Gawker

Asians 'Medium Upset' by Atlanta Color-Coding Their Subway Line 'Yellow' [Postracial]

Maureen O'Connor — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 04:42:33 EST

Residents of Atlanta's Asian enclave, Doraville, are thrilled to finally get their own MARTA train. They feel kinda awkward about it being called the "yellow line," though. [AJC] [Pic via]

Norwegians with Pitchforks Attack Google Street View [Wtf]

Maureen O'Connor — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 03:32:32 EST

Will finding humorous moments on Google Street View ever get old? No. Never. Here is a most perplexing image of men dressed in scuba gear, chasing Google Street View with ad hoc weapons. [Google via Reddit]

Which of These 6 Perversely Fascinating YouTube Memes Speaks to the Darkness of Your Soul? [Personality Quiz]

Maureen O'Connor — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 02:35:43 EST

NYT Magazine recently probed the psyche of YouTube's falling figure skater meme, a commenter points us to hobby animators' CGI snuff films. Among a cornucopia of cyber-Schadenfreude, which genre describes your innermost desires, fears, or fetishes? Let us analyze.

Warning: Some of these videos are NSFLunchBreak. There is also a chance that none will appeal to you, in which case your soul is as clean enough to eat off.

To view all videos on a single page, click here.

Figure Skater/Stripper/Gymnast Falls
Why It's Appealing: NYT Magazine's Virginia Heffernan on the appeal figure skater falls:

There is something ominous in the juxtaposition of vulnerable and underdressed women, melodramatic choreography involving moves called 'death spirals' and 'death drops,' sharp steel blades and skull-cracking ice. ... In portentously played scenes of pairs skating, especially, men drop women in bone-splintering spills.

The phenomenon may be extrapolated to stripper and gymnast falls. At the top of her game, each woman represents a distinct female sexual ideal: The figure skater is the fluttering picture of grace, the stripper is the porn-ified whore, and the gymnast is the puberty-retarded nymph. To witness her fall is to live out a humiliation/destruction fantasy for her archetype. Also, falling is funny.
If You Can't Look Away: Female sexuality troubles you—it may be a threat, a point of jealous insecurity, or a source of intimidation. Alternately, you are a butt bruise fetishist. How do you feel about your mother?
When You Tire of This Try: Diving board mishaps.

[Vid via GawkerTV]

Athletes Breaking Bones
Why It's Appealing: Though this genre overlaps with the previous category, it is a more classic form of Schadenfreude. The shocking realization that someone could be so fast/strong/physically enabled as to damage themselves so severely is also awesome. (Compare the above to the last time I injured myself, slipping on ice while toddling slowly across the sidewalk. Bo-ring.)
If You Can't Look Away: Sports fans, those who enjoy Discovery Channel Medical Mysteries, those who fear pain and enjoy torturing themselves.
When You Tire of This Try: Contortionists.

Big, Splashy Zit-Popping
Why It's Appealing: Way back in 2008, Jezebel documented this phenom, and editor Anna Holmes wrote a column tying it to social grooming, sadomasochism, symbolic orgasms, and the desire to excise one's ugliest parts. I'll add the joy of reveling in one's own filth, and the satisfaction of obliterating minor enemies. (Have you ever burned a canker sore out with a finger full of salt? Exactly.)
If You Can't Look Away: OCD perfectionists and body dysmorphics can exorcise their demons here. Those who enjoy corporeal disgust—especially if you have ties to a religion that preaches mortification of flesh—will find comfort.
When You Tire of This Try: Contortionists.

Building Collapses
Why It's Appealing: Loud crashing noises and the glorious destruction of large-scale symbols of human endeavor. When it's a planned demolition, you don't even have to feel guilty.
If You Can't Look Away: Civilization strikes you as fleeting. Entropy and destruction give you joy. You're the kind of guy who always kicks down the sand castle (jerk) and Freud has something to say about your feelings for phalluses.
When You Tire of This Try: Car crashes.

CGI Suicide Snuff Films
Why It's Appealing: Animation hobbyists say they're merely experimenting with CGI gore. Staging suicide is a pragmatic necessity—staging murder requires two people, which you may not have. The meme gets creepier, though, when you realize its practitioners are almost exclusively teen boys (a worrisome demographic for depression and gun violence) and the YouTube descriptions sometimes treat "My Suicide" like it's real. The web's memory of various real (and hoax) webcam suicides amplifies the horror. This meme animates our worst fears for social media and internet exhibitionism.
If You Can't Look Away: Technology both fascinates and terrifies you. You may be a fan of any number of dystopic sci-fi novels. (Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake kind of predicted this.) Cyberbullying worries you.
When You Tire of This Try: Hole in My Hand, a gentler CGI experiment in self-erasure.

Hat-tip to commenter Samtagious.

Enormous Animals Giving Birth
Why It's Appealing: Miracle of life + Mysteries of the animal kingdom + Sick satisfaction of popping a zit + Cute baby at the end. The above documentary depicts a Balinese elephant giving birth, then reviving the baby.
If You Can't Look Away: Your heart leaps up when you behold the awesome forces of nature. Alternately, childbirth is a source of anxiety/fascination, and human ones are hard to come by and/or are more invasive to watch. You have a high tolerance for gore.
When You Tire of This Try: Animals humping weird things. I actually thought the elephant birth was cool, but animal sex has always made me queasy. Apparently many consider it funny, though.

Tom Cruise Returns For New Impossible Mission [Trade Roundup]

Adrian Chen — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 01:18:39 EST

Mission: Impossible 4 will star Tom: Cruise. New evidence suggests Howard Stern will not be on American Idol. Julia Roberts and Tom Hanks get picked up by Universal. Snowpocalypse 2010 got you down? The Trade Roundup has powerfully heated seats!

•Deadline reports tonight that Tom Cruise has signed on for Paramount's Mission Impossible 4. MI4 will be directed by J.J. Abrams, who directed MI3 and, most recently, Star Trek. Filming will start this summer and should be finished in time for a Memorial Day 2011 release. Remember that motorcycle fight scene from MI2?. That was AWESOME! [Deadline]

•Howard Stern and American Idol: Their tenuous relationship might be more tenuous than we first believed. Former Gawker scribe Richard Rushfield, writing in the Daily Beast, calls 'bull' on rumors that Stern could be the next Simon Cowell. "Two Idol insiders told The Daily Beast that no offer has been made to Stern... A source familiar with the search process says Stern was never even being considered." Even if Stern was a candidate, Deadline reports Ellen DeGeneres is not a fan. And rounding out your Idol news: The Wrap reports that Idol judge's blatantly placed huge plastic Coke cups have been replaced with Coke-owned Vitamin water. Ch-ch-ch-changes! [Daily Beast][The Wrap][Deadline]

•A couple of big-ticket acquisitions: Universal Pictures has scored domestic distribution rights to the Tom Hanks/Julia Roberts comedy Larry Crowne. Hanks directed the film, about "a man re-inventing his life. Broad, but promising! Roberts and Hanks co-starred in 2007's Charlie Wilson's War, which we seem to remember did pretty well. Meanwhile, Summit Entertainment has picked up North American rights to Mandate Pictures' untitled Seth Rogen/James McAvoy comedy. McAvoy will be a young guy who finds out he has cancer. Sounds like Funny People. [THR][THR]

•Earnings news! The Walt Disney Co. reported pretty flat earnings in Q3: $844 million in profits compared to $845 million a year ago. Revenue was up 1%, though. Lionsgate, on the other hand, boosted revenues by 15% in Q3. This was largely thanks to its booming TV operation—including Mad Men and Nurse Jackie Still, Lionsgate lost $66 million. [Variety][Variety]

•MTV has green-lit the next Jackass generation: Dudesons in America is about four crazy Fins who come to America and do stunts like "bullfighting on stilts and trying to build their own rocketship." MTV's Parkour Challenge is about that crazy jumpy stuff that Madonna made famous in her music video. Prediction: All these people will die violent deaths. [Variety]

The Jay Leno Show: 2009-2010 [And Now It's Dead]

Adrian Chen — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 22:39:05 EST

The Jay Leno Show died today. It was five months old. Tonight, a half-dead zombie version of the show briefly rose from its deathbed to celebrate its own demise. This was as fun to watch as you might expect.

