President Bush drinks a (non-alcoholic) beer as he jokes about his non-plans to reduce carbon emissions with German chancellor Angela Merkel and British prime minister Tony Blair. Later Blair and Bush lamented the non-success of their war in Iraq. How they laughed!
Grub Street's Daniel Maurer is all over the community board meetings where angry residents try to effect the revocation of neighborhood saloons' liquor licenses. The most recent victim? East Village hot spot Death & Co. on East 6th Street.
So this morning, under the headline "Double Dose of DWI Deals," the Post reported that both Fabian Basabe and Tracy Morgan were at Manhattan Criminal Court yesterday, pleading out their various DWI raps. That's some intrepid reporting there. We imagine the Posties poring over court appearance schedules, just waiting to nab a couple of celebs in public acts of contrition. Alternately, maybe they got the scoop because Page Six's Richard Johnson just happened to be there dealing with his own DWI. Either way, nice work, kids!
As you've undoubtedly heard, the New York City Council is trying to crack down on underage drinking in the wake of the death of 18-year-old Jennifer Moore, who was killed after a night of imbibing at Chelsea club Guest House. But the Columbia Spectator editorial board isn't having it—if Columbia students want to drink, they WILL DRINK, goddammit.
TODO is one daily thing recommended for you, by us.
Those of us who commute into Manhattan from the wilds of Long Island - and Brooklyn and Queens - are all too cognizant of the fact that there's only one thing that can make a packed-to-the-gills LIRR car tolerable: the willingness of the MTA to let us get hammered on the train for all these years. Down a couple of Bud talls and the fat fuck sitting next to you will be your compadre-for-life by the time you reach Jamaica.
It's good to know that there are still people out there who are committed to causes, who aren't afraid to unite in the face of a monolithic, hegemonic power that just wants to keep them down. Iraq, you say? Er, no. Global warming, perhaps? Wrong again. Ah, the ongoing crisis in the Middle East. Surely, that's worth putting yourself on the line for. Well ... wrong again.
A different tipster writes:
Hipsteraunt Beatrice Inn, the West Village hotspot owned by Paul "Brother of Chlo " Sevigny, has divided opinions throughout our fair city: Some find it to be a pretentious little box full of nausea-inducing douchebags, while a couple of people like that you can smoke there. In any event, a tipster suggests that everything might not be on the up-and-up at the twatwaffle canteen:
The NYC health department released neighborhood-level statistical reports yesterday, and Greenwich-Soho-Tribeca took the prize for highest rate (23%) of binge drinking (defined as five or more drinks in one sitting, or what we like to call "lunch"). The New York Post immediately dispatched a correspondent to the Hog Pit in the Meatpacking District (or what they like to call "the uber-hip Meatpacking District"). And yes, it turns out this bar is, in fact, one of those bars that serves alcoholic beverages. Not only does binge drinking consist of a paltry five drinks, but you only need to have engaged in such once within the last month to make it into the stats. Such unseemly imbibing is not tolerated at the Hog Pit, as "anyone interested in bingeing should go elsewhere." The bartender says they "definitely cut people off," and she says it "sternly." Consider yourself on notice, B&T crowd.
Saloon-atics Are Still Drinking In the Moment in the Big Apple [NYP]
The Post today runs an excerpt from former scribe Tom Sykes's memoir of drunkenness, What Did I Do Last Night? A Drunkard's Tale. In it, Sykes tells of an incident when he came home, wasted, and couldn't get inside his apartment door. Thinking his wife had locked him out, he kicked the shit out of the door, screaming and pounding to be let in. When there was no answer, Sykes eventually gave up and slept in the hallway. When he woke up, he had three guns in his face and the NYPD screaming at him. Sykes explained that he was locked out, and an officer took his keys and went upstairs:
If you're like most overworked urbanites or desperate stay-at-home moms, you likely got hammered last night, drinking with your friendly enablers or in the secrecy of your bathroom. And you may be an incredibly talented writer but, like, so hungover, dude, and so no publisher gives a shit about your drunk tank dramatics. All that matters is whether or not you got clean and if you did so with the appropriate amount of grit, determination and self-deprecation — then you can qualify for the white-hot Rehab Memoir, and join the ranks of James Frey (pre-fabrication), Augusten Burroughs, David Carr, Kitty Dukakis, Bill Moyers and, the focus of today's article in the Observer, former Page Sixer Tom Sykes.
