Alright, it was cute when Republican base trolled us with the Trump, Bachmann, Perry, and Cain surges and collapses (surglapses, we'll call them, or perhaps anti-boners), but throwing Newt Gingrich onto the heap of other Potemkin candidates after he was leading by 20 points everywhere like a week ago, this late in the process, is cruel.

José Angel Santana is suing New York University because he claims he lost his job as a professor of film studies for giving notorious class sleeper James Franco a D. It sounds like Franco deserved it.

Kim Jong-Il's successor is his youngest son, Kim Jong-un. It's time to meet the most powerful twenty-something in the world: an enigmatic basketball fanatic and four-star general with a bad case of fat cheeks and an itchy trigger finger.

Peter Braunstein was a former writer for The Village Voice, WWD and other New York publications who became a tabloid sensation in 2005 after he went crazy, raped a woman [Correction: Braunstein was convicted of kidnapping, sexual abuse, robbery and burglary. He was never charged with rape], and went on the run. Aaron Gell (now an editor at the New York Observer), a former colleague of Braunstein's, has revisited the man and tried to make sense of his crimes in his new Kindle Single, Speak of the Devil: How Peter Braunstein went from Fashion Casualty to Tabloid Monster.

In an effort to answer the question, "what could possibly make the act of traveling by plane worse without violating the Geneva Conventions," KLM is rolling out a new feature next year that will allow you to choose your seatmate. Through Facebook!

What's your favorite part of the holidays? Is it the way everyone temporarily pretends to like each other? The non-denominational exclamations of goodwill? The presents? The mistletoe?!

Meet David Friedlander and Jacqueline Schmidt. They live in Brooklyn, and recently got married. Because they "did not want their wedding 'to be just about us,'" they "pitched their wedding to the media," then forced all guests to participate in a self-indulgent display of competitive do-gooder-ism.

Well well well, it seems that The History Channel is a big cable success story. The fifth most popular channel on all of cable! Only trails ESPN among middle aged men! How has The History Channel done it? By having nothing to do with history, or "true" things at all!

Tupac Shakur's singing blowjob sex tape (with a non-sexual Money B cameo!) is off the market, purchased by a "private collector," TMZ reports. This is mysterious and strange for at least six reasons. But first, a refresher on what the tape entails:

Everyone is a twittering that Marc Jacobs has landed himself another gay porn paramour. This time it's Harry Louis, a Brazillian model famous for doing shoots dressed in suits and his other, um, gifts south of the equator. Marc Jacobs is so fucking lucky.

Have you reached the age of 23? Have you been arrested yet? If not, you are some sort of weirdo and/ or nerd. That is the scientific conclusion which must be draw from a new study that proves that getting arrested is no big deal now, mom, get off my back.

This big deal recording artist had to sleep with a man to get to where he is. This celeb couple loves to play with other famous pairs and these two costars don't talk on set. I guess sleeping with each other to get ahead is out of the question.

Here's a clip of North Koreans of all ages, openly and hysterically weeping in the streets over the death of Kim Jong-Il, broadcast on the same state media whose anchor broke down in tears while she read the news of the dictator's death. Seems like a healthy place, North Korea!

What a year it's been for Andrea Peyser, the sourpuss racist lesbian xenophobe sex fiend who serves as the conscience of New York City's most fascist tabloid. Today we are blessed with Andrea's "Year in Review" column, widely considered journalism's most exciting day after the Pulitzer Prizes. Equally looked-forward-to is our condensation of this column into readable form! Without further ado, we present The Shorter Version of Andrea Peyser's Year in Review Column, Which Is, Naturally, on the Topic of SIN:

You know, the one thing not missing from the Friday Night Lights series finale was the presence of a possessed golf cart mowing down the Permian Panthers' defensive line. The Spring Dekaney Wildcats were not so lucky: The Texan high school football team were barely able to celebrate their new state title when just such a berserk vehicle — like something out of a not-particularly-terrifying Stephen King novel! — sent the stadium into a panic. Everyone was okay, though, so it's all right to laugh. Hahaha! Runaway golf cart! [Buzzfeed]

With the death of Kim Jong-il, the world loses one of the greatest self-aggrandizing fantasists of all time. Here are ten of the craziest Jong-il stories floating out there:

Kim Jong-il, the fearsome, furtive, and fashion-forward leader of North Korea, is dead at age 69. This according to a weeping announcer on a "special broadcast" delivered on North Korean television on Monday. The Dear Leader was on a train traveling through Pyongyang during a "field guidance tour" at the time.

Thousands in Prague mourn the loss tonight of Velvet Revolutionary Vaclav Havel, who has died at age 75. Havel was a lifelong smoker with chronic respiratory problems, whose condition rapidly deteriorated in past months.

Another gruesome elevator death has shocked and terrified an already lift-phobic city. But this time it was no accident — as was the case with Wednesday's freak crushing of a 41-year-old ad executive at a Madison Ave. building — but rather a carefully premeditated act of murder perpetrated upon a 73-year-old Brooklyn woman. The term "coldblooded" here does not even begin to scratch the surface.

Here's retired Bishop/Occupy Wall Streeter George Packard ascending a ladder that takes him not to a higher spiritual level but to a vacant patch of land owned by Trinity Church. Occupiers want to convert Trinity's property into their next Zuccotti-like encampment—a plan that the church opposes because cleanliness is next to godliness, with emptiness not far behind.