The Jay Leno Show's cause of death has been the subject of much controversy in past weeks. But all signs during tonight's final show pointed to the failure of that most vital of organs: The host. "This show was supposed to last 2 years, but my sentence was reduced to five months for good behavior," gasped Leno. "Five months! Do you realize guys on viagra had erections that lasted longer than that?" The audience's forced laughter only underscored how depressingly macabre the whole thing was; if you're going to have a zombie stagger around telling jokes on stage, at least make them good jokes!

A short video was played in honor of the deceased. It was celebrity-studded and about as funny as someone drawing a dick on a roadside cross which marks the site of a bus crash. There could have been no more fitting tribute to The Jay Leno Show.

Ashton Kutcher delivered a eulogy: "I felt like it was fitting that I came on the last show to reveal that the whole Tonight Show/earlier show thing was a punk." A hilarious punk!

As did Bob Costas: "The Last '10@10' huh? Kind of like being involved in the last broadcast of a Clipper's season, isn't it?"

And just to make sure we didn't miss it too much, the show included one final installment of the worst reoccurring comedy bit in the history of television: "Beer Pong Shot of the Week." Let's do a little bit of revisionist history here and say that it was "Beer Pong Shot of the Week" which ultimately killed The Jay Leno Show. Maybe this will keep anything like "Beer Pong Shot of the Week" from happening ever again.

And with that, The Jay Leno Show was declared dead on February 9th, 2010, 11:00pm EST.

The final Jay Leno Show was a smirking retreat, not a tearful goodbye. Which is fitting, since nobody's crying for The Jay Leno Show. We've all heard the dark rumors that mad scientists are even now working feverishly in NBC's hilltop fortress to breath monstrous new life into the show's putrefying corpse. Quickly, fellow TV-watchers! Our only hope is to draw and quarter this abomination and scatter its parts to the very ends of the earth! Dear God. Do you hear that? We're too late! The Tonight Show with Jay Leno! It's... it's... It's alive!

Good & Plenty and Banana Nut Bread Will Get You Laid This Valentine's Day [Aphrodisiacs]

Adrian Chen — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 21:41:29 EST

Valentine's day approaches. Everyone wants to have sex. Quick: there's only five more days to work yourselves into a frothy state of arousal! Luckily, the Times helps us out with a sexxxy prix fixe menu. Main course? Love. Also, doughnuts.

This article about the "hunt for an edible equivalent of Viagra" convinced us you'd be better off just procuring some real Viagra. Why do you need to eat all these weird foods to fuel your boners and whatever is the female equivalent of the boner; science has fixed this! (Well, not the female equivalent of the boner—they're working on it, though.) Given our advanced pharmacological knowledge, hunting for the best food aphrodisiacs these days makes as much sense as hunting for the best food to cure polio.

But if you insist on going the culinary route, here are what various experts and ancient peoples cited in this New York Times article have to suggest. These foods' aphrodisiac qualities can roughly be divided into three categories: Chemical, shape and texture, and WTF?

Chemical
Oysters (contains zinc, which increases sperm production)
Garlic (increases bloodflow)
Chili peppers (spiciness quickens pulse)

Shape and Texture
Oysters (slurping is sexy)
cucumbers (looks like a peen)
asparagus (looks like a weird peen)
figs (looks like a vag)
guacamole (all smeary and gross, like the best sex)

WTF
Doughnuts and licorice (men)
lavender and pumpkin pie (men)
baby powder (women)
Good & Plenty candy and cucumber (women)
Good & Plenty and banana nut bread (women)

Bon appetit!

Ashton Kutcher's Trouble With Mexicans [Twitterati]

Ryan Tate — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 20:43:27 EST

The father of Gmail gave his kid a pat on the back; a TV doctor defended his slang; and Ashton Kutcher's iPhone ruined his Mexican relations. The Twitterati just tried to get along.

Actor Ashton Kutcher is unlucky with Latinos, but he's working on really earning that misfortune.

When FriendFeed creator Paul Buchheit talks about "my Gmail," we presume he means that on at least two different levels.

TV's Drew "Dr. Drew" Pinsky has been, like, "OMG" all day today.

New York Times writer Stephanie Clifford had a very mild reaction to her hometown being called "boring" and "disappointingly average." But then that's precisely what you'd expect from a Seattleite, isn't it?

If "Julia Allison" is a brand, then "Please don't send me back to economy" is its defining tagline.

Did you witness the media elite tweet something indiscreet? Please email us your favorite tweets — or send us more Twitter usernames.

Facebook Employment More Desirable Than Hunky TV Dude [Jobs]

Adrian Chen — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 20:38:30 EST

At the end of last night's The Bachelor, contestant Ali Fedotowsky gave up a chance at eternal happiness with Jake to return to her job. The gig? Working at Facebook! Must be all that free food. [NYmag]

The New York Times Is Now Spreading Vicious Rumors About the New York Times [Mysteries]

Ryan Tate — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 19:29:28 EST

Rumors that the New York Times will take down David Paterson have spiraled into a factless, "self-referential frenzy," says the New York Times in a factless, self-referential blog post that adds to the frenzy and clarifies pretty much nothing.

The bizarre, unbylined post covers the rumors the Times is working on a bombshell article about New York Gov. Paterson, without actually addressing said rumors in any meaningful way. Times metro editor Joe Sexton does finally say something: "We are not responsible for what other news organizations are reporting. It's not coming from The Times." Which is such a non-denial denial he might as well have just called the governor a satanist furry swinger. When will probable chainsaw-wielding sex fiend David Paterson stop forcing the New York Times to issue desperate, coded blog posts?

Snowedinfreude [Pic Of The Day]

Brian Moylan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 18:42:26 EST

[Go ahead laugh at this man falling over in Sheep's Meadow in Central Park during a 1993 snow storm. It won't be so funny tomorrow when you try to trudge your way to work through the snow. Image via Getty]

Cut Out Our Hearts with Your Valentine's Day Horror Stories [Valentine's Day Of Horrors]

Brian Moylan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 18:34:04 EST

Yeah, Valentine's Day sucks, but this year we're not hating on it. Instead, we're going to ask you to tell us all your terrible tales of lovesickness that revolve around February 14th. For the best (worst?) there is a prize!

You should know the drill by now, since we did this for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Go to the comments section below and leave us your tale of woe. While the holiday tales centered mostly around fucked up families, we expect these to be more about relationships and the people we choose to treat us like shit! This is completely new territory.

If you have one of these stories, you probably already know it, but we're looking for that time you got stood up by your long-stand crush for a Valentine's date, when you got dumped by your no-good ex just as you were about to give him an expensive present, or when you got food poisoning from some day-old chocolate and ended up puking all over the girl who you thought was going to be the mother of your babies. Tales of the desperate things we do to get over VD-related loneliness are completely acceptable and entirely encouraged. We love a good "relationship gone bad" story, but these have to be centered around the holiday (at least tangentially). Now get in the comments and share, share, share!

We're going to declare our winner on Monday, so that leaves time for you to leave your fresh new stories on Sunday night before you cry yourselves to sleep on your lonely, lonely pillow. If we choo-choo-choose you as the winner, you will get $50 in credit to your favorite dating website (Standard Contest Rules apply). That's like six months on Manhunt. (Not that, ahem, I would know)

Now put on some Joy Division and get in the comments. Share your pain with the world and we will help you find a whole new someone to take out that pain on. See, we're here for you!

[Image via Mark Sebastian's Flickr]

What's in #tips Today? [Tiplist]

Gabriel Snyder — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 18:15:17 EST

In #tips: someone's missing George W. Bush, Dustin Lance Black, and Andrew Breitbart wants to scare you. Meanwhile at always-on open forum #crosstalk, princesslala wonders if "FAIL" should follow "douche" and "hipster" into the Gawker Retired Word Home. Discuss.

Swifter found a hi-res photo of that George W. Bush "Miss Me Yet?" billboard in Minnesota. Comment trolls are spreading into real life! sfBirdie swears she wasn't on Foxnews.com, but says there's a story there explaining that it was purchased by a "group of small business owners and individuals who just felt like Washington was against them."
The Lone Scout reads Andrew Breitbart's BigJournalism.com so we don't have to. (When Will You Retract Appletini Partyboy!) What big topics is journalism tackling? How about the impending Iranian Dahe Fajr Surprise that the lefty media is too afraid to tell us about.
contradicto highlights an interview with Dustin Lance Black that is very much worth reading.
mfnher makes us aware of Megan Fox's secret shame: her clubbed thumb. That makes me think of Of Human Bondage which is available in full on Youtube.
Alex Pace gives you your Tumblr of the Day: Hipster Puppies.
GlasgowRose found a neat video of people enjoying the D.C. Snowpocalypse by dragging their friend on a snowboard behind from a car. Only four more hours until the blizzard hits New York. Stay safe everybody.

