An essay today by Brian McGreevy on Vulture.com about Lena Dunham begins this way: "Girls creator and star Lena Dunham is debatably the most significant figure currently working in television..." Wait. Stop. Allow us to stop you right there, before this goes any further.

A well-known principle of academic debate is, "If someone challenges your intellectual credentials, the best way to prove them wrong is to try to sue them into oblivion." So it goes for the poor college librarian who's being sued for millions of dollars over a blog post disparaging an academic publisher. (Ironically, no college librarian's blog post disparaging an academic publisher has ever been read by a human being.)

New research indicates that paying a lot of money for college is bullshit.

Last night, Jodie Foster, a famous actress who has been a famous actress for many decades, stood on stage at a glittery Hollywood awards show being broadcast around the world, and, in a lengthy, self-glorifying speech, in front of a crowd of the world's most famous people, asked for.... privacy. Is Jodie Foster clinically insane?

If you buy coffee at a Starbucks in the Washington, DC area today or tomorrow, do not be surprised to find the words "Come Together" scrawled illegibly on your cup. You can blame this on the fact that Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz is a tepid showman masquerading as a bold visionary.

Unionmade is an upscale men's clothing store, based in San Francisco and celebrated by GQ, that sells $258 "Vintage Styled Work Shirts" and $68 Cow Horn Combs and $565 "Vintage" Levi Jeans, and things of that nature. The company says that it "aims to improve the lives of our customers, community and suppliers by offering fairly priced products made from the best available materials." You might want to know, however, that Unionmade's products are not union made.

Peggy Noonan, whose uniquely airy style of kindergarten-reading-level prose works upon the political chattering classes (but no one else) like a snake charmer's flute works on a cobra, wrote one of the most vapid, scoff-worthy, fact-free columns of the pre-election news cycle, in which she predicted that Mitt Romney would win because she'd been seeing a lot of his yard signs around, lately. Well, now comes the post-election follow-up: Peggy Noonan is resigning from her job as a WSJ columnist, in acknowledgement of the unavoidable fact that she is an embarrassment to her profession.

When necessary, our dormant fitness column, "I of the Tiger," will return in order to address urgent fitness issues which demand a timely reckoning. This is one of those times.

The vice presidential debates are tonight. We expect and assume that, as in most elections, the debates—and the subsequent election—will be decided primarily upon the basis of which candidate most fully embodies the wise teachings of Gawker Media fitness columns. Well, shut it down, Biden has won, no need to show up today, might as well stay home and moisturize, "SNOWFLAKE" Ryan.

If you're the type of consumer who seeks out "vintage vodka," you are probably dumb.

Lincoln, the auto company whose average customer is the same age as Abraham Lincoln, has a problem: they're rolling out a hot new car, and they would like to sell it to some people who may not be about to die. Where is the more youthful, affluent audience for this stupid car? If you said "probably buying a BMW," you are far too honest to ever be a chief marketing officer.

Residents of America: have you been approached by a friendly-looking man offering you free sweets from the back of a truck? Beware! This is not just any garden variety perv; it is a European perv, trying to corrupt our youth—by convincing them that "Nutella" is an acceptable breakfast item. It is not.

The Romney-Ryan ticket, which will lose the US presidential election this November, is still giving it their all. The campaign is trailing in key states like Wisconsin, Iowa and Ohio. But they have a secret weapon: VP nominee Paul Ryan is an avid hunter.

What does the Creative digital ad agency world of the future look like? It's not what you might imagine—Mad Men in space suits, leisurely sipping martinis in their flying cars. It's about "thinking as much like a modern newsroom as it does a creative department," according to an Ad Age op-ed by ad guy Ian Schafer. What does that mean in practice? It means using lots and lots more buzzwords—strategically.

At times, as circumstances dictate, we will cover the 2012 Republican National Convention in the style of noted New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman. The following reporting is 100% real:

You can't really appreciate the extent to which politicians are actors until you're seated in a shitty press seat at a political convention that does not give you a direct view of the stage, but which does give you a view of a huge TV screen showing the politician speak and, simultaneously, a view of the teleprompter from which they're reading. In this position, every dramatic pause, every glowing smile, every instance of pointy-finger and raised voice and shaken head can be seen for what it really is: an actor, reading lines, trying to get the part.

It seems damn hard to get in shape these days. First, Americans were devastated to learn that LapBandVip.com billboards would not turn them into fitness models; now, in another crushing blow to people who want to exercise in their living rooms with a bare minimum of effort and subsequently bear a strong resemblance to John Basedow, it seems the Ab Circle Pro is not the magical device that was promised.

Muggers, drunk street harassers, and violent sociopaths of all stripes are applauding the new trend of women being taught "fun" self-defense classes, rather than those downer "how to potentially save yourself from a life-threatening attack" self-defense classes that women used to take. "I firmly believe that women's self-defense classes should always be taught in a 'fun' lighthearted manner that emphasizes fellowship and hilarity over adrenaline and the ability to temporarily ignore pain," said John, a rapist. "When it comes to self-defense, why be so serious?" argued Adrian, a subway groper. "Smile, ladies—this is a party!" agreed Max, a purse snatcher.

I'm sure I'm not the first one to point this out, but it must be said: in the July 23 issue of The New Yorker, Jane Kramer has written a "Personal History" story entitled "A Reporter At Odds: Trading the notebook for a guidebook." The intro:

The Fox News wing of the Republican Party (which is to say, the Republican Party), has concluded that Barack Obama is a 21st Century Richard Nixon because he conjured a dreaded, wicked trick called executive privilege to cover up his manifest crimes. Hey, only Republicans are allowed to do that!