James Surowiecki writes that piece we know you party-mavens always pass right over in each New Yorker: the financial page. I know, it's a lot of big scary words. But there are reasons why you shouldn't deprive yourself any longer.

First of all, James Surowiecki is who comes to mind when a group of women are sharing war stories from the dating battles, drooped over their last cocktail of the night. The checklist on Surowiecki: talented, smart, great job, gorgeous, innate fashion sense, and heterosexual. His suits have the proper lapel width. Ding ding ding.

Of course he has a long-time girlfriend. But as we all know, those can be killed. (We kid! She's lovely and talented, too. Of course.)

Surowiecki, however, isn't just the Fortune and Forbes Money Honey; consider his detailed analysis of the new Joan Didion in the latest Bookforum, or his sensitive guy piece in Salon a few years back. The man wrote for Lingua Franca for chrissakes.

Superstar Surowiecki in this week's New Yorker: primatology and fairness at work in the stock market scandal.
The Coup de Grasso [New Yorker]