Gawker

Frank McCourt, Author, Dead at 78 [And Now He's Dead]

Foster Kamer — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 19:45:35 -0400

Frank McCourt, beloved Irish-American Pulitzer-winning author and retired schoolteacher, died today of complications relating to meningitis. He was 78. He'd been sick for quite some time after being treated for a bout with melanoma.

McCourt's childhood was, to say the least, an incredibly sad one. He grew up in utter poverty first in Brooklyn, where he was born, then in Ireland, where his family moved when he was four years-old after being unable to find work during the Great Depression. What followed were years of McCourt being surrounded by alchoholism, sickness, depression, and hunger: three of his siblings died as children, his father was always looking for work, and he was forced to quit school when he was 13 in order to take odd jobs (including some slightly criminal ones) in order to help keep what remained of his family alive. This period in his life were the foundation for his first memoirs, 1996's Angela's Ashes, which launched him to worldwide fame. It won the National Book Award, the Pulitzer Prize, and was adapted into a feature film.

McCourt moved back to Brooklyn when he was 19, where he was drafted into Military service for a short time before coming back and getting his masters degree to teach. He remained a public high school English teacher for thirty years, eventually ending up at, among other places, Manhattan's famed Stuyvesant High School, which has a pretty notable list of alumni. Much of these experiences were chronicled in his bestselling third memoir, Teacher Man. His second book, Tis, was also a bestseller; it's centered around his years emigrating his family back to America after the events chronicled in Angela's Ashes.

McCourt's survived by a daughter and a granddaughter. The man has far too many good quotes to pull from, but the LA Times sufficent obituary pulled a pretty good one that's very telling of his success story: a guy who found his fame in his later years, and was revered worldwide for it:

We were all storytellers growing up," McCourt said of his family in a 2000 interview with the Toronto Sun. "That's all we had. There was no TV or radio. We'd sit around the fire and make up stories. My dad was a great storyteller. We'd mention a neighbor, and he'd make up a story.
"But I also had to be a great storyteller to survive teaching. I spent 30 years in the classroom. When you stand before 170 teenagers each day, you have to get and keep their attention. Their attention span is about seven minutes, which is the time between commercials. So you have to stay on your toes."

And then there's this one, from a New York Times op-ed McCourt wrote about teaching creative writing to high-schoolers:

They wanted to know why I was asking such crazy questions. I told them to figure it out for themselves. The last thing a writer needs is answers — the end of thought and the dream. But I could have told them what they sensed already: they were beginning to notice what they had previously taken for granted, ritual or the lack of it, the dance of the family dinner.

Where are the dreams and fantasies of childhood? The heads of adolescents are clogged with media images and sounds. The teacher, then, is the Knight or Fair Maid of the Imagination and the battle lines are drawn. Pull the plug, cut off the juice, let the batteries die. Just sit there and dream.

And when in doubt, tell a story.

Frank McCourt, late-blooming author of 'Angela's Ashes,' dies at 78 [LAT]
Frank McCourt, Author of ‘Angela's Ashes,' Dies at 78 [NYT]
"Angela's Ashes'' author Frank McCourt dead at 78 [Irish Central]

Meet the Magic Condom, Inspiring Teen Sex and Gay Cops [Things We Actually Like]

Aaron Coleman — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 19:00:00 -0400

Baby Winged Cupid's got competish! This French spot for Durex has a mystical used purple condom package that flies through town inspiring old folks, male cops and teens to do the nasty. That's right, teens.

To a peppy tune that sounds pulled from the ABBA dustbin, Condom-Cupid flies by two innocent adolescents studying in a bedroom. Well, that's about to turn inta' a lesson in biology! (Ba-dum-bum!) Of course this would never fly in the Red, White and Blue because teens here don't have sex, right?

But old folks do! Whimsical Condom-Cupid then flutters past two senior citz, who smash up their charmingly prim tea set to get - it - awn. (Grandpa's steady gaze is classic.)

It gets more intense. Condom-Cupid flies past a swanky cocktail fête, prompting a pondering partygoer to shut the curtains and presumably start an orgy! They've been in the air.

Finally, the gay cops. Watch the video for that one.

We LOVE Condom-Cupid! Let's name him/her/it, shall we?

. . .

NYT To America's Teenage Drivers: Stop Texing, Goddamnit! [Highway To Hell]

Foster Kamer — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 18:15:01 -0400

You know you've done things while driving besides driving. Old ppl at the Times would like you to know: it's bad, shame on you, and you should play our video game to see how good at it you are.

No, seriously, you're way too distracted. I know I am. Things I can do while driving, at the same time:

Use a stick shift,
smoke a cigarette,
change CDs,
drink a slurpee,
and talk on the phone.

But isn't that talent, though? I could probably eat a cheeseburger, too-which some places actually encourage, especially on the West Coast, where In-N-Out will hand you your food in a box to eat "in your car"-but it wouldn't go well with the Cig and the Slurpee. Apparently, this kind of thing isn't appreciated by The Olds at the Times, especially when teenagers do it:

"Extensive research shows the dangers of distracted driving. Studies say that drivers using phones are four times as likely to cause a crash as other drivers, and the likelihood that they will crash is equal to that of someone with a .08 percent blood alcohol level, the point at which drivers are generally considered intoxicated. Research also shows that hands-free devices do not eliminate the risks, and may worsen them by suggesting that the behavior is safe. "

So I guess what they're saying is that it's better to get behind the wheel kind of drunk than be on your phone. Anyway, the only part of this Times article that's revelatory in any regard (because the entire thing is basically "if you're doing anything but driving you're going to crash," which I think they teach you in Drivers Ed but don't remember because I was napping) is that the New York Times makes crafty videogames!

Amazing. Basically, you have to use the numbers at the top of your keyboard (not your keypad, because that would be cheating) to pick out the "gate" your call will drive through while clicking letters on a phone with your mouse to simulate texting. It's pretty fun and you will laugh at how many times you crash into the gates, but also, how terrible of a simulation texting and driving is, particularly because the game has you changing five lanes every two seconds, but mostly because texting and driving is way easier than that, duh. Besides which, it's like your parents say: it's not you you're worried about. It's the other drivers.

Drivers and Legislators Dismiss Cellphone Risks [NYT]

Silly New York Times Driving Video Game [NYT]

Lobbyists Having Homeless Guys Wait Out Lines For Them On Capital Hill [Get In Line]

Foster Kamer — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 17:30:03 -0400

Not surprising, but it looks like lobbyists are having homeless guys wait out lines on Capital Hill for them. This sounds like an old, unspoken trick not really worth mentioning, except CNN had someone on camera talking openly about it.

The CNN report dropped earlier this week, but video just showed up today. Here's the practice: lobbyists need to get into congressional hearings on things, but they often get packed in, and they need placeholders in line to wait it out for them.

Unfortunately, this pisses off people, for example: the ones who can't pay to have people hold places in lines for them. Like, say, the environmentalists:

Kalen Pruss, a fellow at the Internet environmental group avaaz.org, and her group of cheering green T-shirted environmentalists were shut out of the hearing. "It's very unfortunate that the people who come here to line-stand always beat us here cause they can stand here all night," Pruss said.

On one hand, this is definitely just another example of lobbyists with money - who often come from corporate interests, because corporate interests have money - buying time, space, and influence. On another hand, it's somewhat exploitative of the homeless. And on the other hand, it's putting income in the hands of people who didn't have it before someone told them to stand somewhere for eight hours, a job pretty much anybody's qualified for, so long as they show up.

Whatever. If treehuggin' Phish Phans can strap themselves to trees to save their foliage friends, they can certainly stand in line with some homeless dudes. Honestly, they need the money. We all do. And if we can take it from corporations and put it into the the pockets of people who're otherwise down on their luck in a system that's already subverted daily, it can't be that bad, can it?

Well?

Homeless stand in for lobbyists on Capitol Hill [CNN]

Paula Abdul and American Idol Divorce, TVs Nationwide Implode [Divorces]

Aaron Coleman — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 17:00:47 -0400

American Idol charming kook Paula Abdul has not, we repeat, NOT received a contract for next season, which starts shooting in, um, three weeks. Is it the end of television? Will FOX fold? It's Armageddon!

"It does not appear that she's going to be back on 'Idol,'" says Paula's manager David Sonenberg. He's tried and tried to get some sort of deal from producers FremantleMedia and 19 Entertainment, but well... we all know what it means when Hollywood doesn't return calls. Blame new judge Kara DioGuardi. Paula's status as Queen of AI felt rocky as soon as there was a new girl in town. We smell a catfight!

Ryan Gay/Straight/Gay Seacrest, meanwhile, sits pretty and overly tanned with his three-year, $45 million deal. Oh, Paula, we love you, because you're cra-ay-ay-azy! [EW]

Knock-Knock, It's Your Friendly Neighborhood Nazi [The Latest In Hate]

Aaron Coleman — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 16:00:37 -0400

The Post reports that 300 old school, "Heil Hitler" Nazis lurk in America, doing monstrosities like retiring in Michigan and tending flowers in Queens. Meanwhile, new school Nazis spread seeds of hate by makin' sweet love to Israeli women.