You can leave us tips, links, news, story ideas, pictures, whatever on the #tips page by using the "Share" box on the front page and including the hashtag #tips. If you'd prefer, you can also send a confidential email to tips@gawker.com or call our tipline at 646-214-8138.

Comments of the Day: Snow? Balls. [We Read You]

Richard Lawson — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 17:29:00 EST

As fair New York battens down the hatches for the blizzardiest blizzard that ever blizzarded, let's honor a couple of comments so when Dennis Quaid finds our frozen corpses, he'll at least know we kept commenting until the bitter end.

Commenter Arthur Von Asinine has pointed words about how Dan Choi is single-handedly ruining our military:

There'd be much more chaos were he on the top bunk.

And Motoko Kusanagi wants to show you his Google stripper party pics:

Here's a pic of me and my bodyguards arriving at that very party!

That's that! Enjoy the weather and please don't die. Denton's called a snow day for tomorrow, which still means work, but at least we can be in our pyjamas.

How to Make It in America's Fictional New York Will Ruin Real New York, Again [American Tradgedy]

Brian Moylan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 17:26:18 EST

HBO's newest attempt to regain relevance debuts on Sunday (but is on YouTube now!), and if it takes off it is going to ruin Manhattan just like Carrie Bradshaw did in the 2000s. Get ready for the Ben Sapstein invasion.

Ben Epstein (the delicious Bryan Greenberg), the main character on How to Make It in America is a scruffy late-20s hipster type who has given up trying to hit the big time and taken a job folding jeans at Barneys. His best friend is native New Yorker Cam (Victor Rasuk) who is always working an angle and trying for a make-it-rich scam. They have a bunch of connected friends and go to glamorous art openings and rage at fabulous loft parties. It's all so awesome and now. Shit, I wanna live in this New York and I already live in New York! It's just like Sex and the City was back in the day. And the similarities don't end there. They both feature too-big apartments, too-lofty dreams, and too-ideal social worlds. The things in How to Make It—hedge fun jerks, candy boys on the subway, Nylon writers, trust fund babies, bootleg clothing merchants, Conde Nast expense accounts—do exist (well, those expense accounts don't exist anymore), but there aren't as many of them and they aren't as great as this show makes them out to be.

However all the young, impressionable boys at home are going to watch this thing and think it's real life and they're going to flock here in droves, like a pack of entitled locusts self-consciously attaching themselves to the city's industries and trying to leech them for their own shot at the big time, only to be disappointed. Yes, the green light at the end of the dock is the glow of a TV screen left on too long, and it is not real. Just ask the disillusioned PR girls, magazine writers, publishing execs, and lawyers who moved here in the 2000s trying to drink cosmos at club openings with their best girl friends only to find out that they couldn't even afford cable anymore, nonetheless the premium cable lifestyle.

The time period and the gender of these people may be different, so is their goal. While the Scary Sadshaws are hoping for love, fashion, and a life of leisure, the Ben Sapsteins want money, status, and tons of pussy. But still they are strivers all. The ironic thing is that the Sapsteins also hate the thing they also want to ultimately become. Ben and Cam come across an old high school friend of Ben's, Kappo, who is the stereotypical hedge-fund douche who hires hookers and likes bottle service. Didn't the recession kill off this horrible and virulent strain of human beings? They hate him, but use him for his money. Also, Ben's ex girlfriend has taken up with a financier/hotelier asshole named Darren. Of course they hate him as well, but the thing that underlies their repulsion is jealousy. The Sapsteins want to be rich like the man, but they think they can do it without becoming the man. This is just another layer of their mass delusion.

Get ready to learn more about the Sapsteins as the show progresses so that we can adequately prepare for when they graduate from their state schools and invade our fair city. There is little we can do to stem the tide, but at least now there will be an influx of eligible men to finally give the Sadshaws their shot at love.

You'll Have David Paterson's Job When You Pry It from His Cold, Dead Hands [America's Best Governor]

Pareene — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 17:13:50 EST

Governor Paterson went on TV to talk about the snow, but then he began talking about other things, and he finally said that the only way he's leaving office before his term is up is "in a box."

(Unless he meant he and his wife are going to The Box? It was unclear.) Aaand he's doing Larry King on Thursday. We love him.

Watch Your Health or Die Alone and Afraid and Hated by Michelle Obama [Health Watch]

Hamilton Nolan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 16:59:10 EST

Beer bones! Soda cancer! Money fear! Broken hearts! Happy marriage! Michelle O-fitness! It's time for your Gawker health watch, where we watch health—for YOU!

Drinking beer is good for your bones! Light colored beers are particularly effective against osteoporosis. Take that, whatever's healthy for your liver!
But soda gives you cancer. So only drink beer, at all times.
People are like crazy scared of losing money. Why? Because of your brain! The very thought of losing money activates your amygdala, the portion of the brain that makes you a pussy. You'll never be a good gambler until you get that lobotomy.
Isn't a "broken heart" just some fake thing that somebody made up to sing a song that sucks? No, it's a real medical thing that can kill you. Happy Valentine's Day!
What is the secret of long, happy marriages? Do as few things together as possible. Now you know!
Who wants your fat slob kids to lose weight? Michelle Obama, that's who! Do you want to disappoint her? No, because you have a crush on her. You'll never get to smooch Michelle Obama if she sees your fat kids so shape up, America!

Everybody Hates Chuck Todd [Hazing]

John Cook — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 16:27:33 EST

Barack Obama held a press conference today. While the availability may have assuaged concerns about the press' unprecedented lack of access to Obama, it did nothing to allay concerns that he calls on that jerk Chuck Todd too much.

The White House clearly timed today's presser specifically to make the Washington Post's Howard Kurtz, who wrote a nonsensical and self-undermining story just yesterday airing complaints that Obama doesn't talk to reporters enough (!), look and feel stupid — just as Todd's colleagues conspired to make him look and feel stupid by booing him when Obama called on him today. Here's a debate that Lou Dobbs hosted six months ago on CNN on the subject of whether Obama was suffering from overexposure because he talks to reporters too much. Guess which side Kurtz took! Guess!

Ski Jumpers: Our Saddest Olympians [Look Out Below]

Richard Lawson — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 16:26:55 EST

Being an Olympian is awfully glamorous, isn't it? The fame, the fans, the adoring high-spirited support of an entire nation. Plus all those endorsement deals. Just look how rich these fuckers are. Though, sigh, look how poor ski jumpers are.

That totally sadsack AP article is about the US ski jump team — specifically three mountain-grown lads named Nick, Peter, and Anders — and how they basically make no money ever, and no one ever comes to see them, and they can't go to college because they spend twenty grand a year to play a sport that makes them no money and no one sees because they love it. Even in the relatively whitebread rarefied world of Winter gamers, there's a pretty stark and unfortunate disparity at work. Where a bubble-butted Lindsay Vonn can earn a cool coupla mil a year, her USA teammates are going into debt, bartering away their futures for a shot at fleeting and not-terribly-paid-attention-to glory. Oh and the real kick in the Heads? Those ski jumpers can't even go to the big flashy opening ceremonies on Friday, because they have to be out qualifying in Whistler. Poor dudes. Will someone at least get these boys* jobs at Home Depot?

*One must say "boys" because, as we all know, soaring through the air on skis like a common flying squirrel is no place for a lady.

The First Tiger Woods Scandalography Is in the Works [Books]

Ryan Tate — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 16:20:42 EST

People writer Steve Helling will write an oh-so-unauthorized biography of Tiger Woods. Publisher Perseus Books tells Publishers Weekly it will be "the first" post-scandal book on the sexaholic golfer. But surely not the last. Title ideas, anyone? (Via GalleyCat)

Gawker.TV: The Five Best Videos Ever of the Day [Clipjob]

Whitney Jefferson — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 16:00:00 EST

Today at Gawker.TV, Bill Murray dines with Anthony Bourdain, How I Met Your Mother's harem of hotties, Jon Stewart may have ripped off another comedian last night, the best commercials from the 1980s, and Mayor Bloomberg prepares us for the worst.

