This image was lost some time after publication, but you can still view it here.

From deep within the platinum-glazed walls of the Cond Nast cafeteria, a reader sends word of a possible health crisis:

I work at Cond Nast and, as a straight guy, there are a lot of things about 4 Times Square that I find strange and amusing. Well, yesterday I saw the strangest. While in line at the grill station, I spotted S.I. Newhouse ambling around the caf wearing his standard lime green sweatshirt and khaki outfit. All of a sudden he makes a beeline to the salad bar and — with his bare hands — reaches down and grabs a fistful of edamame, shunning the tongs and spoon entirely (such things are just decorative for Masters of the Universe). I was a little too stunned to notice if he then just stuffed his catch into his pocket or if he sought out a plate, but it made an impression on me nonetheless. I guess if you own the building and everyone in it, these types of things are your prerogative.

Gross? Maybe, but the Governor of Glossy hasn't the time for your silly, plebeian utensils.