The Simon Wiesenthal Center is closing in on the few remaining survivors of modern history's greatest atrocity, aiming to weed out the last few WWII Nazis hiding in America before they are "too sick to bring to trial." On the one hand, these former Nazis have worked hard to escape their past and become upstanding members of society. On the other hand, they did keep malnourished concentration camp prisoners from escaping using attack dogs. Kiiiinda hard to let that slide.

Old School Putridity
The info comes about because John Demjanjuk, an 89-year-old former Ohio auto worker, was charged last week with war crimes after being shipped back to the Vaterland. Today, he looks like everyone's grandpa, slightly befuddled and snoozing in a haggard armchair. Except...well... he's been charged with participating in Nazi death camp murders in 1943. Not exactly the fine, upstanding life of the world's former oldest man.

New School Excrescence
Meanwhile last week, authorities nabbed 33-year-old Mickey Louis Mayer, the triple threat White Supremacist, KKK Member and Neo-Nazi who's also a card carrying member of the FBI's 100-Most Wanted List. This freak fled America to become on illegal alien in, of all places, Israel! After hiding out in Tel Aviv's hippie community, he felt that loving feelin' and started courting a Jewish Israeli gal. Repentant? Hardly. On finding out he impregnated her, he went batshit crazy at the thought of having a half-Jewish kid, spilled the beans, and girlfriend ran to the authorities. Mayon is being shipped back to America TONIGHT.

We also frickin' frakin' freakin' hope the same rigorous effort is being expended to ferret out the Neo-Nasty racists who proudly proclaim their hate in our very military.

Nazis! They're our neighbors, our grandpas, our soldiers, the father of our children. Stop the fucking madness!

Ronald Reagan's National Ice Cream Day Celebrates Your Fat, Ignorant, Disease-Proponent Ass [Frozen Lactose]

Foster Kamer — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 15:30:20 -0400

Speaking of munchies, did you know today was National Ice Cream Day? This is apparently Ronald Reagan's fault. Go out and get yourself a tasty confection. Then read this old NYT letter to the editor and laugh. Oh, and this:

Picture is "Scary Ice Cream" by Mike Melva.

Has New York Post Gossip Columnist Cindy Adams Just Totally Lost it? [Crazy Aunt Cindy]

Foster Kamer — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 14:45:38 -0400

Every week, Cindy Adams puts out her Page Six gossip column, which we all love for its general old-school Manhattan eccentricity. But this one is just...unreal. Has she lost her shit? Contained herein: dogs sniffing butts, "humanoids," and the Hamptons.

This one could really be presented context-free, but we'll do you the favor to try and interpret whatever's going on in Crazy Aunt Cindy's forever young but possibly aging head. She tries dissecting the tribal rites of the Hamptons.

The lede:

Various civilizations practice inherent traditions that hark to the beginning of time. They even predate Andy Rooney.

Touche! Take it for what you will, but I take her calling Andy Rooney old as projecting.
Watch:

In olden days [Ed. Heh. She remembers!] native Americans raised their hands and said, "How." In Tibet one greets another by the exchange of bits of cloth. Muslim Indonesia is fingers to the lips in prayer fashion. In Japan they bow. In Washington they put their hand out and then into your pocket. In Hawaii they offer a lei. In Turkey it's a coffee. India's welcome is "Namaste." Thailand's is "Sawadee." Brooklyn's is "Yo, man." When a Yorkie comes up to a Maltese he sniffs its butt.

Wait what? Besides the fact that the cliche'd Brooklynite stereotype of a rough-around-the-edges native New Yorker has been (sadly) extinct and sterile for years, now, how Cindy went from Thailand to Brooklyn to Dogs Sniffing Asses is beyond me. But still, excusable eccentricity. Then, this:

For humanoids there exists in our part of the world some form of unspoken East Coast tribal rite not taught in guidebooks.

She obviously talking about the Hamptons, yes, but humanoids? Someone's seen Alien Nation one too many times. It just goes on and on about the Hamptons and how crazy they are for old ladies. Finally, she just gives in and more or less comes to terms with the fact that she is a crazy old lady, and thus, coherently understands their languages and means by which they communicate, especially about things like beating traffic:

In July in the Hamptons, the weekend obsessing begins midweek. In the city. Like on a Tuesday. Picture two yentas under dryers. One will likely say: "We have a very important event in Sag Harbor Friday." Her friend might then suggest: "So drive out Thursday." She will likely be told: "Can't. We have a very important event in Manhattan Thursday." Understand, for this species all events are very important. Hamptonite types never do unimportant events. Anyone with even a time-share east of Shinnecock for just the first two weeks of August recognizes that there exists no such thing as an unimportant event.

Yenta One will then inquire: "So what time you think we should leave to beat the traffic?"

Yenta Two: "Ohhhh, y'know, it's Friday in the summer in the city." (This gives you an insight into this person's omniscient wisdom.) "You should talk to my Max. He knows back roads. Takes a little longer and he sometimes gets a bit lost like when Lily Pond Lane crosses Three Pond Stream and cuts across Fertilizer Farm to Daffodil Pollen Path, he sometimes misses the turnoff. But there's no traffic there."

And that's a wrap. Cindy, there's an awesome gig waiting for you whenever you want to take it; everyone else, especially gossip columnists and bloggers, guess what: you're gonna have to diversify. Does Ben Leventhal want to be reporting on the city's best Early Bird Specials in his old age? Will Jessica Pressler and Chris Rovzar be recapping the Golden Gossip Girls? Will AJ Daulerio be taking notes from the press box at Polo games in the Hamptons? Let's pray, no. Still, it's good to know that the Post doesn't mind keeping a little stale air in their pocket for (literal) old time's sake. That's nice of them. In a passively sadomasochistic way.

It's A Cop-Shoot-Dog World Out There [Injustice]

Foster Kamer — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 14:10:58 -0400

The most silent victims of crime busts: dogs. Poor pups get executed by rabid cops who shoot first, bark questions last. Now, Maryland cops have to report to the governor's office whenever they kill a pooch. [Daily Beast]

Mark Sanford Bitchslaps Soulmate In Open Letter [Mea Maxima Culpa]

Aaron Coleman — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 13:45:51 -0400

In a groveling open letter, Gov. Mark Sanford calls his whole affair his "funeral," negating all the warm fuzzies his sultry Argentinian shoved-under-the-rug soulmate felt from his love letters. Those flames of love burn, baby, burn.

We'd hate to be Maria Belen Chapur about now. Her heart once swelled with pure angel-kissed amor for the *ahem* handsome American hombre. Theirs was a transcendent love detailed in Mark Sanford's by now widely read lovemails. Now, it's "wrong," a "funeral," a "misfortune," a "failure." Them's the dangers of dating Republican, Maria. They're just not that into you...once they're discovered.

So, Mark Sanford has ditched MBC to lead the righteous life of quoting scripture, fake-smiling next to his wife, and groveling in the mud for public forgiveness.

A few soundbites:

I have struggled with how best to convey my regret in letting so many down, and in that regard I realize this op-ed does not do justice to the process of saying "I am sorry."

...

It is true that I did wrong and failed at the largest of levels, but equally true is the fact that God can make good of our respective wrongs in life. In this vein, while none of us has the chance to attend our own funeral, in many ways I feel like I was at my own in the past weeks, and surprisingly I am thankful for the perspective it has afforded.

...

In this regard I think all that has transpired will be particularly relevant in the way I deal with the legislative body and other state leaders going forward. Micah 6:8 asks us to do justice, love mercy, and to walk humbly, and as I begin these steps into the last 18 months of this administration, it will indeed be with a more contrite and humble spirit.

...

Finally it is at your funeral that you in many ways not only can see most clearly the things that really matter in life, but where one gets the best glimpse of who your real friends are – and how much they matter. For that reason, I want to thank so many for their kindnesses and support over the years and for their kindness in this latest chapter in our book together as South Carolinians.

[via WCBD]

Sissies At NYT Sunday Styles Addicted To Weed Addictions, Man [Sunday Stoners]

Foster Kamer — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 13:15:50 -0400

Drug addictions and rehab trips have - as much drugs themselves - been trendy forever. But what about weed addictions? The Times' Sunday Styles' 'bout to get all High Times on us and investigate. Bongs out, bowls packed? Blaze away!

Things you didn't know before: people can get addicted to weed! For example, this lady, who came home after work, and got blazed:

Joyce, 52 and a writer in Manhattan, started smoking pot when she was 15, and for years it was a pleasant escape, a calming protective cloud. Then it became an obsession, something she needed to get through the day. She found herself hiding her addiction from her family, friends and co-workers.

"I would come home from work, close my door, have my bong, my food, my music and my dog, and I wouldn't see another person until I went to work the next day," said Joyce...

Okay, well, Joyce is 52, but that pretty much rules out anybody on any Gawker Media editorial mastheads, yet basically resembles a fairly accurate description of half the people I know, except they're too broke to have dogs. Also, that sounds like a decent routine, although one that'd get old, fast. Also:

The drug cannot lead to fatal overdose and its hazards pale in comparison with those of alcohol. But at the same time, marijuana can be up to five times more potent than the cannabis of the 1970s, according to the National Institute on Drug Abuse.

Weed's getting way better, because there's more out there, so more people are smoking it. Like the internet? No.