Mayor Bloomberg Urges Everyone Not to Kill Themselves Tomorrow
New Yorkers are bracing themselves for their very own Snowpocalypse tomorrow. And after ruining the kids' snow day tomorrow, Mayor Bloomberg gave some sage advice for all the snow shovelers: Don't have a heart attack. Duly noted, sir.

Anthony Bourdain Shares a Steak With Bill Murray on No Reservations
Usually Anthony Bourdain visits exotic locales eating conch ceviché, but last night he stayed close to home by touring the Hudson Valley. And who did he happen to have dinner with? Long-time resident Bill Murray! Bourdain was in awe.

Did The Daily Show Steal a Joke from Another Comedian?
On last night's Daily Show, Jon Stewart lampooned the weekend's Tea Party Convention and Sarah Palin's handwritten note. One of his jokes concerned Palin's use of the "High-School-Chem-Test" method of reminders. It was a great joke, but was it original?

The 1980s: The Golden Age of Commercials
Remember the 80's? Television had really hit a stride in this exuberant decade, and it wasn't just the sitcoms, Saturday morning cartoons, and prime-time soaps, but the segments that filled the voids between

What Happens When You Nationally Broadcast Your Phone Number During the Super Bowl?
You get an endless stream of hot women. On last night's How I Met Your Mother, Barney hired a driver for the occasion and plowed through as many women as he could. Until, of course, it drove him insane.

American Optimagicians Will Triumph [Recessionomics]

Hamilton Nolan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 15:44:37 EST

The Way We Live Now: Optimagically. We choose to believe that good times are ahead despite plain evidence to the contrary. As long as someone somewhere can bail someone else out, it's luxury condos and Bergdorf Goodman for us.

First in line for the smiley-face optimagic award: Luxury retailers! They are absolutely the most smiling optimistic people you will ever trip over on the bread line. It's almost Fashion Week and luxury sales are expected to be through the roof. Fashionistas have had enough of the "suffering" thing.

And there is no more optimagic place than Manhattan, Diamond Queen of all the New York boroughs! While people in the outer boroughs tend to spend their paltry wages at Target, Manhattanites prefer shopping at Bergdorf's. It's just nice. As well as more expensive, which is helpful when it comes to disposing of pesky money.

There'll always be more! We are just spending on any old thing these days. The average American spends a thousand bucks a year on internet services and phone services and video game services and all types of services that are not doing one thing called "making you money." But that's okay! The mark of a civilized society is that that society can, even in times of great economic peril, spare no expense on hardware that allows us to communicate with our virtual commando team while playing war simulation games on the internet.

Shit, even Greece is gonna get a bailout. Greece. We're Americans, damn it. We have nothing to worry about.
[Pic via]

This Goldman House: Bonus Season Means It's Time to Add a New Floor to Your Townhouse [Goldman Project]

John Cook — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 15:23:08 EST

It's bonus season, so we're trying to keep up with how Goldman Sachs employees are spending their taxpayer-financed windfalls. Today's entries: A $6 million penthouse condo, and adding a new floor to the upper-east-side historical landmark in which you live.

Every Goldman Sachs employee knows that right about now is when the bonuses arrive, and even though this year's take will be heavily weighted toward restricted stock, some Goldmanites are already putting your tax dollars to good use!

Take Goldman managing director Henry Cornell, who serves as the chief operating officer of the merchant banking division—he's adding a new floor to his upper-east-side townhouse (that's a lovely side view from the plans above). In December, Cornell filed his plans to add new windows to his E. 80th St. townhouse, which he purchased in 2000 for $11.5 million, with New York's Department of Finance. To judge by the permits Cornell has sought from the Buildings Department, it's going to be an extensive renovation. This permit, issued just three weeks ago, calls for the "demolition of 4th floor to accomodate [sic] new 5th floor" and "excavation of cellar and crawl space for ne [sic] sub cellar."

It's a pity that Cornell wants to "demolish" his own fourth floor, seeing as how his house was designated a historical landmark by the Landmarks Preservation Committee in 1967 due to its "elegant simplicity...fine proportions, and attractive relationship of the windows to the house as a whole." [pdf]

We don't know how much this will cost, of course, but we doubt Cornell will spare any expense. He's also busy launching the Henry Cornell Winery in Santa Rosa, Calif., which he plans to build on land he's purchased several parcels at a time over the past decade for a total of $8 million. In November, Cornell filed plans with the state of California [pdf] to turn the land into a winery with an 8,000 square-foot cave as a cellar. (So we'd imagine that new "sub cellar" in the Manhattan townhouse may be to accommodate his wine collection.) Cornell's neighbors have objected to his plans, though, claiming that a new winery (does Northern California need another one?) will disrupt animal habitats and foul up a local creek. Anyway, that's what Henry Cornell is spending his bonus on: A new floor, a wine cellar, and a California winery. Your living the dream, Henry. Congratulations!

Cornell's colleague Jonathan Fine, a managing director who works on Goldman's investment-grade syndicate desk, whatever that is, is blowing his bonus on a $6 million Greenwich St. condo in Manhattan, which he and his wife purchased in December. It's a penthouse unit with four bedrooms, 2-and-a-half bathrooms, and an 1,100 square-foot private roof deck.

We initially weren't quite sure that the "Jonathan Howard Fine" who purchased the condo was the same one who works at Goldman, so we called to make sure. His colleague on the syndicate desk who answered the phone said Fine had called in sick that day, so we called his listed home number. A woman answered, and we heard hammering in the background—still moving in perhaps? Anyway, when we asked her if she'd just purchased the Greenwich St. condo, she referred the question to an unnamed man standing nearby. When we asked her if that was the Jonathan Fine who worked for Goldman Sachs, she said, "I'm not going to answer any of your questions." About 20 minutes later, we got a call from a Goldman Sachs flack wondering what all the fuss was about.

If you know how Cornell and Fine's colleagues are spending their hard-earned (by taxpayers!) bonuses, do let us know.

[Research by Gawker intern Sergio Hernandez.]

Google Invented a New Facebook-Type Thing [Social Networks]

Ryan Tate — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 15:17:03 EST

Google Buzz is like Facebook, except built in to Google's GMail and automatically hooked up to your best email and chat buddies. You can share links, videos, photos and opinions. What could possibly go wrong? (Pic via)

Robert Gibbs Will Receive a Sternly Worded Facebook Message from Sarah Palin [Jokes]

Pareene — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 14:43:53 EST

That Robert Gibbs is quite the card. He wrote notes on his hand, just like Sarah Palin did! And then the whole White House press corps laughed because of liberal bias. (And Obama showed up for a surprise press conference!)

Maybe Journalists Should Smoke More Crack? [Media Crack]

Hamilton Nolan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 14:38:12 EST

In your brainstorming Tuesday media column: better journalism through crack, a Bob Schieffer vacation, Hugh Hefner gets sued, a star-studded media kid bar mitzvah, and newspapers discover a rich new source of advertising.

On True/Slant, former Newsweek correspondent Michael Hastings says more journalists should smoke crack. Specifically: "I recommend it for all writers to try at least once, especially to New Yorker staffers. It's pretty good–it's crack, after all–and down the crack pipe went my first semester at college. But torching a crack rock is very different from typing a Tweet." What the fuck is he talking about? Read this whole thing and find out!

Looking for a vacation idea? Why not travel to Texas Christian University, where you can now view Bob Schieffer's Vietnam-era correspondence with fellow Fort Worth Star-Telegram employees? Hey, we asked you a question.

A Playboy shareholder has filed a lawsuit against Hugh Hefner alleging the old fucker has screwed shareholders along with his many creepy girlfriends. All future reporting on this story will feature some variation of that sentence.

Guess what CNBC president Mark Hoffman is getting his son for his bar mitzvah? That's right, a video featuring Brian Williams, Jim Cramer, and Derek Jeter, who will all presumably be doing something. Are they even Jewish? Mark Hoffman of CNBC, tenuous religious video-commissioner.

Newsroom staffers at the Minneapolis Star-Tribune pooled their own money and bought an ad in their own paper honoring the 1,000 of their colleagues that have been laid off since 2007. Perhaps this is the revenue stream that will save newspapers!

