We've seen incest, rape and multi-position fucking with someone of questionable mental fitness, but thus far Game of Thrones has avoided gay intimacy. There was one scene last season where America's Next Top Throne Claimer Renly (played by the increasingly delectable Gethin Anthony) was shaved by his wife's brother, Loras, which culminated in an implied blowjob. And then last night, there was the failure to launch that you see above, with Loras getting all pissy over Renly making Brienne of Tarth a member of the King's Guard after she defeated Loras in a tussle. Blah blah blah blah Tarth. Keep the politics out of the bedroom, boys. The whole point of sex is that it lets you take your mind off of your ambition to rule (and serve the ruler) of your mythical pseudo medieval fairyworld. You become the master of your own private fairyworld, especially if you are gay.

Dear Pulitzer Prize Committee: what is the point of you? Though we enjoyed this year's editorial-writing and fiction trolling — how very internet of you, Pulitzer Prize Committee — you are still, basically, worthless, and, worse, boring. You need some kind of makeover. You need Ryan Seacrest to host the awards. You need new categories, Pulitzer Prize Committee. We have some suggestions:

A hydrophobic cat goes so far as to evolve temporary hands in order to safely cross a river without getting wet.

To bolster the poignancy of its anti-human-trafficking campaign on behalf of Stop the Traffik, Dutch ad agency Duval Guillaume Modem brought a bunch of female dancers to one of Amsterdam's well-known red-light districts, and had them pretend to be prostitutes putting on a show to attract as many passers-by as possible.

Last month, on one of those rogue, summer-like mid-March days (kind of like the summer-like mid-April day we're experience in New York), I smoked a little something and made my way out into the blazing sun with the Addison Groove's Transistor Rhythm in my ears. At one point, the sensory overload had me nearly hallucinating. I didn't see or hear anything that wasn't there, but reality started to feel like reality was melting, only to be sucked back into shape seconds later. I'm not saying that's what will happen to you if you listen to this, I'm just saying try it. (But don't do drugs.)

Your 2012 Pulitzer Prize winners have been announced! [Pause.] That very faint sound you hear is the cheering of a dozen or so newsrooms across America, interspersed with the vast silence of a nation that could not care less about the 2012 Pulitzer Prize winners.

Warning: Spoilers ahead.

In making the unending publicity rounds for Girls, co-star Allison Williams has been peddling a YouTube discovery myth: Producer Judd Apatow, the tale goes, happened to come across a video of her singing a self-produced mash-up of the theme song to Mad Men in October 2010 and immediately knew that she was the actress to play Marnie, Lena Dunham's uptight girlfriend.

Accompanied by fourth wife Kayte Walsh, a "casually dressed" Kelsey Grammer walked into a tattoo parlor located in Chicago's West Town this past Saturday to get his first taste of ink.

Google has been placing more and more crap around search results, which is very annoying, but it turns out this crapification may work out quite well for the giant internet company. That's reportedly because people can't really tell anymore what's a Google advertisement and what's a Google search result, turning the simple act of internet searching into a confusing profitable mess.

Lester Breslow, the man whose good health advice you ignore, passed away last Monday at the ripe old-age of 97. How? Mostly by following his own advice.

A UCLA study published in the most recent issue of the online journal PLoS ONE has determined that men armed with guns appear taller and more muscular than men without weapons.

Today is Ian MacKaye's 50th birthday so I guess it's as good a time as any to realize you hate young people. Girls is a television program about the children of wealthy famous people and shitty music and Facebook and how hard it is to know who you are and Thought Catalog and sexually transmitted diseases and the exhaustion of ceaselessly dramatizing your own life while posing as someone who understands the fundamental emptiness and narcissism of that very self-dramatization. This is a recap of it.

Kane the Dogue de Bordeaux wants to know if the Dogue de Bordeaux in the mirror is talking to him because if not then who the hell else is he talking to since he's the only one there.

Hey, young cohabiting couples: An article in Sunday's New York Times says you're all doomed to fail. Unsurprisingly, this is currently the most-shared thing on their website. But this is one of those articles you can't just share willy-nilly, as the passive-aggressive message conveyed by the act of sharing is actually more important than the content of the article itself.

This past Saturday, the small Central American country of El Salvador celebrated its first homicide-free day since leftist president Mauricio Funes assumed control nearly three years ago.

Do me a favor: do not stand in the walkway. Stand off to the side there. Don't stand right in the middle of the sidewalk. Don't stand right in the middle of the steps. Don't stand right in the middle of the escalator. Don't stand right in the middle of that path, the main one, where everyone is walking.

How do you babyproof a house against a 10-month-old who can do pull ups? That's the question YouTuber treaangel asked herself when she spotted baby Jonas trying to lift himself off the floor to get a closer look at the computer screen.

New Yorkers! This summer, don't stand on a pier and be deafened by a PA the size of a Water Taxi! Don't sit on a pile of sticks directly behind a gigantic tree as your favorite band plays a football-field-length away! Instead, go to the Governors Ball—a legitimate music festival with all the trimmings taking place within your city's borders, on a fantastical place covered in green, green grass known as Randall's Island.

Carnival Films, the studio behind popular period drama Downton Abbey, issued a statement categorically denying a Daily Mail report that actress Maggie Smith asked to be written out of the show so she could focus on her film and stage careers.