They even threw down on an awesome graph showing just how not-addicting marijuana is. But I knew plenty of people like Joyce in my years of rigorous academia, wherein a hot shower ran in a dorm bathroom all day to steam out the smell of marijuana, smoked traditionally before and after long lecture hall classes. These were the exploits of other people far more successful than me. I ended up here, and can't handle my shit when too stoned. I freak out and get paranoid of COPS, MAN, FUCKING COPS. Anyway, these people are what we like to call High-Functioning Stoners, whose existence the Times only hints at:

Jonathan James, has concerns about his own marijuana use. Mr. James, 50, a former choreographer, has been a regular pot smoker for 35 years. He said smoking marijuana helped inspire some of his most original ideas. But Mr. James is afraid to stop smoking, even after kicking heroin and cocaine...He said he would be more successful without pot.

"It keeps me back - from engaging in the dreams and aspirations I have," he said. "I would like to feel I don't need to take anything to feel better."

They also tell sad tales of people who've lost everything to Marijuana addiction, but the medically skeptical side of me just thinks that if it weren't pot, it'd be something else. Isn't that how addictive personalities work?

See, upon first reading the Sunday Styles seemingly investigative piece, it occurred to me that the real problem they try to get at throughout the entire thing but (typically) fail miserably at is: having a weed addiction simply isn't cool. It doesn't carry the I-Was-Out-With-People-Doing-Shit street cred of coke (recent case study: Mischa Barton going crazy) or the I-Was-Hanging-Out-With-People-You'll-Never-Be-Cool-Enough-To-Know je ne sais quoi of heroin (recent case study: the death of Dash Snow), or even the longstanding tradition of Red-Blooded American Alcoholism and Lung Cancer that comes with drinking and smokin' cigs. But weed? Puh-leese.

Then, it occured to me that that's exactly what the Times was hinting at. Weed addictions aren't cool...yet. But they're so rare and looked down upon and things nobody you've heard of or know has, the fact of the matter is that weed addictions are the new heroin addictions, and Sunday Styles was the first to crack the case. Genius.

Unfortunately, despite referencing Louis Armstrong, Bob Dylan, and "silly...movies like 'Harold and Kumar,'" no piece on marijuana addiction is complete without one substantial moment in pop culture, which they miserable failed at including. We've done the pleasure of bringing it to you.

Now: who's got greens?

Marijuana Is Gateway Drug for Two Debates [NYT]

Obama's Glad Bono Refused To Hug George Bush [Hugsnubbers]

Foster Kamer — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 11:45:21 -0400

World Savior, Futuristic Superhero, and pioneer in the field of Mononames, Bono, dished last night on a BBC show a nice little anecdote: he dodged a hug from George W. Bush, once, and Obama was there to congratulate him.

See, Bono was at the National Prayer Breakfast in 2006, which is where a bunch of world leaders (and whatever Bono is) get together to pray and have cereal and talk about how everybody wants to rule the world, and hey, isn't that the guy who sings that song? He's about to give George W. Bush a hug! Noez! Not so much, however. Bono, tricky dick that he is, sidestepped Dubya:

"There were all kinds of people in the audience," Bono recalled on Jonathan Ross' talk show. Bono admitted he didn't feel like being the recipient of a hug from a man with whom he had so many political disagreements. As the affectionate President neared, Bono tried to "dodge the hug" by jumping behind a podium. The sidestep worked, and just about nobody in the audience knew it happened - though it was all captured on camera. But - there was one sharp-eyed Senator in the bipartisan crowd who saw it all.

"When I was sitting down I was beside Sen. Obama, the star said the future President whispered to him, 'Nice work with the hug dodge.'"

Well, now you know you simply can't buy a hug from Bono no matter how many third-world countries you attempt to aid. Also, Obama likes it when you don't hug punks. Don't hug punks in front of Obama.

Finally, Bono also told a strangely satisfying story (okay, not at all "strangely") to the BBC feature The Edge punching him in the face early on in their career, which goes without saying that anybody who calls themselves Bono or The Edge should definitely be hit in the face at least once in their life, no matter how talented they are. Which is to say nothing of the "Discotheque" video.

Bono's hugs, punched face: mysterious ways, indeed.

To Obama's delight, Bono admits he sidestepped a hug from George Bush [Irish Central]

Frank Bruni Glorifies Kiddie Bulimia, Makes Our Tummy Hurt [Gluttony Today]

Aaron Coleman — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 11:20:18 -0400

In today's Times Magazine, former restaurant critic Frank Bruni vomits up a lot verbiage to describe how he'd purge his meals Roman-style in an effort to eat more, at the age of 1! Whoa, this is one bloated cover story.

Atmosphere
Bruni, with nothing left to critique, critiques his childhood menu of stuffing his face full of every food known to man, from Quiche Lorraine to Snickers to sausage pizza to lamb chops to Big Macs to bacon-wrapped chicken liver to... BLAAAAH!!!

Recommended Dishes

The way Mom told the tale, I plowed through that second burger as quickly as I had the first. Then I looked up from my highchair with lips covered in hamburger juice, a chin flecked with hamburger bun and hamburger ecstasy in my wide brown eyes. I started banging my balled little fists on the highchair's tray.

I wanted a third.

Ladies and gents, to emphasize again: He. Was. One.

On momma denying him the third:

Up came the remnants of Burger No. 2, and up came the remnants of Burger No. 1.... It became a pattern. No fourth cookie? I threw up. No midafternoon meal between lunch and dinner? Same deal.

Whine List
Less a savory meditation on the dangers of childhood obesity, the article is a tart and tangy, romanticized glorification of a disturbed kiddie psychosis, a sad personal portrait of America getting fatter by the second. He gives his distressing ode to gluttony four frickin' stars, self-indulgent in his childhood chomping. Admittedly, things perk up when he describes his college-aged secrets to being a successful bulimic: the best campus bathrooms, how to successfully purge after dinner with friends, all those savory details.

He found such a clever way to cope with his severe eating disorder:

...so many other extreme or warped weight-management regimens...took the place of bulimia as I struggled for decades to figure out how to answer my appetite without being undone by it and as I traced an unlikely route to the most implausible of destinations: professional eating.

Justify your destructive, traumatizing addictions by making them your life's profession! Hey, we've always cherished tearing other people apart for sport, so why can't we go and...

Oh, wait.

Jon Gosselin: Never Getting In Minetta Tavern On My Watch, But Can Go To Mars 2112 Any Day [Gossip Roundup]

Foster Kamer — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 10:45:12 -0400

Jon, Kate, and the Cabal of 8 hit the streets of New York and their crew's already beefing with people. Also, Robert Pattinson's a shitty tipper, 50 Cent's a shitty real estate buyer, Mischa Barton's sad and crazy. Happy Sunday!

Oh, christ. They're here: Jon and Kate's Spawn Of 8 have landed in New York City for some kind of TLC marketing event. While Jon sets up his gangsta-ass bachelor pad of Ed Hardy shirts and Malboro Reds and probably a Foosball table or something, Kate - who I genuinely feel bad for, now, if only because we're all learning exactly what kind of douchebag was hiding in that repressed manchild of a human being she was married to - was taking questions from her kids in the vein of "are we there yet" and "when will we officially be able to call our existence tortured?." Meanwhile, what the hell is TLC doing dragging them to New York for a marketing thing? Also, the midgets from TLC's midget show (not it's actual name) were there and so were some other people. Anyway, if you happen to see them above ground or below ground, I don't know, keep the kids away from the tunnels and don't let them go to Mansion with Dad. In fact, they should all probably be rounded up and kept in a glass case at Mars 2112 so we can show tourists what we think of them despite stimulating our economy: yes, we look at you, especially when your kids are screaming about getting a bottle of Vitamin Water, because we want to beat you with one. Truth. Oh, and apparently, the paparazzi and security guards surrounding this nonsense got into a fight and Jon was nowhere to be seen because he was probably trying to (unsuccessfully) get into Minetta Tavern. Sorry, man, but it ain't happening. [People and People]
Robert Pattinson's sucking the blood out of New York's service industry: he's a shitty, shitty tipper. He closed the place out and went just short of 15%; kid, you've got a lot of learning to do. Everyone in this town tips 20 or gives blow jobs to make up for it. Amirite? Anyone? Well, it's how I learned the hard way. [Celebrity Spy]
White rapper Asher Roth was called out by fans after telling a crowd of celebrities (including Stephanie Pratt, "celebrity") that he'd just graduated from Cornell. They all toasted him and his fans were like, dude, you went to some shitty junior college and he went into his next song. Ha. White rappers are silly. [NYP]
David Arquette apologized for calling Latin women "nuts;" this sounds silly, but really, takes one to know one, right? As far as being crazy goes, however, David has no experience in that. Am I suggesting he's secretly a Latin woman? Yes. Yes I am. [US]
Gangsta-ass Lindsay Lohan is getting back at her stalkerazzi with a squirt gun. I used to do this to my overzealous cats. I'd pretend they'd be trying to take pictures of me and I'd be like, NO, BACK OFF and squirt them and run in heels. More fun than it sounds, especially when you have a New York-sized apartment and too much vodka lying around. [PITNB]
A billionaire whose kid is in NYC Prep is mortified at the behavior of his kids, but secretly thinks Richard's recaps are the BEST THING EV-AR. Maybe? [Page Six]
Other terrible item: Michael Jackson was apparently kicked really hard in the balls by Joe Jackson at one point, so much so that he was unable to reproduce later in life. Basically, Joe Jackson is the worst human being ever, or something. Question: would we have Michael Jackson if Joe didn't abuse him? Answer: no. [WWTDD]
Latest victim of the housing crisis: 50 Cent. Our friend Fitty neglected to ask "21 Questions" about how much his 19 bedroom, 37 bathroom Hartford house was going to be worth a few years after he bought it, but he just had to cut the price down from $14.5M to $10M. He says he's tired of the commute into New York - heh - and wants to downsize. But Fitty! Where will you take a shit when you're home now that you will not have a bathroom every two feet? This is dangerous business, we're talkin'. Oh, also, the house used to be owned by Mike Tyson, so, not that it's cursed, or anything. [NYP]
Remember Limp Bizkit, the band that defined a generation of high school freshman for life? Frontman Fred Durst got married, and then played a reunion concert in Vegas last night for the first time in nine years. Somewhere, someone in a Von Dutch hat is screaming about his rain dance working. [People]
Sigh. This is genuinely sad: Mischa Barton's on suicide watch after being institutionalized by friends after a three day coke binge. She was going nuts and going to kill herself. On a separate note, I think when the producers of The O.C. killed Marissa Cooper, they killed a part of Mischa Barton. If you watched the show all the way through to the end of the third season, you would understand this. Not that I did. Just sayin'. Get better, Coop. [NYP]
Ha, yeah: that "salt solution" Octomom-Lady's kid was taken to the hospital for in yesterday's roundup? It was from one of those "make your own volcano" kits. Which, like, what was a two year old doing around that? Then again, it's nice to see she's got high standards for them. Anyway. Public opinion still has her going in a volcano, so, yeah, maybe she's just starting her own intelligence agency and research arm made up of her children. Nice. [Daily News]
Aw, shit: French President (say it with me) SAHER-KOZE-EE! went running in Central Park and even his bodyguards are great looking. Anyway, he stopped to say hello to admirers who let him know how much they'd like to do his wife. He smiled and said thank you and I know, isn't she great? [Daily News]
Ultimate Blind Item: Rush and Malloy's big 'scoop 'o the week is a callgirl who says she's got yet another fuckhead-y governor who took her out on three hot dates. Who is it?! As a proud former citizen of the great state of Nevada, I'd like to nominate wackadoo asshole Jim Gibbons. Jim, I'm rooting for you. Anybody else? Oh, also in hooker trivia, Bernie Madoff apparently paid Spitzer's madam's girls to give him back rubs. Just back rubs. Evil's so weird. [R & M]

