• Synth coke [YouTube via BoingBoing]

Good news! Our first attempt at inducing you to submit and/or vote on slogans that will at some future date be slapped on the front of a Defamer-themed t-shirt available for purchase in the Gawker Shop was such a success that we're going to ask you to return to the submitting/voting fray once again. After the jump, you can view all the slogans currently in play, or offer new ones (remember, you can only donate your creative powers once per half hour) for evaluation by a jury of your peers, who undoubtedly find their own exhaustion-themed contribution far more worthy than the cocaine-inspired creation you dreamed up while blowing a rail in the LAX (club or airport, we don't judge) bathroom last night. Get ready to prop yourself up with a satisfying "I'd Buy!" click, then fight back against their obviously ego-driven blindness with a highly prejudicial "No Way" vote-down by following the pretty "Continued" graphic below.

As is their wont, the folks at The Smoking Gun have obtained the police interview that occurred after Mike Tyson's most recent arrest. It makes for rather depressing reading: Here's a man who has obviously never been in control of his own emotions, whose early success has left him the victim of sycophants determined to drain him of what few funds he has left, and whose internal pain is so great that not only is he on prescription medication for depression, but who frequently resorts to self-medication. We're particularly concerned about the above excerpt: Does that really work? Because we've got a really bad cold right now and we hate to feel like we're wasting anything. Seriously, we'd love to know.

In response to the crashing price of heroin versus the increasing luxurification of grass, we asked the few of you bothering to read (or sober enough to understand) what you're paying these days for your junk. A few scattered answers after the jump, ranging from depressing social commentary to unfair aspersions on British character actors.

We've long wondered about some of the special services that some of the city's best hotels might provide "off the menu," if you catch our drift, wink wink nudge nudge. We'd always assumed that the menu consisted of happy endings and the like, but at Leona Helmsley's Park Lane Hotel—where rooms cost up to $480 per night—the options got much more creative. The night manager and another staffer were allegedly supplying special guests (and undercover cops) with guns and cocaine:

• Someone very kindly sent us the image above. It has nothing to do with this how cocaine is made video. [CityRag]
  

In New York's roundup of what luxury goods rich people who can afford eight of them want for Xmas, recently-rehabbed designer Donatella Versace's strikes us as telling. White sand, eh? Well, tropical vacations are fine and good, but nothing beats skiing.

In more pre-Thanksgiving cocaine-themed news (seriously, wtf) the Daily Intel reports that dissolute drug den (and hangout of the high-living) 205 is actually in danger of being shut down by clever vice cops, who have been posing as cab drivers and asking departing patrons if they've been offered drugs. Tricky, tricky! But owner Guy Jacobsen denies that the city's wacky suspicions have any merit. "I have a license to sell one drug; it's the one behind the bar." Ah, so that's where he keeps it.

In case you needed scientific proof that all those skiing ads on Craigslist weren't really about the, er, slopes, there's now scientific (!) proof that New Yorkers are, in fact, the biggest cokeheads in the world. We won't go into the boring scientific process (besides, we don't really understand it, except that it seems to have something to do with examining "by-products"), but we will let the English version of Der Spiegel magazine tell us what's what:

So it turns out that the lovely Charmin installation in Times Square isn't for pooping, as we'd wondered, or for bulimia, as the Times had suggested. No, as the Daily Intelligencer reveals, these toilets are clearly for one thing only:

After overhearing some suspiciously chatty, sniffling patron exiting Hyde talking excitedly about how he felt "like Strawberry Shortcake just peed down the back of my throat," TMZ.com's curiosity was aroused enough to try and find the source of this new buzz, confident that even the most cutting-edge club does not yet offer deviant, childhood-cartoon-character-based water sports. Today, they present the findings from their journey through the fruit-flavored underbelly of the local narcotics trade:

• A celebrity is openly doing lines while wearing a dirty brown shirt. Fine. But smelling like drugs? That's just tacky. [Hotel Chatter]
• Lance Bass goes on a gay date with his gay boyfriend. Because he is gay. [TMZ]
• Literary journal n+1 successfully raises $3,000 to give to thief. [NY Sun]
• Comedian earns spot in NY Post's list of "25 Sexiest New Yorkers." Which makes sense, as he has been running through our mind of Mencia all day. [The Apiary]
• Hurricane Ernesto leaves devastating puddle in its wake. [One Park Reality]
• The originator of the Valerie Plame leak steps forward. Not Karl Rove or Dick Cheney, yet still very, very ugly. [NYT]
• Elizabeth Spiers' racy tell-all about the founding of Gawker omits the sexy scene where she and Nick Denton meet at a Metafilter party. [BeE Magazine]

"You want a drug dealer who's like a dad; who's like, an immigrant, and putting his six kids through college. He's not gonna fuck around, you know?"