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From Four Till LateOne of Mississippi's last surviving juke joints provides a rollicking, rambunctious taste of Southern culture

THERE WAS ROOM TO DANCE, but not to move. I had sweat more in the past two hours than I had in the past two weeks. It was all but assured that if there was a mishap with one of the room’s many, many lit cigarettes, we would all be torched faster than you could ask, “Is this a fire hazard?”

A friend asked if I wanted to leave. I did not.

I was at Po’ Monkey’s in Merigold, Mississippi, a three room shack older than God but twice as fun. Ninety minutes south of Memphis and miles away from America as you or I know it, Po’ Monkey’s is one of the last surviving juke joints in the Mississippi Delta, though to describe it as “surviving” seems condescending. Survival is for capitalists; Po’ Monkey’s will die when it’s good and ready.

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