Earlier this year, one of the defining villains of the age met his end. A generation of children grew up frightened by his legend and haunted by the image of his face. More than just an evildoer, he seemed at times to be the embodiment of evil itself, the ruthless leader of a vast and shadowy network whose very principle was terror. His death was unsurprisingly violent, widely celebrated (with a few qualms expressed here and there) and also curiously anticlimactic.

Voldemort was gone.

[On being duped by The Sopranos, from June 2007]

David Chase, you sadist. We trusted you, and then you turned on us—and maybe we deserved it.

The Streepified Margaret Thatcher may well become, like the letter-perfect Julia Child of Julie & Julia and the plausibly deniable Anna Wintour of The Devil Wears Prada, a more vivid and accessible version of the real thing. But however truthfully “The Iron Lady” represents Thatcher’s personal life and political career, it is quite unlikely that any film could properly register her impact as a cultural figure.

Will the Kowloon Walled City continue to inspire game designers and players alike, and will anybody remember that it was once a very real place?

From September 12, 2001:

The promenade yesterday was full of people, more than I’ve seen since the tall ships were in the harbor, and yet all absolutely still and silent. Each one of us came and stood, rooted at the spot where we first got the plume in full view.

As the Pop art work goes on display at MOCA, the question resurfaces: ‘Why soup?’ The answer may be traced to the Abstract Expressionist.