Jay Leno's Experimental Phase is Over [Late-Night Wars]

Ryan Tate — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 14:34:52 EST

After five months, Jay Leno leaves prime time tonight, returning his "magic" to late night.

The Lonely Faces of Five Minutes on Chat Roulette [Gallery]

Richard Lawson — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 14:17:00 EST

So have you checked out this Chat Roulette thing? It's like Omegle, sudden instant e-chats with a stranger, only this time there's video and audio (which can both be turned off for anonymous browsing). Click, get a person, repeat.

Curious about what the whole fuss was about, we spent exactly five minutes this afternoon (for this we are paid!) flipping through, and being flipped through. Who's on the strange, sad thing? Well, your typical gay dudes looking for action. There are also a few depressingly cheap, Eastern Bloc-looking porn ads. But mostly it's just lonely-looking people — in sweaters, wearing glasses, with dogs barking in the background, looking expectant, looking worried, looking bored. Chat Roulette, to us, isn't titillating in the way we thought it might be. Instead it's just a sort of bleak, Alexander Payne-esque reminder of the tedium of life. It's just people sitting, waiting for something to happen. And, you know, one guy jerking off. (Couldn't get that screenshot fast enough, sadly).

Map of a Divided Facebook [InfoPorn]

Ryan Tate — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 14:07:26 EST

Did you know "God" is the most popular Facebook fan page in every southern U.S. state? The West Coast elites, meanwhile, like Michael Jackson, Barack Obama and Starbucks. Above: a map of Pete Warden's social network census, via ReadWriteWeb.

The Jersey Shore Guidos to Tape Season Two in South Beach [Shore Thing]

Brian Moylan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 13:56:12 EST

Movieline has the great scoop that round two for the greatest sociological experiment of our time will take place in South Beach, Miami. MTV has already rented a house and is installing the duck phone right now!

Miami was a top contender for the new location and TMZ even got their paws on a letter from the production company making the snow and the famous Mynt lounge in Miami asking if they would be able to film there in upcoming months. Now Movieline confirms they will be filming there and living in a house off of Lincoln Road that is already being decked out with Italian flags and hopefully a gym, tanning bed, and washing machine so they can get their GTL on without going anywhere. The cast was in town for the Super Bowl over the weekend and took a tour of the town by boat yesterday. When Snooki tweeted she was moving to Miami we thought it was an empty threat mean to terrorize the poor citizens of the Southern town. Little did we know that she was serious and they would start filming in May.

The Stripper Party Pics the Google Elite Didn't Want You to See [Geeks Gone Wild]

Ryan Tate — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 13:55:45 EST

Google engineer and San Francisco partyboy Orkut Büyükkökten's wild housewarming may have been packed with internet billionaires like Sergey Brin last Saturday, but online pictures were reportedly forbidden. And yet here are snapshots of strippers and nude sculpture.

Google co-founder Brin and search products VP Marissa Mayer helped christen co-worker Orkut's tenth-floor penthouse on San Francisco's Mint Plaza this past weekend, as we reported yesterday. It turns out co-founder Larry Page may have been there too; his model/Ph.D wife Lucy Southworth certainly was. At the time, we couldn't obtain more than one picture of the event, in part because, according to two tipsters with knowledge of the party, social network founder Orkut told guests not to circulate pictures online. That no doubt had something to do with the "several billionaires" reportedly in attendance.

Inevitably, though, some shots have emerged from the dark corners of Facebook, the Google rival that seems to have something of a lock on the world's most interesting information, at least to gossips like us. (Thank you, tipster who emailed us most of these pics.)

It would appear Orkut wasted no time breaking in his "custom-built party loft," complete (we hear) with elevated dance floor, poles, disco balls, dance lights and an indoor waterfall. There were the male and female strippers, who we're told were professionals. There was a male nude that appears to be an ice sculpture (or maybe glass?). There was a shimmery metal see-through curtain thing, like you might see used as a room divider in a lounge. And there was a logo devoted to Orkut and husband Derek Holbrook.

It was an effort befitting Orkut, whose past fabulousness has included opening Prada, going to BFF Mayer's Sex And The City party, staging disco parties, and appearing in more forbidden pictures, sometimes with strippers. Why he wants to keep all this fun a secret is beyond us. Didn't he hear privacy is dead?

Saturday's party:

We're told these adult dancers are professional. And they're in a professional venue: The poles, stage, lights and disco ball are an integral part of Orkut's new penthouse party pad.

Orkut's husband Derek, on the pole. Oh my.

So it looks like either there was a second lady stripper, or a guest decided to join in the fun.

The guest on the left is Mayer's husband Zach Bogue, only recently taken off the market. In other words: He can look, but he can't touch. On the right, Orkut's brother.

The nude (ice?) sculpture, shot one, from Facebook.

The nude (ice?) sculpture, shot two, which we found yesterday on Twitter but weren't sure it was from this party.

Derek & Orkut. Awwwww. Now back to the strippers!

Ya, it's blurry. But you try taking a surreptitious stripper shot at a party you don't want to get thrown out of.

"Dancer for money, do what you want me to do..."

Metal curtain for the full "club" effect.

Hubby Derek with Larry Page's model/Ph.D wife Lucy Southworth, far right.

This guy is Rhett Butler. Like, literally.

The host, center, with two guests: record producer Jimmy Markee (left) and Yelp account executive Eli Zepeda (right) (Names?)

New York City Manages to Ruin Tomorrow's Snow Day for All the Little Children [Sad Things]

Brian Moylan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 13:31:34 EST

Due to the ominous forecast for tomorrow, New York City has already ordered a preemptive snow day for public schools. Great way to rob these children of one of the greatest feelings that they'll ever have, Bloomberg.

One of the immense joys of childhood was waking up in the morning to look out the window and see a world covered in white, pristine snow then waiting anxiously around the breakfast table to hear whether or not school had been canceled. As the towns (or counties) canceling classes for the day would scroll across the bottom of the screen, we could barely even shovel Cap'n Crunch into our mouths just waiting, waiting to see the name of our school slapped on the television giving us the brilliant freedom of a day off. Calling school off a day early destroys the whole experience.

The problem with letting everyone know about the cancellation in advance is it ruins all the fantastic feelings of anticipation (Related: the sad adult version). Knowing that they're going to have an unexpected holiday, the kids will sleep in the next day and probably procrastinate their homework until Wednesday night. They'll wake up in the morning, already knowing they have nothing to do, but with the dread of the impending work hanging over the festivities like a heavy film of immovable ice coating a windshield.

When you have to wait until the morning, homework would always get done the night before, just in case the snow didn't come. (Waking up to a normal world when you thought there'd surely be a blizzard is one of the worst feelings of childhood.) An early start was mandatory, because the announcement had yet to be made. A potential snow day was like a mini Christmas morning, lying in bed nervously waiting to see whether or not the school superintendent would play Santa Claus, giving us the gift of a day with nothing to do but tire ourselves out running around in the cool, wet goodness, sledding down hills, building forts, having snowball fights, and warming up our pink toes while watching The Price is Right. The mandatory early rise waiting for the good news meant plenty of daylight to burn while exploring the winter wonderland.

Being a kid can suck sometimes, they don't have any money, they can't make any decisions on their own, and they aren't even old enough to drink. One of the one unadulterated blisses were these little tastes of freedom without any stress or obligation, with nothing to do buy enjoy oneself and literally seize the day before going back to petty tyranny of Mrs. Laferrier and her stupid vocabulary words and equations the next day. Thanks to weather forecasting technology, the news-show-indunced paranoia of the modern age, and mean mean city officials, even while the snow day lives, it is a sad crippled version of what it could be. Next time the forecast carries a truckload of flakes to dump on the city, do all the kids a favor and make them wait. Anything less is practically criminal

[Image via Getty]

Lost Tease: What Kate Didn't Do? [Lossssst]

Richard Lawson — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 13:11:00 EST

Tonight's episode is called "What Kate Does," an obvious recall of the season two episode "What Kate Did," wherein we found out who Kate killed. Though, a curious video from last summer's ComicCon suggests that history may have changed...

