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The Tony Kiritsis Saga

“Tony slipped on the ice, taking Hall with him. If one of the two hadn’t fallen, Hall would have been killed right there.”

Deborah Paul
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The Late Show

Over the last couple of years, I have seen, in person, the following performers: Willie Nelson, Tony Bennett, Joan Rivers, Jackie Mason, Garrison Keillor, Candice Bergen, Bill Cosby, Angela Lansbury, and James Earl Jones. Common among these celebrities is “maturity,” and, pardon the insensitivity, plenty of it. In fact, rough math indicates that their combined age approximates the 700-year-old mummy recently discovered in China.

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Media Day Tees Off at Carmel's Crooked Stick

With as smooth a swing as you’ll ever see, defending champion Justin Rose drove home the official start of festivities surrounding the BMW Championships on Monday, scorching a dead-center drive down the fairway to the delight of onlooking dignitaries and media members.

JR Hildebrand skids to the finish line in a badly damaged car at the end of last year’s 500.
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Turning the Corner: JR Hildebrand

JR Hildebrand spotted the starter’s white flag. “Bring it home, baby, bring it home,” chirped the rookie’s support staff over the radio from their perch in the pits. Four left turns away from winning the 2011 Indianapolis 500, Hildebrand buried the rush of excitement. No one, he told himself, cares who leads lap No. 199 at Indy. In the ether, though, the announcer’s voice on the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Radio Network was already rising. Here he goes, the final lap! Across the line, JR Hildebrand will see the white flag.

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Life Support: My Battle with Breast Cancer

On an overcast day this past autumn, I sat across a table at a downtown sandwich shop with my niece Wendy, sobbing. She was there to provide a shoulder and cajole me into eating the chicken-noodle soup that had become my staple since being diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer a few weeks before.

Jim Voyles. Indianapolis Monthly, July 2011.
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He Hired Jim Voyles

When Tunks stepped out of the store, the door of a van in the parking lot slid open, and a team of armed police piled out. He heard them shouting, “Get down on the ground!” His first thought was that someone coming out of the store right behind him must be in trouble. He swiveled around to look. No one was there. When he turned back, red lights flashed in his eyes. He looked down and saw a swarm of tight red dots flitting around on his chest—laser sights. “On the ground!” came the shouts, again, and this time Tunks obliged. One of the officers cuffed Tunks’s hands behind his back and sat him on the curb.