San Francisco MUNI Crashes, Several Injured, World Maybe Ending [Accidents]

Foster Kamer — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 20:50:28 -0400

Jesus. Two San Francisco MUNI light rail trains collided earlier this afternoon; officials are counting over 44 to 60 injured.

It doesn't look too bad; there don't appear to be any fatal injuries. People are reporting different stories about the train's conductor, which some said were waving his hands (as if he had no control over the car), the other noting that he was slumped over. Authorities have yet to comment.

The accident occurred just before 3 p.m. Sunday afternoon when a westbound Metro line-L Taraval train slammed into the back of a Metro line-KT Ingleside/Third Street train that was stopped in the station. The front of the L car was totally smashed in, the car itself bent and its windshield shattered from the impact.

This is the third trainwreck in less than a month on fairly famous lines, one which happened in front of a bunch of families and children at Walt Disney World on the Monorail, killing an employee, the other at the DC Metro which killed nine people. There's the idiom about bad things coming in threes; hopefully, this'll be the last trainwreck we see for a while. Then again, three train crashes in a month? Really? In the recent (trainwreck of a) Nicolas Cage movie, Knowing, there's a subway crash and soon thereafter the world ends. But only one subway crash. Three: you think we're being told something?

Dozens Injured In MUNI Crash [KCBS]

NYT's Error-Prone Alessandra Stanley's Splashy Return To (Bad) Form With Cronkite Death [Stanley-watch]

Foster Kamer — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 19:45:00 -0400

Oh, Alessandra Stanley. As far as newspaper idols go, you're my dreamboat. I loved your shoot-first, fact-check-over-the-dead-body-last approach to writing, but then you stopped doing it. But coming back to old-school-you over Walter Cronkite's appraisal? You're the prodigal-daughter of error.

And the Times isn't happy about the three errors you made, either. Especially since today was Walter Cronkite Day, and you know, journalism's kinda fucked and all. Better pay fellas like him the res-pekt they deserve, yeah? Well, "peep" the correction, emphasis mine:

An earlier version of this article incorrectly referred to a news organization for which Walter Cronkite worked. At the time, it was called United Press, not United Press International. The earlier version also misstated the date of the first moon landing; it was July 20, 1969, not July 26. And it misspelled Telstar.

Wow. They even started a sentence with a conjunction, which is akin to being slapped with something silly, like a squeak toy. Anyway: Stanley-Watch has [sic] returnxed! Good to have you back for the first time, babes.

Cronkite's Signature: Approachable Authority [NYT]

Update: Oh, wow. NYTPicker points out three more errors-one about the broadcasting team Cronkite did-or didn't-work with, one about Cronkite's first words when Neil Armstrong walked on the moon-they actually just landed in the lunar module-and one about his ratings. They also corrected a spelling mistake in my headline. Error terror begets error! According to them, this brings her into a 10 error-year, slightly under the 50 error-year they'd predicted. Is there somewhere we can place a wager on this kind of thing?

Don't Rain On Cronkite's Parade, Old Man! [Too Soon?]

Aaron Coleman — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 19:00:44 -0400

The World's Oldest Man died at age 113 today in what we hope is not a publicity stunt to steal Walter Cronkite's thunder. His secret to longevity? Tons of smoking, boozing and sexing up the ladies. They all say that!

Seriously, this story of Brit Henry Allingham squeezed a wee bit of a tear out of our jaded eyes. It's not everyday you meet someone born during the reign of Queen Victoria and who remembers an era of horse drawn carriages and no electricity. No more feeling ancient because you remember the days before computers! Pshaw!

Having fought in the trenches of World War I, Allingham dedicated his life to reminding increasingly younger generations about the terrible toll of war. Surviving that, he went on to experience that glorious pageant called the 20th Century, working for then budding company Ford and amassing a whopping 14 great-great grandkiddies and one great-great-great-grandkiddy. Whew!

Whenever an internationally famous legend passes on, a little person passes, too. It's Saturday night. In honor of the world's former oldest man, we're off to some smoking, boozing and sexing of our own.

· World's Oldest Man Dies (nypost.com)

CEO Finally Free Of His Sex-Crazed Swedish Countess Divorcée To The Tune Of $50 Million [The Worst Is Over]

Foster Kamer — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 18:45:15 -0400

There's an old joke about the difference between prostitution and sex being that you're paying someone to go away in the morning. That said, if you're married to Swedish countess Marie Douglas-David, it officially costs $50M to kick her out.

The New York Post put together a wonderful little scorecard (below) on the divorce between Douglas-David and billionaire George David, which is finally drawn to an armistice. It's been a long drawn-out War of the Roses involving his accusations of her trying to force him into having way too much sex, and her costing upwards of $53K a week just to survive on the mean streets of the Upper East Side. She originally wanted $100 Million, but he wasn't giving in, instead only setting her up to live with around $30M in stock. But the best is the comical courthouse reaction of CEO David, who just paid $50M for her to GTFO and shut the coffee maker off on her way, please:

"I'm happy. I'm happy as can be!" the mogul crowed moments before signing a settlement in which he gives his former bride $42 million under their original postnup, plus $6.5 million in cash and the forgiveness of a $1.5 million tax debt she owed him. "It's a beautiful day out there," David said, smiling, when asked the reason for his happiness. "I got a great boat race tomorrow around Martha's Vineyard."

Asked if he'd marry again, he demurred, "Well, I don't know."

Please, of course our boat-racing fiend (a sexually passive act if there's ever been one, yeah?) is getting married again. If this floozy only cost a dirty $50mil to kick to the curb, surely he can go further upmarket for a bromide-addicted Nordic duchess or something? They make those too, I hear. Don't we have a Baroness we can take a cut from around here? As for the fate of the besieged bride-no-more:

"I'm just very relieved it's over," her highness said as she left court, single once more. "We're very happy we could get this over with and settle it." She isn't saying if she'll find another place in Manhattan or go back to Sweden, where she no longer has rights to a stunning $16 million seaside Stockholm penthouse she'd fought furiously to get her hands on. It's the ex-groom's now, free and clear.

"Stockholm's a beautiful town," he teased. "I'm sure I'll be back there. They've got some nice boat races there, too."

Boat races? What's with you people and the fucking boat races? Oh, christ. You guys were made for each other. I give it six months and she's back to raping him in no time. Don't forget to turn the lights off on the way in, and bring back some of that lingonberry shit when you return, yeah? Great.

CASH COUNTESS [NYP]

God and Satan Square Off As Episcopal Church Blesses Gay Unions [Evolution Of God]

Aaron Coleman — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 17:30:34 -0400

Episcopalians may implode on themselves in bloody civil war. As the only religion to step into the 21st Century, the U.S. Episcopal Church has declared Hell Yes to blessing same-sex unions. The global church is a-gonna raise hell.

