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I’m not the first to weigh in on the topic—but where the movement was once fringe or hush-hush, it’s now out in the open. In fact, top-sheet truthers are passionate and offer reams (bolts?) of compelling evidence for the superiority of this choice.

Storage is one of the things I’ve long hated about fitted sheets. It’s impossible to fold after it comes out of the dryer and, despite the hundreds of folding lessons I’ve researched on YouTube, I can never get it right. I always end up rolling the fitted sheet up like a tube sock. It’s awful.

This same caution dictated his muted response to the massacre in Tiananmen Square on June 4, 1989. China’s decision to clear the Tiananmen protesters by force led to a massacre in which untold hundreds of demonstrators were killed. Liberal and conservative leaders in the U.S. joined in calling on Bush to punish China. But here, too, he worried that too strong a denunciation would only provoke a backlash in Beijing.

The classics that came out around the time of Picnic at Hanging Rock — Carrie, Jaws, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, The Wicker Man, Suspiria, and so on — are famous for their shocks. But the PG-rated Hanging Rock entirely resists the urge to startle. An integral entry in Australian New Wave of cinema, director Peter Weir’s film is notable for the absence of violence or even a conventionally advancing narrative. The most traditionally horror-movie moment is this scene, when a group of schoolgirls in the year 1900 disappear into a mysterious rock formation during a hot Valentine’s Day afternoon, and young Edith runs screaming from the site of their vanishing. The rest of the movie exists in a sort of dream state, mining the anxiety of the characters in the wake of the incident to create a pervasive sense of dread, and developing an undercurrent of female restlessness and sexual longing among the boarding school students. If you look at the aesthetically meticulous highbrow style of horror that’s so fashionable today — epitomized by movies like Hereditary, The Witch, and It Comes at Night — Picnic at Hanging Rock starts to feel like the template for boutique studio A24’s entire genre film slate. —JC

When Gabriel released Up, it had been a full 10 years since his preceding solo album. And as many experimentally-minded musicians of his generation as well as young rock bands did around the turn of the century, he wound up employing a lot of thick, then-cutting-edge electronics. Maybe it’s just that the sounds associated with his ’80s work are more in vogue today, or maybe it’s the inherent disjuncture that sometimes comes with an artist trying to adapt to the sound of too many passing eras, but the aesthetic of Up is often what sinks it. (You also have to wonder if such a long stretch between releases means some songs gestated for far too long; by the time Up came out, a lot of the songs already sounded dated.) But no Gabriel album is without its worthwhile moments, and Up did have “No Way Out,” a slow-burn contemplation that was a more appropriate backdrop for the gravel of a now-50-something Gabriel and all the places he’d seen in his life.

Zoliflodacin was effective in treating gonococcal urogenital and rectal infections, but less effective in the treatment of pharyngeal gonorrhea.

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We begin by clearing out the fridge in the kitchen, replacing the packets of sugar and plastic spoons, checking the stocks of bread and Coco Pops. The hot porridge trolley arrives and we orbit the department to see if anyone would like some. No takers.

It was as if he realized that his entire life had been pointed to the diplomacy and leadership, the exquisite balancing of risk and caution, that he had brought to the effort in Kuwait. To marshal the world for the first time—still the only time—and to balance that world on the knife’s edge between restraint and fury, and to unleash that power so decisively, and to halt it with such discipline, was a work that would not be surpassed in a second term. Having done his best when it counted, a seed of doubt crept in: did he really want to grind out a less dramatic second act?

The Guardian learnt that most of the patients had been discharged while the few still in the wards are the critical emergency cases.

But the women might not have been found, except for the final murder allegedly committed by Darren Vann, 44, in Hammond.

It’s not a horror film — more a niftily claustrophobic suspense flick — but Terence Young’s 1967 classic contains one of the all-time greatest (literal) jump scares. Alan Arkin plays one of three crooks who have been slowly conning and manipulating Audrey Hepburn’s embattled blind housewife into revealing the whereabouts of a doll filled with heroin that has been hidden somewhere in her apartment. By this point, she has pretty much defeated all three of the men and stabbed Arkin in the chest with a kitchen knife. But she’s still trapped inside and begins to run toward the window to yell for help. When, suddenly, he plunges out of the darkness and grabs her. It’s one of the first, and still among the best, instances of the he’s-not-dead-yet! scare that would become so common in slasher films and other horror flicks. It notoriously prompted audiences at the time to break out in screams. You can even see its direct influence in the finale of The Terminator, as Arnold Schwarzenegger’s broken, dying robot drags itself toward Linda Hamilton, much like Arkin does toward Hepburn here. And the way Arkin’s leap is framed and timed — the damn thing still jolts, all these many years later. —BE