Yes, that's the real John Walsh, talking about the fake Kate Austen's murderous crime. Remember that she blew up her mean old daddy in that house? Well... huh. This version of history seems to indicate that Kate didn't actually kill her dad, rather one of his innocent coworkers. So. Does the weird alternate future we were presented with last week come fully loaded with an alternate past? Just what the H-E-double fuckysticks is going on here? We doubt we'll really find out tonight. Sigh. [via EW]

How to Destroy a Perfectly Good Fake Trend Story [Trendwatch]

Hamilton Nolan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 13:06:02 EST

We all know that New York Times fake trend stories are annoying because they are 1) fake, and 2) trend stories. But do not neglect their third worst quality: many are terribly written. Allow us to show you.

The underlying cause of the poorest-written portions of most fake trend stories is the insistence by NYT editors that every fake trend story have some sort of "stats" graf—a graf that attempts to force a clearly made-up premise into an empirically justifiable form. Since fake trend stories are, by definition, pure bullshit, this requirement often results in the most tortured or transparently ridiculous part of what could have been a perfectly decent story, had it been upfront about its total lack of journalistic merit. Examples:

The Run-On Nightmare: The NYT's in-house grammar scold highlights this (14 verb forms in one sentence!), from last month's "Hipsters are living in cold apartments" piece:

As Americans across the country wrestle with spouses and their thermostats over how low to go - as they join contests like Freeze Yer Buns, now in its third year, a challenge posed by Deanna Duke, a Seattle-based environmental blogger who calls herself the Crunchy Chicken, to lower the thermostat to around 55 degrees, or follow the lead of the Maine couple trying to live comfortably in a furnace-free house and blogging about it in their Cold House Journal - there are those who are living nearly without heat by choice, and doing just fine, thank you very much.
The Unsupported Anecdote-to-Wide Angle Pivot: From September's "Everybody is jogging with their babies now" fitness piece:

Mrs. Keith is an extreme example of an increasingly common breed of runner: parents who hit the road with their offspring in jogging strollers, typically single or double versions with two 16-inch inflatable tires in back and a single tire in front.

But, experts say, there is a learning curve to running with a stroller.
The Futile Attempt to Disprove Its Own Acknowledgment of Preposterousness: From Guy Trebay's lively exposé of the Hamptons t-shirt industry:

It's not exactly news that clothes denote status, but in beachside communities, where even corporate raiders and United States senators slope around in flip-flops and board shorts, the signs of inclusion among local elites are more challenging to convey. And, while there is no formalized uniform to identify which group one belongs to, a lot can be read in an item that upon a time was worn as underclothes.
The Improper Use of 'More Than Likely:' From Allen Salkin's mathematical proof that New York's young white comedians flock to Astoria, Queens, just like "creatures that flourish at certain warm depths of a coral reef but not a foot deeper where the water is colder:"

Thanks to cheap rents that allow time for writing, ample parking that makes road trips to out-of-town clubs easy and a myriad of other comedian-lifestyle perks, it has become more than likely that if you meet a comedian outside a New York City club, he (most of them are men) will tell you he lives in the Queens neighborhood better known as a gold mine of Greek restaurants.

New York Times editors: Please stop torturing your writers, and their readers. Let bullshit be bullshit.
[Pic via]

Hooray, The New Republic Has Decided Someone Is an Antisemite [Cranks]

Pareene — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 12:49:55 EST

Uh oh! Former New Republic editor Andrew Sullivan posted a quote about The New Republic on his blog, without context. Time for a 4,300-word essay on how he hates the Jews!

"Displaced and unglossed quotations are always in some way mordant, and bristle smugly with implications," longtime New Republic literary editor and old crank Leon Wieseltier says. "Let us see what this one implies." Oh, let's!

The subject of the quote is The Trinity. The quote is by W. H. Auden, who was British and, for like a couple years, Catholic. Sullivan is British and very Catholic. Wieseltier acknowledges that, indeed, he does not understand The Trinity. But that is beside the point, because the point is that Sullivan was totally Jew-baiting.

Another time, on his blog, Sullivan noted that while most American Jews are liberal, there exist a couple prominent right-wing Jews who routinely issue opinions on international politics that would probably be fairly objectionable to the Liberal Jews. This is very antisemitic.

As far as I can tell, Krauthammer's position on torture is owed to a deep and sometimes frantic concern for American security, and his position on the war in Gaza to a deep and sometimes frantic concern for Israeli security, and his position on Iran to a deep and sometime frantic concern for American and Israeli security. Whatever the merits of his views, I do not see that his motives are despicable.

So. Charles Krauthammer supports torture and nuking Iran, yes, but for very good reasons. It is therefore rank antisemitism to call him despicable, even if you happen to have a very strong moral conviction that fucking torture is despicable. Oh, but Krauthammer presents his despicable views dispassionately, with arguments, while Sullivan offers only "feelings as ideas." You may personally feel (but be careful—feeling is not as important as arguing) that dressing up morally reprehensible ideas with pseudo-intellectual justifications is, in fact, among the worst crimes a supposed public intellectual can commit, but you probably hate Jews too.

Wiesteltier goes on to conflate criticism of Israeli policies with criticisms of Jews as a whole while complaining that it's not appropriate for Sullivan to make generalized statements like calling concern for human rights a "Jewish virtue." Only Jews can write critical things about Israel and it's antisemitic to say that Jews who write about Israel are writing about it as Jews.

Also: "there is no such thing as Jewish fundamentalism," Leon says. And you might say, whaaaa?? Don't worry, he has a perfectly sensible and non-tautological proof:

The settlers on the West Bank and the religious fascists in their midst are not fundamentalists. They represent a particular school of interpretation of scriptural and rabbinical authorities–a debatable one and a deplorable one. But they are not fundamentalists.

Right. Sure. Let's try that argument out the next time Marty Peretz writes something about those darned Muslims: "Islamic extremists are terrible fascists, but there is no such thing as Islamic fundamentalism, because they are not fundamentalists."

The crime is not that Sullivan is a conspiracist who thinks a cabal of Jews controls American foreign policy—that is insane. The crime is that Sullivan fucking criticizes Israel at all, without being a Jew. (Wieseltier is allowed to say mildly critical things about Netanyahu and call the settlers fascists because he is a member of the Tribe and he writes for The New Republic, which will only criticize Israel in occasional asides in the middle of articles on Those Terrible Liberal Antisemites or Those Terrible Muslims.) And you can accuse Andrew Sullivan of being emotional, inconsistent, and generally goofy (and you can complain about his hysterical post-9/11 writings, which Leon brings up purely to find something actually objectionable to object to, or the egregiously racist bullshit he published as editor of The New Republic, which Leon does not bring up), but to say that because he thinks the settlements should be dismantled and he finds Charles fucking Krauthammer objectionable that he is an antisemite is bullshit of the highest order. (Not that we're surprised! Leon Wieseltier is a first-class bullshit artist! He consistently provides totally quality zingers slathered in the finest aged bullshit.)

Meanwhile, TNR publisher and on-again, off-again owner Marty Peretz posts something racist enough to make Tom Tancredo blush almost weekly. Like, explicitly so. You don't actually need deep readings of his extensive archives to find evidence of implicit racist motives. He just lets it all hang loose.

Kell on Earth: For Whom the Kell Tolls [Recaps]

Brian Moylan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 12:17:21 EST

We were so busy buying bread and toilet paper for the impending snowstorm that we missed Kell on Earth last night. Luckily fictional freelancer Betsey Morgenstern was there during the filming, so she filled us on what happened.

The Emu, The Witch, and the Wardrobe Malfuction
By Betsey Morgenstern

Last we left off, the computer glitch I hacked into Kelly Cutrone's computer system at People's Revolution PR caused the lists for the Shadow Ralph Pucci show to print out all wrong and Little Stephanie was freaking out and about to cry and Kelly was all, "If you have to cry, cry outside," and I just laughed and laughed. Hahaha. That's what Betsey said.

It's an hour before the show and the client is demanding the list and the seating chart but because they can't print the list out, we're totally screwed. But Kelly is a cool character and she has a solution. We're handwriting out the lists and filling in the blanks and, instead of having a paper list that's wrong, she has us bring all our computers to the site so that we can use the list that's in the database that is correct. God, Kelly does think quick on her feet.