Don't rush out to buy your wedding bands yet. Even though the resolution passed at yesterday's triennial national convention, it still has to be mulled over further at the church's next general conference-in three frickin' years! Sounds quicker than Obama's molasses movement on DADT.

Limitations: the civil unions will only be recognized in states that currently allow them. Also, the church is strictly keeping its definition of marriage between "male and female." Nonetheless, as the only Christian denomination to ordain an open gay bishop, Gene Robinson, the American Episcopal Church once again proves itself the forerunner in contemporary religion, being the first to pull their head out of their ass to recognize society changes, and religious culture should, too.

As for the global Episcopal community, most of whom waged war when Robinson was ordained, they're certain to unleash the fire and brimstone. Hell hath no fury than fanatics facing the clock of progress.

Fight Club-Inspired 17 Year-Old Starbucks Bomber Suckerpunched In Jail [Jailhouse Cold-clocked]

Foster Kamer — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 17:15:34 -0400

Cops busted the teenage punk behind a Fight Club-aping Upper East Side Starbucks bombing that was like a bad issue of Adbusters come to life. Well, happy endings: he got what he wanted in prison: punched. Also, Starbucks and booze?

17 year-old Kyle Shaw bragged to his friends about detonating a device that took out a few windows and some benches at said UES Starbucks in lieu of beginning some sort of Project Mayhem, a terrorist group depicted in Fight Club. The cops busted him, he got taken to the hoosgow, and sent home to house arrest on a $100,000 bail. But not before someone tried to see how legit he was about this whole Fight Club thing. In essence: the kid got socked.

The 17-year-old said he was using a jailhouse phone when a fellow inmate asked if he was in "the program" — a real-life "Fight Club" at Rikers.

The menacing query was quickly followed by a punch to the teen's face.

Emphasis mine. It's not reported whether or not said punch was retribution for violating the First Two Rules of Fight Club, but neither was the punch, apparently: as of his showing up to court, he hadn't reported the punch to authorities, so maybe he learned the first two rules!

Then again, it could've been an overzealous Starbucks employee jacked up on the sauce! They might start serving it in locations around the country, and they're testing out the new program in Seattle next week.

Starbucks is trying to brew up new business by offering bottled beer and glasses of wine at one of its Seattle stores next week — with a view toward expanding its version of European-style coffeehouses to other cities. The 16,000-store chain hopes to offer a more traditional coffeehouse, with live music and poetry readings and espresso made from a manual machine rather than an automated one. It would also offer bottled beer and glasses of wine for $4 to $7.

Maybe he was a lab rat? It's a long-shot (read: zero possibility, though, we wish) but either way, the kid doesn't have to worry about the legacy of Project Mayhem moving forward. If Starbucks ends up with their diabolical plan to infect America with booze-shilling, live-performance-having, European-esque coffeehouses that can spice up a Frappichino to go with that open mic, Mayhem will run awesomely, absolutely wild.

COFFEE MORON'S JAILHOUSE SHINER [NYP]

A CHAIN OF 'BAR' BUCKS [NYP]

The Week In Orgies: Oprah's Sex Cruise & Eyes Wide Shut LIVE [Everybody's Doing It]

Aaron Coleman — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 16:30:43 -0400

The owner of a British manor house is stunned when recent renters host a masked ball that turns orgiastic, and Oprah's gala cruise for her staff turns into floating bathhouse. Ah, the summer of love...

If the British are reserved, they let that repressed sexual tension out recently at an estate in Somerset. Halswell House owner Graham Bond rented out the property to a group of ritzy revelers for a masked ball. At the stroke of midnight, the 350 guests dropped their cloaks to reveal nuttin' but leather pants, corsets, suspenders and what God gave 'em. The sex 'twixt these Cinderellas and Cinderfellas so shocked Bond, he sent his staff home and called the cops, who told him to bugger off since it was a private party between consenting adults. Mr. Bond — what a prude! [Telegraph]

Oh, Oprah! All she wanted to do was show her staff a lil' appreciation by treating them to a $10 million dollar cruise through the Mediterranean. According to the revved-up rumor mill, they took it and ran, turning the vacay into something out of Penthouse Forum. There's the dude found passed out buck naked on a couch near the ship's nightclub. Then there was the randy fella who missed the boat's Athens departure thanks to onshore nookie. Finally, two couples were caught making babies on deck. And the big O? She was off cavorting with galpal Gayle. But we won't add any more rumors about those two. [National Enquirer]

How Did The President, Famous People, New Media React To Cronkite's Death? [Remembrances]

Foster Kamer — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 15:45:55 -0400

Roundups of Cronkite-death reactions are bound to include the President's personal memories, and Dan Abrams trashing personal memories. Also, Shaq's sword, Clooney's sad, Jeff Jarvis is so over this, Sarah Palin's rainbows, and Kelly Bundy has something to say.

Because Important People Deaths carry more weight than ol' lowercase regular people deaths, they can either elicit well-considered, clear-minded objectivity, or they can inspire transparent glibness, insipid tributes, and reactionary nonsense. Writing about Cronkite's death online is meta (man...), because his death apparently signifies the end of old-media (or something). Did his professional decedents and famous people respond accordingly? Well...

George Clooney wants to die. Clooney - who's old man was a newsman, and the inspiration to tell Edward Murrow's story in Good Night and Good Luck - doesn't want to exist in a world without Cronkite. Really.

"He was the most important voice in our lives for thirty years," the Oscar winner, who delved into the history of the CBS newsroom when he directed and costarred in Good Night and Good Luck, said in a statement Friday night. "And that voice made people reach for the stars. I hate the world without Walter Cronkite. "

Between this and his pet pig dying, it's been a shit year for him. You know who else is sad? Christina Applegate. Bet you weren't ready for this: ready for this:

Elsewhere, Shaq took a picture of himself with a sword, Perez Hilton appears to have not totally fucked something up, and John Mayer hit himself in the balls.

President Obama got right down to business:

"For decades, Walter Cronkite was the most trusted voice in America. His rich baritone reached millions of living rooms every night, and in an industry of icons, Walter set the standard by which all others have been judged. He was there through wars and riots, marches and milestones, calmly telling us what we needed to know. And through it all, he never lost the integrity he gained growing up in the heartland.

But Walter was always more than just an anchor. He was someone we could trust to guide us through the most important issues of the day; a voice of certainty in an uncertain world. He was family. He invited us to believe in him, and he never let us down. This country has lost an icon and a dear friend, and he will be truly missed."

As far as media personae go, let's start with former MSNBC anchor Dan Abrams (of course), only because David Carr is somewhere in Bogota eating Arepas and has nothing to Tweet about Cronkite so far.

Abrams, whose new ~~media consulting business arm~~ media website ranks media personae against each other when they're not trying to kick sand at other outlets or mourning the breakup of gay penguins. Well, for one thing, poor Cronkite wasn't even awesome enough to make the list of 214 TV/News anchors in the first place. Sad. Abrams' website more than made up for it, though, with six different posts on the matter, each one more Google-happy than the next. The King Shit, however, takes a shit on all the media coverage of Cronkite, including that of his own site's:

...every major journalist is now vying to be part of the Cronkite coverage (including, I suppose, this one). No question so many grew up watching Cronkite's masterful work over the years - from war zones to the White House. And those who knew him well have offered moving tributes to Cronkite the man. But showing one's respect for Walter Cronkite also means paying homage to what the Cronkite name has come to represent –a time when it would have been unthinkable to cover Michael Jackson's death day after day....Even in reporting on his death many journalists have violated one of Cronkite's basic tenets: report the news don't become it. How many times this weekend have we heard top journalists memorializing Cronkite with sentences beginning with the word I. "I met Cronkite in. . ." or "I remember seeing him. . ."...

Having reported on many of the most notorious trials of the past two decades (including that of Michael Jackson) I have no claim to Cronkiteian journalistic purity. The same applies, however, to some of my colleagues now attempting to tether themselves to Cronkite's legacy.

Nothing better than a little self-flagellation to relieve the symbolic pain of a symbolic death now, is there? Meanwhile, friend of this site Peter Feld - who's done a few political liveblogs, here - just went live with a column on Mediaite...about personal memories of Cronkite.

Tina Brown's Daily Beast went with only three articles, including a pretty solid video tribute.

Another self-proclaimed Media Expert, Jeff Jarvis, couldn't have hidden his glee any worse:

And while our boss was being letting the company strategy out of the bag, and our night editor was coming up with conspiracy theories, Sarah Palin didn't have anything to say about Cronkite, instead, going for some nonsense about there not being rain without rainbows.

There's no greater point about Cronkite to be made here so much as a point about the immediacy and speed with which we react to the death of someone we consider to be important, and the natural de-evolution of that importance by the moment. But you'll often be surprised by who takes expediency in these matters, and maybe that, too, is the salient point: an Important Death can often bring out the more surprising, unforeseeable reactions you wouldn't expect. Like the New York Times taking Cronkite from above the fold:

While Drudge keeps him up:

Then again, maybe Drudge just - like the rest of us - enjoys a famous dead person. So it goes.

Susan Boyle's Campaign to Win Next Year's Razzie [VideUhOh]

Aaron Coleman — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 15:30:14 -0400

Eking out a 16th minute, housefrump-turned-household-name Susan Boyle sits with Today to voice soundbits with all the enthusiasm of a funeral director. Once more, with feeling, Suze! And Cowell, send her to Lee Strasberg, stat!

