“Hey, Mom, if you’re reading this, I love you. Thanks so much for all your support and kindness over the years—it has meant so much to me. Love, X.” Feel free to use this as a boilerplate greeting for your Mother’s Day card. Or, you can send her this slide show and say that there was a typo with the “X” part. I know I’ll be sending it to my mother. I love you, Mom!
Colin Stokes is a former member of The New Yorker’s editorial staff.
Goings On
What we’re watching, listening to, and doing this week, online, in N.Y.C., and beyond. Paid subscribers also receive book picks.
The New Yorker Interview
The Scholar of Comedy
Jerry Seinfeld on how to write jokes, the ending of “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” and the world-historical struggle to invent the Pop-Tart.
By David Remnick
Comment
Donald Trump’s Sleepy, Sleazy Criminal Trial
The most striking aspect of the former President’s hush-money trial so far has been that, for the first time in a decade, Trump is struggling to command attention.
By Benjamin Wallace-Wells
The Weekend Essay
How to Eat a Rattlesnake
In my native Oklahoma, snake meat was a masculine trophy, edible proof that you were willing to tangle with death.
By John Paul Brammer
Annals of Gastronomy
Are We Living Through a Bagel Renaissance?
A new wave of shops has made its mark across the country—and shaken New York’s bagel scene out of complacency.
By Hannah Goldfield