Since a weekend houseguest made us feel guilty and shallow by brandishing a copy of Simon Callow's Hello Americans — the recently released second volume in Callow's three-tome bio-epic of Orson Welles — we can only respond by unearthing and replaying the above. It's a long-debauched Orson Welles drunkenly slurring his way through a few takes on the Paul Masson wine commercials from the 1970s. Though he does slur and his intonation is bizarre (particularly the initial "Mwwwaaaaaah" gasp of surprise and delight), Welles still gets his lines right, at least. Guy was a pro to the end.
• Maybe we just love the image too much, but when we see Paris Hilton in handcuffs, we have to think she's enjoying herself. Hell, just another romantic night for the lady. [TMZ]
• Ellen: What's the deal with blogs? [BWE]
• Is CBS looking to team Campbell Brown and Anderson Cooper as co-hosts for The Early Show? Just some advice to the network brass: if you put those two in captivity, they're not gonna mate. [Fox411]
• Blogosphere alum and Vanity Fair online editor Andrew Hearst hits the print edition, makes magazine funny. [VF]
• The majority owners of celeb-hive nightspot Butter are suing co-owner Scott Sartiano for using club profits to further his lavish lifestyle. Well, duh. [NYP]
• Thanks to the Johnny Walker Blue Label Index, you can now determine exactly how much you're being ripped off by chic watering holes. [Eater]
• Making Park Slope mommies look downright appealing. [CookieAssortment]
• We know she's just lifting her voice towards the heavens or whatever, but Dawn Eden should not be allowed to sing. Or, at the very least, she should not be allowed to record herself singing. C'mon, girl, have some shame. God likes 'em modest. [Feministing]
Paragons of good taste and sharp-eyed journalistic integrity, Forbes leaves behind the salient issue of why women should stay in the kitchen, and tackles the much more pressing issue of just how drunk is everybody who has a job?
• You want news placement, you go to the Washington Post. [Wonkette]
• Photoshop is the new actually writing out the joke. [MediaWireDaily]
• Getting assaulted by Joe Francis boosts traffic immeasurably. Hey Joe, you suck! We bet you wouldn't have the nerve to touch us. [LA Observed]
• Jeffrey Epstein's money sullies the purity of New Mexican politics. [DealBreaker]
• Drink up at The Orchard and E.U. Then be sure to step outside and let the neighbors hear how much fun you're having. [Eater]
• Plums: Fresh. [Gothamist]
• Wondering what Dana Giacchetto's been up to? More of the same, apparently. [TSG]
• Vests: Not just for old people anymore. [MTV]
• People who wear vests are twats. [No link, it's just an editorial opinion.]
For whatever deranged reason relating to sunshine, yesterday afternoon we found ourselves thrust amidst the well-heeled glamourpusses on the rooftop of Soho House. While were successful in avoiding eye contact, we couldn't help but glance around and notice a proliferation of pink. Waiters bringing out bottle after bottle of rosé to the poolside. Wine glasses filled with various shades of blush. Just one week after Sunday Styles absurdly proclaimed rosé to be the new hotness, and everywhere we looked, people were drinking rose-fucking-ay. The conspicuous consumption of rosé wasn't confined to the exclusive places, either. We even saw rosé in the East Village. Well below 14th.
We got all excited about Lea Thompson's promised blockbuster expose on online liquor sales for last night's NBC Nightly News, but somehow we missed the actual segment. This is what particularly intrigued us: "When we Googled online alcohol we were stunned to see a toy site come up, through which, with the click of a mouse, you could order liquor." With the mere click of a mouse, you say? Normally this would just be another case of Google handily replacing actual journalism — on a scare-story that went stale some time ago, natch — but we're damned if we can find this booze-selling "toy" site Thompson is talking about. Closest example we see when Googling "online alcohol" is "Dinky Drinks," which, while sporting a colorful kid-friendly design, is also cheerfully upfront about its liquorlicious wares. If you saw the report and know of the toy-drinks site in question, drop us a line. Because we, uh, need some toys. Of course, Googling "online sex" brings up a toy-related business as the first hit. Instant trend piece!