After perky Meredith Vieira struggles to give the debatable superstar a compliment, stumbling over words to question if she's had a "slight little makeover?", Suze, perhaps insulted, forces a smile.

"Just a slight one," she responds with usual British irony. Because, really, in comparison to the old maid who formerly only warbled to her kitty cats, you know the New Improved Miss Boyle's a-feeling like Heidi Klum these days. When asked if she's having a good time, Suze grimaces, and forces out "I'm having a wonderful time" and "I don't want it to end" as if ramming a nail in her hand.

We know all this is "new" to the humble country virgin, and she's supposedly "overwhelmed," but we can't help thinking that puppet master Simon ~~Legree~~ Cowell is there in the background whipping this poor lass out into the spotlight, else he must eat crow. Next up, a spread in Harper's Bazaar! The strong arm of the press machine keeps on churning...

Full interview airs on NBC July 22.

"No, what I said was, 'I want you to THROW your hotdog down my HALLWAY.'" [Open Caption]

Foster Kamer — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 14:15:44 -0400

[One of the famed Oscar Meyer Weinermobiles crashed into a Mount Pleasant, Wisconson house yesterday evening after losing control. Nobody was home or injured. Report via AP. Caption via pubb13.]

"Hey, Little Jim, Tiny Sally: Get Your Brains Blown Out In Iraq" [Deathmerchants 'R' Us]

Aaron Coleman — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 14:00:09 -0400

Fresh after this week's sobering slideshow of our troops in the Middle East, Matchbox toys comes out with an oddball ad campaign to spark kids' war fantasies of returning home draped in the American flag.

Mattel Asia Pacific is the genius behind these images, obviously an attempt to show the oh-so-realness of their war toys. Ya think mom and dad might prefer to see pics of junior pushing toy tanks in the backyard sandbox, rather than looking scared shitless while surrounded by rebels in Basra?

Images via copyranter.

"Will you let me live if I mow your lawn?"
"Mommy, please help me land this..."
Little Kailee wistfully ponders her crush on Nick Jonas moments before the snipers attack.

Meghan McCain Won't Share Ticket With 'Dumbass' Joe The Plumber [Flackery]

Foster Kamer — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 13:30:01 -0400

Setting an example for children of royalty, everywhere, Megan McCain wants people to know that the help should stick to being the help after explaining what depths Joe The Plumber should intellectually excavate next. Hint: It's near his plumber's crack.

McCain's making publicity rounds again, in some kind of incredible quadruple-floop-reverse-psychology media strategy that falls somewhere between the minds of Willy Wonka and Crispin, Porter +Bogusky. It involves her going to liberal media outlets and talking smack on the Republican Party, appearing to piss off Daddy, and burying the lede (that she's, like, so the future of the Republican Party). This time, she totes kicked it with her Geigh Friends at Out, and had this to say about the McCain/Palin campaign's breathing version of the Sickle and Hammer, political casualty Joe The Plumber:

"Joe the Plumber — you can quote me — is a dumbass. He should stick to plumbing,"

Know your place, silly prole mascot! You excavated shit for a living before you ruined her shot at awesomeness and that's all you're ever going to do now that she can't Roll With Her Homies in DC. Meanwhile, she also told Out that, besides advocating the legalization of gay marriage, she'd "be flattered to be considered the anti-Ann Coulter, the anti-Rush Limbaugh," and managed to completely avoid discussing Sarah Palin. Nice. She also supposedly got Rush Limbaugh to tell her to go Arlen Specter and just peace out on the Republicans, which Dad's definitely going to love.

Meanwhile, she continues to add editorial luster to The Daily Beast by coming down on Young Republicans election of a racist to their leadership post, is advising young people to fuck cowboys (and not horses), and is not preggers/did not see Tupac get shot, and is currently getting trashed on DayQuil as I write this.

There's quite simply nothing to be said or done that could adequately express how utterly confounding, impressive, and awe-inspiring Meghan McCain's media strategy is. She's the Lady Gaga of political nobodies; it's like Dash Snow died, and she stepped in. Every publicist in the world should be taking notes, as this is how you defy expectations: subversively call everyone on their bluff and wait for them to keep thinking you're full of shit before the joke becomes an Andy Kaufman-esque reality.

Or just extend teenage belligerence into some kind of professional career. Either way, genius.

Meghan McCain Will Be Heard [Out]

Tom Cruise Defies The Gravity Of Katie Holmes And Their Destiny Child [Gossip Roundup]

Foster Kamer — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 12:30:01 -0400

Where Tom Cruise and Beyonce meet in the middle. Where Jennifer Anniston terrifies West Villagers with her half-speed biological clock. Where Jon Gosselin's girlfriend terrifies virginal high school boys. Where Andy's Dick's Little One speaks. Your Saturday Late-Edition Gossip Roundup:

Tom Cruise busted a move to Beyonce's "All The Single Ladies" when he saw her at her Staples Center concert in L.A. Poor Katie Holmes. This is the exact, precise, scientifically measured middle-ground between a touchdown dance and waving the rights to someone's soul in their face. Still, it's not nearly as bad as when he dresses the kids up and does "Defy Gravity" with them as the flying monkeys and him as Elpheba and makes her play the role of Steven Schwartz and scream at him from the audience, but still: pretty mean, you know? It's the wizard who should be afraid. Of me. [NY Daily News]
Speaking of gay tragedies, two stagehands died in a stage collapse at a Madonna concert, and French police are launching an investigation into it. She paid tribute to them in concert: ""You may have heard of it... When they were building my show in Marseille, where we're going next - we don't know why, but one of the cranes fell... Two men lost their lives, it was a great tragedy to me." [Daily Express]
And speaking of just straight-up tragedy, Hollywood producers are still total assmunches-yes, assmunches. There's no better word to describe the one behind Mischa Barton's newest film, as he's pissed that she went insane and had to be placed in the crazy house and is taking his frustration to the press. Honestly, dude, talk about loose marbles, you were the one who thought she was still bankable, first of all. Second of all, you're a dick. [NY Daily News]
Jennifer Anniston's new movie that she's filming with Gerard Butler is pissing off New Yorkers left and right. First, she annoyed Daily News staffers by getting in the way of them pissing. Now, she's getting in the way of West Village residents by getting in the way of their dogs pissing. The production manager on the movie is apparently a total meanie, and she won't return the calls of the sad West Village residents who don't like noise and things on their nice block because they paid a few milli to live there, you know? On that note, I hope someone pours Birdbath coffee in their ears or something silly because if I lived in the West Village I would basically be deaf to everything but the schadenfreude of broke muh's like me, which I would record and consequently play back at half-speed and remix it with, I don't know, Thievery Corporation or something and play it at my parties where I serve fried chicken canapes in my garden and bitch about how Design Within Reach is out of reach of poor people but too in-reach of me, which makes it basically the silliest design store ever, and who buys chairs in America anyway, really? Also, Jennifer Aniston is still painfully single and I still think "Daughters" is the best song ev-ar. [Page Six]
Jon Gosselin's new girlfriend was just a Drunkie McPlastered in high school: ""I remember on a school trip once, she got completely wasted," a source notes to E!. Okay, first: a source? Glad to know someone from E! is meeting in the basement of an Omaha parking lot or whatever and looking over their shoulder before being like, okay, tell me exactly how much of a floozie this chick was in high school, I promise: you will be protected. Also, you know she was that girl on the school trip who busted out the booze to the Mormon kids and taught them what Seven Minutes In Heaven was. SWOON. [E!]
JoJo Simmons-son of Rev. Run of Run D.M.C.-got a very small punishment for his pot bust and resisting arrest charges. When you're the son of a celebrity, it's like that. Don't ask me, because I don't know why. But that's the way it is. [NY Daily News]
The Hills' Lauren Conrad is deflating the fun behind Heidi Pratt's inflated assets to Playboy in an upcoming issue, noting that they're "not going to pay for themselves." No, Lauren, they certainly won't, especially if people are reading Playboy for the articles. Which, uh, everyone does, right? Also, plenty more smacktalk where that came from. "I don't call magazines and let them know about things so they can write stories." OHHH SNAP. STORIES, YO! Also, Conrad wore a burnette wig as a "social experiment," which is kind of like the Stanford Prison Experiment, but different, because it's a prison of the mind, man. [NY Daily News and E!]
The "Octomom" LadyThing had to take one of her 19 spawn to the hospital yesterday because he drank some kind of "salt based solution." [TMZ]
Cameron Diaz is convinced she has protective angels following her every move. What she doesn't understand is that agents' assistants actually get overtime and can expense jetpacks for this kind of thing. [Daily Express]
Michael Jackson's death is again a breaking point, this time for his sister, Janet, and her mans, Jermaine Dupri, who have now separated following Michael's death. I would write something funny here but I'm already sad for Jermaine Dupri because I feel like people forget just how awesome the "Money Ain't A Thing" video-Dupri's magnum opus-was. Also, now that he's no longer with Jackson, Money Will Most Definitely Be A Thing. [NY Daily News]
Really sad: Alan Ball watched his sister get killed in a car crash when he was younger, which basically explains all five seasons of Six Feet Under, and gives the first episode-where the family's patriarch is killed in a car crash on Christmas-entirely new dimensions. [Daily Express]
Andy Dick's son, Lucas, is far funnier than his Dad. Especially when he's slagging on him, like he did to his face at Caroline's the other night: "I'll come home to find a big party at our house and my father will be rolling around naked in ketchup on the floor, and I'll think, 'Oh yeah, it's Tuesday.'" There's an entire David Sedaris-esque career to be had, here, because this is both sad, hysterical, doesn't sound the least be true, and yet, more than likely is. We'll be watching you, Little Dick. [Page Six]

Pepsi on Jackson's Hairfire: Whatevs and 'Refresh Everything' [Disasters]

Aaron Coleman — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 12:00:00 -0400

If they only had a heart. Upon seeing this week's spine-tingling video of Michael Jackson's '84 Pepsi ad accident, Pepsi and vid director Bob Giraldi don't give a shit. The international moment of dead pop star respect is officially finito.

