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Yes, 'tis that awkward time of year, the chronological taint between Christmas and New Year, usually given off as a freebie thank you for a year of hard work. Not Gawker Media, though, where the electrified ankle restraints are never removed, not even for our bi-weekly alley hosings! Still, in the name of Jesus love, the corporate mothership has decided to let one of us free into the wilderness, equipped with a Bowie knife and a few day's head start, before setting after him in a caravan of Jeep Wranglers for a little New Year's Eve bloodsport. Run, Mark, run! Meanwhile, your trusty associate editor, weighed down by the greasy, starchy remnants of his ongoing latke gluttony-thon, will remain at the helm. And while the spirit of Christmas giving is dead and gone, remember, there's still four more nights of the Jewish festival of "associate editor appreciation." Just make sure to include a gift-receipt our oddly shaped body makes for some tricky sizing issues.