I'm still pissed at Little Stephanie and don't want this to go smoothly at all, so I formulate a plan. I get on Craigslist and some of the fashion blogs and leave this post:

Hey everyone, I work for the PR company that does the Shadow Ralph Pucci show and there aren't nearly enough people coming tonight and we need bodies to fill the seats badly. Just show up at 7pm in the tents and tell the girl at the desk that Stephanie put you on the list. They'll give you a seat to see the show. You'll get some fashion, and we'll get a full house. Everyone wins!

We get to the venue and hell is breaking loose at the front door. While Kelly scampers around backstage me and seven other black-clad PR girls are trying to work the door. They're checking people on the computer and writing out seat assignments for everyone who is supposed to be there. That's what we were supposed to do at least. I wasn't even looking people up I was just putting them in random seats, let Kelly figure it out inside.

That's when all the dummies from the internet started showing up demanding seats, even though they weren't even invited. Emily was freaking out about how all these nobodies were just arriving and trying to fool their way into a show. She was all, "Who are these people? Who told them they could do this." I didn't dare answer, I just smiled and said, "People can be such assholes."

Things were getting horrible for Kelly inside, I heard her over the radio saying that Ralph Pucci was getting all upset because there were photographers backstage and he was bitching about them being too close and then they would go away and he would bitch that there was no one taking his picture and then they would come and he would be like "Get those idiots away from me. I am an artiste!" Kelly decided to leave and help sort out the mess with the seating, kicking people out of the front row who thought they were supposed to sit there. Oops! Was that my fault? One guy even gave her all this attitude and when she said, "I'm sorry, you can't sit here," he was all, "You should be sorry!" I was ready for Kelly to throw him to the ground and punch him in the face, but I have learned in my short time working for her that she is much more professional than you would imagine.

The show itself went well, but everything else was just a mess. Kelly got fired the next day. When she found out she hung up the phone with a loud bang and cursed and swore. At the intern desk nearby, I just hung my head low so that my hair would cover my face as I giggled while attaching 61-cent stamps to envelopes that only needed 44-cent stamps. That's wasting 21 cents an envelope. See, Big Stephanie is in charge of the interns and she is basically an emu. She's tall and slender and her head darts around in random directions, but she doesn't do much of anything. Also her brain is the size of two peanuts squished together. After spending 20 minutes showing everyone how to use a phone (which, duh), she then told us to mail all these invitations to the Generations Denim presentation that was happening the next week. I asked, "Stephanie, which stamps do we use?"

She said, "No one told me so, I don't know."

"Well, then we should use the more expensive ones so that we're sure they get there, right?"

"I was given no direction, so I don't know."

"OK, then I'm going to use the more expensive ones."

"I'm not going to tell you to do that so I don't get blamed, but I'm not not going to tell you to
do that either."

Of course 20 minutes later Emily tells her that she should use 44-cent stamps so then we have to peel all the 61-cent stamps off and put them back onto the little sheet the come on and put on the 44-cent stamps. Oh, it's such a joy working with Big Emu Stephanie.

I swear to god I would have quit by now if it weren't for Tim, the hot Irish fellow intern who I always flirt with at work. We had a real run in a few days after the stamp incident. We were all in the office and Little Stephanie went with Little Andrew to get her roots touched up, and Big Stephanie had us sending out gift bags full of jeans to all the editors who would be going to the Generations Denim fashion presentation. We asked B.S. what to do and she said, "I don't know, but they need to go out now. So do them now. Just do them." So Tim picks up a sharpie and starts writing all the editors names on the bag. Mary was taking the jeans off the shelf, Sally was folding them, Sam was opening the bag, Harry was placing the jeans in the bag, and I was putting the bags on the floor. We had a whole system. That is until Kelly shows up in the room and sees the nasty tattered bags with loose jeans in them.

"This isn't how you send a gift," she screamed. We told her that Big Stephanie told us to send them out right away but didn't tell us how, and she called everyone together and gave us a big lecture about how we're going to fuck up her business and then she and her daughter will be out on the street and will have no food and her daughter will have no clothes, so she and her daughter can't go through her closet and play "back to school looks" like she is the star of an eight-year-old fashion show. Anyway, she tells us to take a 30 minute break because she needs her space.

I make sure that I'm walking out next to Tim. "Hey, Tim, that was really harsh back there."

"I knoooow," he brogues. "I dinna want to upset Kella. I feel realla baaa."
I kind of have no idea what he is saying, but as the strange syllables pour out of his beautiful mouth, I start to get a little horny. And we do have 30 minutes to do whatever we want."Hey, Tim, know what will make you feel better? Maybe we should have sex."

"That sounds fun. But where are we ginna gooo?"

"Let's just walk down Broadway a little bit. They have a public bathroom at Uniqlo. I'm sure they won't mind if we use that."

"Come on. That sounds like fin."

We went to the store and I had a little poke around with his shellaleigh and we scared a whole bunch of fat tourists from Florida, and it took way longer than I thought it would. What guy last 45 minutes in a public toilet? After we were done we had be gone from Kelly's for like an hour. When we got into the office, she was pissed.

"Tim, where the fuck have you been? I'm trying to run a business here. I said go for 30 minutes, I meant 30 minutes, not come back whenever the fuck you want. Where have you been?"

"Oh, Kella. I was, ah...I was ah...tryin' to call me mum. Yeah. She's rill worried about me, because I haven't called home in foreva, so I was tryin' to find a pay phone so I could call."

"Tim, that's so sweat," Kelly said. As soon as you mention mothers her sweet side comes out and she turns into a genuinely kind human being. Tim knew this, the only problem was that his mother died in a car crash when he was 12. "Call her now," Kelly insisted handing the phone toward him.

He didn't know what to do and just stood there. "Call me," I whispered out of the side of my mouth while pulling on his pant leg. He nodded like he heard me and I ran off to the bathroom and turned my phone on vibrate. When the phone rang, I put on my best Irish accent and started talking dirty to Tim. He really liked it, even though he had to pretend like he was talking to his mother. Then Kelly insisted on talking to me. I think my accent was good enough, and we giggled and cooed for a few minutes and Kelly was satisfied that she was a nice kind person and all was right with the world. It was a lot to go through for a shag, but Tim was really worth it.

When we got back into the intern room, everyone was pissed at Big Stephanie for getting us in trouble so we came up with a plan. The next day when we showed up for work and people asked if we knew we were supposed to work at the Generations denim show, we would all say, "No," so that Stephanie would get in trouble. The plan went off without a hitch, and Emily even cussed Stephanie out across the office for being an incompetent emu boob.

Of course, we all still ended up working at the presentation where the models just stood around in this room with a giant tree made out of recycled newspapers or some shit and the walls were covered in cardboard. In another room, Kelly created a rain fall effect by taking a bunch of Swarovski that her friend George Wayne, the Vanity Fair contributor had swallowed, shat out, and buffed back to a fine polish. One of the models in the room was named Maurice and I was going to have him. Before the show, I started to chat him up and he kept rebuffing me, telling me that there was no way he was going to sleep with some lowly PR girl and then he had the audacity to ask me to go get him a glass of water. What? Oh please, Maurice, better men then you have turned me down, and then to order me around.

Yes, I went to go get him his water, but I also stopped by my purse where I happened to have a spare rufie (don't ask) and slipped it into his drink. Actually, only half because who knows when I might need the rest. "Here you go, Maurice, dear. Enjoy." Of course, 20 minutes into the show, he totally passed out, taking down half of the George Wayne memorial Swarovski crystal curtain. I was hoping that he would have to like there half dead for the entire show, but Kelly is too good for me. She got the paramedics there, took care of Maurice and then got them out before anyone even noticed. One of these days, Kelly, I'm really going to fuck you up, but it appears today was not the day. Just you wait, Kelly. Just you wait.

Openly Gay Man Still Serving in the Military, World Does Not End [Gays Of War]

Richard Lawson — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 12:03:13 EST

Last we heard of Arabic-speaking National Guardsman Dan Choi, he had been discharged from the army for coming out on Rachel Maddow's MSNBC show. But now it appears the lieutenant has been called back to duty and rejoined his unit.

Choi was scheduled to speak at a National Gay and Lesbian Task Force summit last weekend, but sent regrets that he couldn't attend because he'd been called back up. He sent photos from the barracks, explaining that though he'd been issued discharge orders after a news-making trial, the process has not yet been finalized. So he's back! For now. Choi apparently has the support of his commander, and judging from the photos, he isn't making scared straight soldiers cry and feel ashamed of their naked bodies, nor is he making out with everyone while wearing a fabulous wig. He's just doing army stuff, like carrying a gun and, presumably, shooting it. So, military officially not destroyed.