Honestly, no one's given a shit in the past 25 years. Yet as always, with mondo-stratospheric celeb death comes a whole stadium full of dusty grievances. With the fire vid now shocking the internets, the fire safety inspector at the shoot, Captain Don Donester ("DON DONester" - what clever parents he had!) blames director Giraldi for making Jackson stand under the sparks longer so the popstar would "look more majestic."

C'mon, admit it. The moonwalk with one's hair in flames? Chilling, yes. But it does look pretty Olympian.

TMZ called up Giraldi for a response. He said, "That's not true. Whatever." Click. Dial tone. Wow, what a prick!

In true canned spokespersonspeak, Pepsi's response was also a hair toss and shoulder shrug.

We don't know what that footage is. It's 25 years ago. We don't know who owns it, so we have no recourse as far as I know. I can only tell you what I know. We didn't put it up and we don't know where it came from.

Guess they're bitter their latest slogan, "Refresh Everything," hasn't registered with anyone anywhere nohow.

In Rare Burst Of Sanity, Pope Now Lovin' Evil Gay Oscar Wilde And Evil Wizard Harry Potter [Spiritual Awakenings]

Aaron Coleman — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 10:15:09 -0400

Feeling sprightly after recovering from wrist surgery yesterday, Pope Benedict the &!# gives that corrupter of innocence Harry Potter and flagrant 'mosexual Oscar Wilde the thumbs up. It's another loony episode of "That's Our Benny!"

Having suffered a fall in a room of his meek and humble Alpine vacation chalet, the pontiff underwent a 20-minute operation on his right wrist to heal a fracture. Hilarious bit ensued as surgeons did not see the stigmata that Benny saw on his own hand. Apparently, pappy goosestepped out of the hospital all smiles. Maybe it was the morphine. Uproarious canned laughter as deadpan, dry-humored nurse quipped, "It should have been Diprivan."

Presumably born again after such trauma, the 82-year-old Benny was in an unusually generous mood. His Hoary Holiness, who once condemned the Harry Potter series for its "subtle seductions...that have a deep effect and corrupt the Christian faith even before it could properly grow," has now been enchanted by the magic wand of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Score one for the wizard.

The Vatican newspaper L'Osservatore Romano (the official papal rants and raves board) said this week that the new blockbuster drew

a clear line of demarcation between good and evil, making clear that good is right, and that in some cases this involves hard work and sacrifices.

The article goes on the praise the film's lovely treatment of teenage romance. Awww...it's just like when the Grinch grew a teeny-tiny smidgen of a heart!

Shocking papal plaudits don't stop there. The Vatican, which calls simple same-sex lovin' "a deviation, an irregularity, a wound" and "a destruction of God's work," can nonetheless get tickled by classic gay bitchiness. That same Vatican newsrag now loves that faaaaabulous flamer Oscar Wilde, claiming him a true convert to the joys of Catholic cultism merely because he had a priest at his deathbed! Are we sure it wasn't in his bed?

The newspaper says Wilde was more than "an aesthete and a lover of the ephemeral" ("Ephemeral?" Is that code for late 19th-century E?), but "one of the personalities of the 19th century who most lucidly analyzed the modern world in its disturbing as well as its positive aspects." Again, awww...

Of course, the Vatican's article makes a choice Wilde quote, "the things one feels absolutely certain about are never true." Just like a mother in deep denial as her son dances about the kitchen to "Everything's Coming Up Roses."

Of course, all this could be retracted once Benny's happy-happy-joy-joy morphine wears off and he actually reads his official paper.

Deleting is Publishing, And Amazon Never Removed 1984 From Your Kindle [Books]

Ryan Tate — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 22:05:01 -0400

Is Amazon.com just trying to be creepy? It's already headed by a "chuckling maniac" being sued over defective Kindles and swindling newspapers on the e-book reader. Now his company is quietly deleting people's Kindle books. It's Orwellian. Literally.

A publisher changed its mind about selling George Orwell's 1984 and Animal Farm electronically. So Amazon agreed to just go ahead and remotely delete bought and paid for e-copies of the books from people's Kindles.

Owners got refunds, but many were still not happy. Which makes sense; your local bookstore isn't allowed to sneak into your house in the middle of the night, take your books back and leave you a check. If Amazon wants to make the Kindle an iPhone for books, it's well advised to get a bit obsessive about controlling the user experience on the device, as Apple would. But this is taking things too far.

Walter Cronkite Dead at 92 [And Now He's Dead]

Ryan Tate — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 20:49:37 -0400

Walter Cronkite, the longtime CBS News journalist and trusted anchorman, has passed away, his family said. He was 92.

Cronkite was an icon of the self-consciously dignified style of journalism that dominated throughout his years in the anchor chair. It is, in a way, appropriate that his departure comes as the school of news delivery he represented — responsible, sonorous, self-important — is on its way out.

Cronkite has been rumored to be near death for a month now, after he fell "gravely ill." In late June, his family said he had cerebrovascular disease and was not expected to recover. CBS broke the news of Cronkite's death with a special report tonight.

Cronkite anchored the CBS Evening News from 1962 to 1981, ending each broadcast with his signature sign-off, "And that's the way it is." Following his consistently strong showing in viewer opinion polls, Cronkite became known as "the most trusted man in America."

Cronkite was perhaps best remembered for his reporting on the 1963 assassination of John F. Kennedy, which "helped pull together a nation stricken with grief and was a signal event in television's evolution into the national nervous system," in the words of Times columnist Tom Wicker.

Cronkite also helped turn the tide of public opinion against the Vietnam War when, at the close of a February 1968 broadcast focused on North Vietnam's Tet offensive, he concluded that America probably could not win the war:

It seems now more certain than ever that the bloody experience of Vietnam is to end in a stalemate.

Cronkite was eventually pushed out of the anchor chair in 1981 by Dan Rather, leading to a long-simmering grudge; when Rather himself was pushed out as CBS Evening News anchor in 2005, Cronkite said he should have been replaced years earlier. Rather "was perennially in third place," Cronkite said at the time.

Cronkite grew up in Missouri and Texas. He dropped out of college to pursue a career in journalism; he was discovered by Edward R. Murrow while working in radio and brought by Murrow to CBS.

Cronkite leaves behind a journalism school in his name at Arizona State University, with which he became closely involved. He is survived by two daughters, a son and four grandsons.

We encourage you to post remembrances, video or otherwise, in the comments below.

Elsewhere:

Do These Men Deserve to Be the Highest Paid Comedians? [Sad Things]

Natasha VC — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 18:46:21 -0400

Do you feel that? Those are George Carlin's acid tears falling from heaven. There are some mainstays on the millionaire funny-man list. But there is one depressing shocker. Can you guess who?

Forbes put out their list of the 10 richest comedians based on their concert ticket sales, movie deals, and DVD sales.

1. Jerry Seinfeld $85 million between June 2008 and June 2009. He also filmed this commercial. Laugh it up, America!

2. Chris Rock whose worldwide 'No Apologies Tour' contributed to his $42 million bounty. Chris is a funny man and we should continue to give him our money.

3. Ventriloquist Jeff Dunham banked an estimated $30 million over the course of the year. Wait, who?!

4. Dane Cook is the friend that nobody likes. The friend with $20 million dollars.

5. George Lopez. $20 million. Holler back Canoga Park!

6. Howie Mandel. Aw, I have a soft spot for Bobby's World.

7. Larry the Cable Guy made $13million dollars last year. This clip about sums it up.

8. You might be a redneck if you only make $11 million dollars, Jeff Foxworthy.

Ok! Did you guess who? Did you say Dane Cook? I hope you did cause he's the ambassador of TERRIBLE.

The Week We Continued Worrying and Didn't Learn to Love Megan Fox [Week In Review]

Pareene — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 18:41:46 -0400

This week, junior mogul Jared Kushner found love, no one found work, and a teleprompter and a local artist died.

