No one thought, moved, or sounded like Jonathan Winters, who has died at age 87. A comedian who worked in nightclubs, on television, and in movies, he was always the very odd man out, a deeply original, neurotic eccentric who was admired by contemporaries, idolized by the generation represented by his closest adept, Robin Williams, and encouraged and then chewed up by an industry that could never find the proper showcase for his unique talents. He fought depression, alcoholism, and a free-floating sense of never belonging, and in the latter regard, he was poignantly correct.

Winters in his 1950s-to-early-1960s prime bridged mainstream and hipster comedy. He came to prominence during a time when new terrain was being cleared by comedians such as Nichols and May, Dick Gregory, Mort Sahl, Bob Newhart, Redd Foxx, and the so-called “sick” humor of Lenny Bruce, Shelley Berman, and—invoked just last week on the season premiere of Mad Men—Milt Kamen.

Psy: Gangnam Style

This pony-dancing extravaganza from the South Korean megastar is the most-watched video in YouTube history. Nuff said.

We'll file this one under maybe.

Kate Middleton's spokespeople were last year forced to deny rumours that the Duchess was sent (or sent back) bundles of free clothes from Kim Kardashian, but the young royal apparently can't get enough of Kim's show Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

The Internet can be a pretty sinister place.

It’s a gateway for identity theft, which scammed Americans out of some $48 billion in 2012; it’s the delivery system for cyberbullying, which affects almost half of all American teens, according to the National Crime Prevention Council; and it’s led to the proliferation of child pornography, with the FBI reporting 5,900 pending child-pornography/child sexual-exploitation investigations as of April 2012—up from just 80 in 2001. And it has fundamentally changed the way we communicate—or connect—with the ones we love.

The downside of interviewing Mike Tyson on the phone: I don’t get to see what his face tattoo looks like up close. Upside: I can ask anything I want, with little fear of getting my jaw broken.

So when the former heavyweight boxing champion, ear-biter, convicted rapist, born-again vegan, pigeon racer, movie star, politician, philanthropist, and “prostitute hunter” (his words) called Friday morning, I had high expectations for Charlie-Sheen candor. “Kid Dynamite” would be weeping by the time I was through with him, and next thing I knew I’d be on a plane to Vegas for a green smoothie and a hug.

Tony Hale is very good at being weird.

The legions of crazy-obsessed Arrested Development fans—so passionate they brought the canceled sitcom back to life—already knew that from his three seasons as the neurotic, quasi-Oedipal Buster Bluth on the cherished sitcom. Now Hale is doubling up on the odd, reprising his role as Buster for the relaunch of Arrested Development on Netflix, set to premiere May 26, and starring as eccentric body man to Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s vice president Selina Meyer on the second season of HBO’s political comedy Veep, which premieres Sunday.

This season of American Idol really does feel like the End of Times. The singers are dull, half the judges hate each other, and now the show has been hijacked by Lazaro Arbos, the inspirational crooner who was selected by producers for overcoming his stutter. He can't sing on key or remember his lyrics, but Lazaro still outshines all the other divas. He's become the best worst contestant in American Idol history. Even Sanjaya Malakar didn't make it this far.

On Wednesday's episode, the contestants each performed two songs. The judges gave everyone vague praise—including mediocre singers like Janelle Arthur—until it was Lazarro's turn. And then they turned into Mean Girls. After Lazarro's first song, Close to You, Randy Jackson seemed to wake from a long nap. "Yo. Wow. I'm actually kind of speechless," he said. "I think that's the worst performance you've ever had." Mariah Carey broke into a long, incoherent critique—"I say, what's the word, darling? Help me out! Lord in Heaven! Um..."—about key change that was far more painful to watch than the singing. While this was happening, poor Lazarro was wearing a suit that looked like pajamas from The Brady Bunch.