[Bilerico]

Surgical Procedure Put to Nefarious Use [Scary Things]

Hamilton Nolan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 11:57:02 EST

Getting laser eye surgery to become a better "street marksman," and other real gangster news.

Diane von Furstenberg — [Pullquote]

Gabriel Snyder — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 11:39:07 EST

the designer on the sleeping arrangements with her husband, the happy-footed, presumed-gay media mogul Barry Diller, in the upcoming issue of Page Six Magazine.

Science: Yellow Is Nice [Colors]

Hamilton Nolan — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 11:37:45 EST

A new study finds that depressed people generally choose a shade of grey to represent their mood, while healthy people mostly choose yellow. This proves that Harold Ford is healthy! Nice try, John Cook! [Science Daily. Click to enlarge]

RuPaul's Drag Race: Miss Tyra If You Nasty [Recaps]

Richard Lawson — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 11:33:00 EST

Girrrrrrrrrl. Episode two of RuPaul's beautiful gift from the thin slip of heaven that still remains has come and gone, and we still don't know just what the hell we're watching. But it's OK. We'll watch it anyway.

No offense meant to the Logo network or anything, but is this the lowest-budget television show in the history of television shows? I think Robin Byrd has more to spend each week than this program does. There is a lady on public access in Newton, MA who literally puts kittens on an electric lazy Susan and talks about them as they spin around and around, and I'm pretty sure her budget is slightly higher than the few tarnished shekels that Ru is given every week to put her little carnival together.

But maybe that's kind of intentional? I mean, part of the extremely odd charm of the show — which is equal parts charm and strange sexual menace — is that it looks like it was filmed in some drag queen's basement. Mostly because it was. And you just have like a heap of wigs in the corner and an old Sanyo boombox tinnily playing some old '90s standards (En Vogue! Crystal Waters! Late/Mid-Career Annie Lennox!) and then RuPaul's mom comes down with some laundry and is like "Oh, don't mind me boys. Do you need anything? Ya hungry?" And all the drag queens say, in unison "No thank you, Mrs. Paul." And then a few people smoke some meth and that's the episode. It's all pretty cute. Pretty strange, but pretty cute.

Anyway! This episode was all about hooking. Hooking and stripping. Really! These drag queens adore the working girl, be she diva or disheveled. So in came RuPaul on one of those mechanized stair-chairs (I wish) and she told all them queens that it was time to do a makeover... on a Barbie doll! Well, OK, I don't think it was actually a Mattel product, but it was some sort Barbie-esque figure modeled after RuPaul. There was a sad little pile of fabric and, in teams of two, the girls were to construct a ho outfit for this doll that was created for a very specific subset of adult males. There was a mad scramble of claws and fists and elbows as everyone lunged for the cloth, and then a feverish bout of very serious designing. With hot glue guns and glitter and I think some elbow macaroni and not but a few popsicle sticks.

Seriously guys. One of the challenges on a reality show on television was to just do a doll makeover. A makeover, on a doll. My sister and I used to do that when we were eight and six years old. Chop off the doll's hair and then regret it terribly, because it will never grow back. One time we had one of the black Barbies, Christy I think her name was, and my sister cut her hair sooo well. It looked like Oprah's hair. We were very happy with that. But usually? It comes out gross and sad, and those mangled short-haired dolls become the scorned rejects in whatever story you're imagining for them that day. (But none so scorned as the one we just called Legless, who had, in addition to a terrible haircut, one leg missing. A few years later, her hand was chewed off by the dog and a couple hours later, my mother tells me, there was a lone, grotesque doll hand poking up out of his poop, like someone trying to escape their grave.) Anyway. The point is: This was on a television show last night. Doll makeovers. It's wonderful! But it's also sort of terrible.

In the end only one team could emerge victorious and that was Pandora Boxx and Sahara Davenport (I think?) Though many of the dolls were bashed up, missing teeth and the like, theirs was the worst. They broke that poor plastic bitch's heels and everything. I guess RuPaul appreciates a bashed-up ho. So, good for them.

They then got to be team captains for the next big challenge, which involved stripper poles and burlesque and selling cherry pie coupons on the street. Yes, selling coupons like those kids who'd sign up for those ads in the back of Archie comics or something similar about how to sell oven mitts and steak knives door-to-door in order to win cash or points toward a new Huffy or Nintendo home entertainment system. Except these girls were just selling coupons for cherry pies at some random cafe down the corner. The girls were straight up yelling at people walking down the sidewalk, wrapping themselves unsexily around lampposts, and doing awkward splits. I don't think they sold much cherry pie.

While one team was hoofing it in full drag gear down on the strip, the other ladies were performing an afternoon "burlesque" show at a club. Earlier they'd learned how to do the stripper pole from two "burlesque" performers. Oh and the best part about the stripper poles? They had a sponsor. Ru was like "two poles, courtesy of Paul's Pole Palace" or some shit. Logo, girl, you need to reassess your portfolio if you need a sponsor to pay for two raggedy stripper poles. But anyway. Everyone was pretty into this challenge, because it's fun to pretend to be a hooker or stripper if you're not actually a hooker or stripper, except for one person. Tyra is one of the prettiest queens, but, lady, she is also so nasty. Not like gross nasty. Plain old mean nasty. And lazy. She just stood there while things were sewn for her, choreographed for her, and, uh, poled for her. She wouldn't even take a single lesson from the nice stripper, excuse me burlesque, ladies!

Tyra was also snippy to all the other contestants. I mean, all the contestants are terribly snippy to each other, but Tyra is the worst by far. She know she pretty, she know she young, and that's all that matters I suppose. But I do not like her attitude. She probably won't get voted off any time soon, even though she's mean and lazy (Ru caught her napping!), because she's pretty and, I suppose, provides necessary entertainment value. But if I ever meet her in a dark alley... Well, I'll probably run scared in the other direction.

So after the girls had done their pole routines — writhing and jiggling and stretching and, I'll admit, looking surprisingly competent for the most part — it was time for judgment. I do so love the judging parts because I'm pretty sure the girls are getting made up by professionals, or at least they have better lighting, so they all look wayyy better than they do in the challenges. Plus we get to hear Ru's gonzo color commentary as the girls come strutting down the runway. I can't remember any specifics, but her puns just get weirder and weirder, with stranger and more delightfully strained references. She's like "Oohhh girl! Pandora Boxx is bringin' tulips to Amsterdam tonight, honey!" Or, "Ohhh lawwwd no! Tatianna just signed the Treaty of Versigh with that number!" "The dingo sure didn't eat Raven's baby today, chile!" It's just so weird and terrific. RuPaul should be the voice for so very many things. "Oh heavens girl, put in your damn pin number!" "Your balance is a raggedy three hundred dollars!" "Baby, I think this is 8th Street/NYU, but lady I don't know for sure. Next stop is Prince Street. Heyyyyyyy. Watch them doors, girl!"

My two favorites this week were: 1. Raven. Even though she is a straight up mean old crab, she looks so striking with her eagle-eye makeup and stern, chopped wigcuts. 2. Sonique! I was so surprised by Sonique this... wique. Last episode she didn't stand out at all, but this go around she looked pretty and terrific. All cool beauty and pursed lips. Plus she's definitely the best looking out of drag, so that doesn't hurt.

Alas because she had the second-lowest tips, Raven was forced to Lip-Sync for Her Life, alongside the kind of painfully sad Nicole Paige Brooks. Something about Nicole tells me that she was maybe something of a big, old fish in a small, also old pond? But out in the bigger world, matched up against some 21-year-old thang in a big bubble wig, her skinny minimalism just doesn't do the trick. Plus she barely even seemed to try during the lip-sync. Raven was busting around with funny little bits and moves, while Nicole just sorta stood there and... lip-synced. Snoozer. Understandably, she went home. Which is good. She seemed nice, but her presence was just increasingly awkward. She seemed a little desperate in an unpleasant way. Who knows. At least now she can go back to her son. Yes, son. Again with another son on this show. Curiousssss!

Girl, I think that's it? Huh? What's that Ru?

"Fool, if you wanna make a call, please hang UP the damn phone and try that shit again. And don't fuck it up!"

Thanks, Ru.