Sarah Palin quit her job because she was not very good at it. She is also not very good at writing editorials.
Jared Kushner fired everyone from their jobs, and then he proposed to a Trump.
Hey, our hypsersexualised, moronic future is here.
Matt Drudge likes weird local news, and Politico.
Obama's teleprompter broke, and despite that he was able to speak real words, in English and everything! But he still throws like a girl.
Dash Snow died. And then he became an icon.
Yahoo's CEO went on a vacation and demanded that everyone else, who didn't go on vacation, work extra hard while she was gone.
Oh, boy, a book about how terrible Lizzie Grubman is, by her old assistant! Is it our BIRTHDAY?
Debbie Rowe is having a little war with our own New York Post.
Well, now we have finally seen Michael Jackson's head catch on fire.
Hey, health care reform. That is a thing that might happen, someday! Or it might just die, like always.
NYC Prep continued being a thing that existed. And Real World Cancun, too!
Senator Al Franken told a joke!
All the kids are dressing as wizards and getting drunk and posting pictures on Facebook, because it is 2009.
Oh no, crusties have invaded Williamsburg and they're stealing our women!
There are no good ways to get fired, but Newsweek is really trying to find the worst way.
To be fair to the Emmy people, and to Family Guy, there really are only like three actually funny shows on TV right now.
Is Twitter selling us out to the NSA? Yes, probably. They say they aren't, though!
If poor people get health care, New York's "risk-takers" will all starve to death.
Old man Letterman is finally winning in the ratings! Hooray for old people!
You may no longer have a job, but on the plus side, you're no longer working for The Man!
Megan Fox: should ladies love her? Men, on the whole, are kind of indifferent to her, we feel like, but she seems to rile you gals up something fierce.
Models finally have a place where they can hang out with other models. Finally.
Pat Buchanan still loves white people, fyi.
Here is a tip: if you love your wife, don't run for Congress and live at the C Street house.
Perez Hilton does not even write the terrible things he writes! So you cant' get mad!

Meet Perez Hilton's Ghost [Creative Underclass]

Ryan Tate — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 18:39:18 -0400

Meet Barbara Lavandeira, or, as she's known online, PerezHilton.com. She's actually pretty normal, when not pretending to be her brother.

Guanabee went digging online for information about Barbara; it looks like the 25-year-old lives a fairly ordinary life. She studied business management and computers in college and tailgated at University of Miami football games.

Her brother Mario (aka Perez) is the face of PerezHilton.com, while Barbara cranks out posts, as revealed in a fresh lawsuit filed against Mario. Maybe when she finally learns to be half as elegant and charming as her big brother, Barbara will be allowed to share some of the glory that inevitably comes with doodling semen on people's faces.

The Homosexual Undertones of the Half-Blood Prince [Potter-mania]

Natasha VC — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 18:11:03 -0400

A major challenge in Harry Potter 6 is that the teenage wizard had the ability to get a boner. So how did the kid-friendly franchise deal with the prickly issue of teenage sexuality? Splendidly! But perhaps in an unintended direction.

Hogwarts is a hormonal hothouse! Wizards are snogging in the halls, winking at each other during Potions class, and they're even abusing their powers to seduce other supple wizards. Director David Yates did a fantastic job capturing the sexual tension that must throb through any kind of co-ed castle. But because the most troublesome part of teen sexuality is the idea of a loose lady wizard most of the innuendos and flirtation stayed between the boys. And so in the tradition of British boarding schools things got a little gay.

Here's a breakdown (spoiler free):

Ron adores Harry, naturally. Ron's always been uneasy around girls and it was chalked up to the fact that he's clumsy goof. But in the sixth installment, Ron has become a bit of a strapping butch boy and he starts to get noticed by the girls. He plays along but really only lights up when he is around Harry. His supposed crush on Hermione is as lustful as nursing home bingo game. But when Harry's in the room, Rupert Grint, who plays Ron, blushes, grins, his shoulders roll back and hips sway forward when he talks to Harry.

Daniel Radcliffe who has always played Harry a little fey, undulates and titters around Ron. At a quidditch tryout Ron needs to impress Harry in order to make the team. Harry's eyes stayed locked on Ron as he straddles a broom. When Ron succeeds in blocking a score from the opposing team, Ron leans back on his broom, clutches the broom at its base and points it in Harry's direction. Harry beams. It is a giant phallic broomstick in between his legs! C'mon people!

Also, there is a lot of touching and affection between the male teachers of Hogwartz and the boys. Whether it's Snape, (Alan Rickman looks like a New Wave lesbian in a cape) who continually pushes his chest into Harry's face. Or Professor Slughorn who longs for Harry's attention and who Harry essentially seduces for information. Or Dumbledore, with his feminine affectation is such an obvious old queen.

There's a whole closed cabinet/closed motiff too! At one point, Dumbledore confronts a young Voldemort about a literal flaming box of secrets in his closet!

And even though Rowling has revealed that Dumbledore was in fact a gay, the homoeroticism that was on the screen is absent in the books. Hell, I don't even think it was in the script. The young male actors are bubbling over with sexual energy and had nowhere to point it so they pointed it at each other.

P.S. I also think Radcliffe is gay as all get out! There, I said it.

(Top pic via TheGreatGeekManual, Time cover mash-up by our pals at Vulture)

Kreepie Kats Klassik: "You are Konfirmed to Sit on The Supreme Kourt of My Weiner" [Kreepie Kats]

Pareene — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 18:10:16 -0400

[Jim Behrle's Kreepie Kats investigate Sonia Sotomayor's judicial temperament. Klick to enlarge!]

Twitter Co-Founder Moving Out of Minimalist 'Poet's Cottage' [Real Estate Porn]

Ryan Tate — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 17:57:40 -0400

Biz Stone is selling his two-bedroom home in the Berkeley Hills. The Twitter co-founder didn't say why "it's time to move;" maybe to live closer to Twitter HQ in San Francisco, or maybe he's just outgrown this artist's hovel.

Just look at it: The two-bedroom cottage lists at less than $600,000, making it practically a shack by the standards of the Bay Area tech elite, who can easily pay seven figures for a basic, single-family home in their favored neighborhoods. Sure, it was designed by modernist architect William Wurster, but where is a tech mogul going to park his helicopter?

Living in such a small place may have been a necessary sacrifice when Stone, a sometime writer, was churning out such literary achievements as "Who Let the Blogs Out?" and "Genius Strategies for Instant Web Content," works in which he earned the right to call this a "poet's cottage."

But now that Stone has empowered the world to write beautiful poetry, 140 characters at a time, it's time to move on. Aspiring artists/blog tool makers now have their chance to snatch up Stone's tidy home base:

[via SF Weekly]

(Pics via property listing)

White House Tweets News, Does Not Run Into Tree [Lame]

Pareene — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 17:31:13 -0400

Oh, god. The White House just announced a prime time press conference for next week. And they announced it on Twitter! Hey @whitehouse, that is rly stupid.

"It's Not the Cantina, But It's a Start." [Pic Of The Day]

Richard Lawson — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 17:27:00 -0400

[Boba Fett! Playing an accordion! On 10th Ave and 20th Street! Whee. Image via Holly Northrop's Flickr]

How Much It Pays to Be a 'Difficult' Blogger Like Nikki Finke [Mysteries]

Natasha VC — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 17:23:09 -0400

We finally know how much aspiring Hollywood mogul Jay Penske has agreed to pay industry blogger Nikki Finke: according to the NYT's David Carr: $400,000 a year for the next eight years. Pretty good money, but not $14 million.

Why quibble? Because that's how much rival Hollywood webpreneur Sharon Waxman — who wouldn't mind pushing up the price of websites about the entertainment business — insists the deal is worth. In her story today about Penske's nabbing of magazine editor Bonnie Fuller to run HollywoodLife.com, Amy Kaufman writes at Waxman's The Wrap, "Last month, TheWrap reported that MMC purchased Nikki Finke's blog Deadline Hollywood Daily for a deal totalling $14 million."

Still, Finke is now pulling in one of the largest blogger — excuse us, news website editor — salaries around. And as Carr points out, Finke has her sharp elbowed, merciless, style that she's known for to thank for Penske's millions. One the big debates about Finke's is whether she is a hard-nosed reporter trying to keep Hollywood honest or a recluse ranting on the corner of Journalism and Vendetta?

We've had Nikki's digital spittle on our faces a number of times. And so have many others, like an editor at GQ for instance. This email from Nikki sent to the GQ is one of our is one of our favorite postcards from the stormy isle of Finke:

Subject: Re: LA story
Date: 8/17/2004 3:13:52 PM Pacific Daylight Time

From: Nikki Finke

To: XXXX

You think having an unnamed Hollywood agent talking about poaching unnamed clients is a "get"? I have 300 interviews with real live Hollywood agents ON THE RECORD talking all about stealing clients and naming names, dates, places, etc. not to mention a whole bunch of even juicier stuff. But do you people ever think to actually call me to do an article for you? Noooooooooooooooooooooo....

Because I'm not 24 years old...
Because I'm not making up stuff.

Because I don't live in New York.

Because I don't kiss up to the idiots who decide which stars magazines like GQ can and can't put on their covers.

Because I actually know something about Hollywood.

Here's a thought: Why not ask me to put together the juiciest Hollywood stories I know for your magazine. Oh, you're running late for lunch at Michael's?

How come I'm not surprised.

C'mon guys! Who wants to buy Nikki lunch? As a burgeoning chronicler of the entertainment scene, I have to tell you that judging from this highlight reel Nikki Finke is an absolute inspiration to me. She proves that you can be successful despite your tendency towards spleen venting tirades, outrageous public feuding, intolerable smugness, and overall an contemptuous personality. There's hope still!