Okay, people for real need to leave poor Colton alone.

The F.B.I. is now looking into some of the graphic messages musician Ryan Adams was accused of sending to a teenager in light of a New York Times piece wherein multiple women came forward to accuse Adams of proffering career advancement while simultaneously asking for sex.

The real national emergency is the fact that I drank nine cans of Diet Dr. Pepper today and still feel alive!

There’s a Mr. Peanut ad featuring sex therapist Dr. Ruth about spicing up Valentine’s Day, and it’s raunchy as hell. This begs the question: Does Mr. Peanut fuck?

In just ten days, we’ll be basking in yet another Oscars ceremony, this one with no host, fewer awards, and probably an exponential increase in disaster. To help you prepare for the schadenfreude (revisit last year’s explanations for clarity on this concept), we’ve enlisted our beloved former Jezebel Managing Editor,…

After engineering the longest government shutdown in history over his fixation on a border wall, it appeared that Donald Trump would back down from the idea and sign a bipartisan agreement that doesn’t fund a concrete barrier but includes $1.375 billion for border fencing as well as an increase in funding for…

If you are unmarried but otherwise taken, what do you call your significant other? If you are like me, you call your boyfriend your boyfriend, and if your life is like mine, this is silly because it’s been years (okay decades) since he could reasonably be labeled a boy and he is so much more than a mere friend.

Famed saxophonist Kenny G is stuck in the labyrinth of roses and soulless minimalism that is Kim Kardashian’s living room. Will he ever get out? Probably not. Je téléphone la police!

Drag Race alum Aja may be best known for their unbridled opinions, excellent ensembles, and the ability to dip from great heights, but performing in drag for Aja was just a stepping stone towards their larger goal of becoming a rapper.

This show never made more (which is to say less) sense than when a man dressed as a peacock sang the Weeknd’s ode to cocaine, “I Can’t Feel My Face.” Or when La Toya Jackson discussed once owning two snakes, Adam and Eve. Or when guest host J. B. Smoove’s imagery of Paula Abdul getting whiplash onstage had the…

Becoming an insufferable Anglophile used to take years of experience. For myself, it required round the clock viewings of Bedknobs and Broomsticks, obsessing over the Spice Girls, reading Angus, Thongs, and Full Frontal Snogging, going through a weird Oasis phase when I was 14, finding bootleg streams of Skins in high…

Chicago prosecutors are investigating a VHS tape of what appears to be, according to lawyer Michael Avenatti, singer R. Kelly raping a girl.

New York Fashion Week is over now, almost everything was a snooze, but somehow—against my own personal expectations—Marc Jacobs showed up and showed the fuck out.

An investigation by Buzzfeed News has found that date rape drug testing is notoriously unreliable and inconclusive, yet continue to be presented in courtrooms and by investigators as evidence. The end result, former prosecutors say, is that rapists are walking away free.

Happy Valentine’s Day, when two people fall in love they buy an entire Brooklyn brownstone and fill it with fireplaces and conspicuously teak furniture so they can have high ceilings over their heads as they pretend to be bohemian artist types—thus it is written.