Hail Satan?“Sorry about the mess,” Lucien Greaves, the cofounder of the Satanic Temple, says to the crew of Hail Satan? as he welcomes them into the organization’s headquarters in Salem, Massachusetts. Like the Satanic Temple, director Penny Lane’s Hail Satan? isn’t quite what it seems: Yes, Lane’s affectionate and funny documentary does feature some pig heads getting slammed onto spikes, and yes, there are some naked writhing people. But Hail Satan? is more interested in the organization’s vision of “contemporary satanism”—one that doesn’t include worshipping the devil but does include progressive activism and providing a “sociopolitical counter-myth” in a country that’s too often characterized as a “Christian nation.” [Greaves:] "We are a secular nation. We are supposed to be a democratic, pluralist nation.” That’s a fact that seems ominously and increasingly forgotten in Trump’s America, so forget about the question mark. Hail Satan. ERIK HENRIKSENSIFF Cinema Egyptian

Biscuiteers’ Christmas workshops are designed to guide eager icers through the creation of some of their most iconic tins. “This year, this includes our Nutcracker, Snowman and Winter Wonderland designs, as well as a construction class for our DIY Gingerbread house – all allowing you to take your masterpiece home afterwards. Our boutique teams adore running these classes and love seeing those who have taken a class with us previously return for festive favourites, as well as welcoming new icers who are keen to be Biscuiteers!”

Hyundai’s i30 now stretches from a bargain $19,990 hatch to a rip-snorting $39,990 hot hatch, the i30 N Performance. But will it make the competition sit up and take notice?

"IT’S WINTER WONDERLAND at Sleighbells. Our family has been coming here for several years and each year this place gets better and better!!" – Lisa H.VISIT23855 SW 195th PlaceSherwood, OR 97140

I left White Mountain in the early-morning hours, when the wind is said to be gentlest, but it was already blowing hard. Drifts had formed since the last team passed through. Pepe zigzagged between the trail markers, searching for a hard-packed path. Sometimes she found one and we flew for a few yards; sometimes she stepped off an unseen ledge and sank chest-deep in powder. By the time the sun rose, the white landscape lit with a colorless glow, wind from the northeast hit us like a wall. We ran diagonally, all of us leaning; the dogs lowered their heads. At the same time, an opaque fog formed at my eye level, resting on clear air like oil on water. When I ducked beneath it, I saw deserted fish camps half-buried in drifts, wooden buildings and drying racks abandoned for the season in hard-packed mounds of snow.

SCOOP: I didn’t realize how much of an impact this cover would have, but the rawness of it—there was no other magazine that could’ve executed this. That cover represents everything that SLAM is about. It’s like a Michael Jackson album. Everything just seemed to work at the same time.

Then we came around a corner, and the trail just disappeared. It dropped over something I might call, in other contexts, a cliff: not quite vertical, but you couldn’t walk down it, either. The dogs didn’t hesitate. They flowed over the edge, vanishing, and then the sled tipped after them and fell beneath me. We half slid, half fell down the slope, and then the bottom caught us, and within seconds it was over. A minute later, another Step: everything fell away, we dropped, we landed. And once more—I held my breath, almost giddy at this point, the sensation now familiar—until we came to rest, at a gentle lope, along the sun-kissed snow of the bare and glowing Happy River.

Who says red and green or silver and gold are the only color combinations anyone wants to see around the holidays? The Crafted Sparrow covered her tree in a wide variety of shapes, patterns, textures and words, all adhering to a bold black-and-white scheme, which puts a stylish spin on the same old holiday decorations.

A friend and I decide to spend an evening at Port du Moulin, exploring the coastline and the caves before attempting to find our way back to the pathway up the cliffside. We have one torch between us, no more powerful than a bicycle light, and in spite of our copy of La Trobe we inevitably get lost. After an hour of scrambling over boulders, we realise that the water has risen above our most likely escape route, and soon the entire bay will be submerged. There’s a very good reason why the Sark hoteliers provide guests with detailed tidal information.

BBA-RAYS-SNELL:PT — Blake Snell’s first step toward rejoining the Rays rotation this week was a solid one.

I might point out here that by this point these gentleman had had the benefit of having indulged in a few of the concession stand’s other offerings, a cold pop or two. One of them was absolutely insistent that the headline to this story be, “Tastes Like Chicken.” I feel he could have made a healthier editorial judgment had he been of sounder mind. Anyway, to them, this big bird was beautiful. I wasn’t going to bust their apple bags over it.

“Is this you?” Dillon asked, pointing to one of the men on the video, according to investigation transcripts. Schwinkendorf said it was. The other two suspects had come to his house for a barbecue before they went camping, he said. “We had been drinking quite a bit,” Schwinkendorf admitted. He told the detectives that the trio then went to Ash Meadows to shoot rabbits. Schwinkendorf said he had only vague recollections of being at Devils Hole, though he remembered vomiting; his friends had teased him about it.