Do dogs wear shades? A dog, Gawker's award-winning dog columnist, addresses the important question of dog fashion in today's column: "Sorry Tony—dogs don't wear shades."

The venerable St. Louis Post-Dispatch dropped George Will's column after the opprobrium heaped on his latest musings on nonconsensual touching. But he will not be silenced after this violation by the Twittocracy. Victims must speak out. Here's George Will taking back the night.

A dog, Gawker's most powerful columnist, sings this week a haunting song of friendship, love, life and loyalty: "I love friends, I have friends, who's my best friend? Sissko kid! A friend of mine, he likes salted peanuts, eating them all, out the can."

A dog, Gawker's most popular columnist, returns this week with an exploration of the face-to-face relationship, and a being's ethical responsibility to the infinite other: "There's a rabbit who lives in a plywood box two yards down. Not a smart guy. I can't vouch for his personality."

A dog, Gawker's best-known columnist, explores the mysteries of nature in today's column: "Trees are not sticks. It's important to remember that. Sticks can fit in your mouth." A dog maintains a Kinja blog here.

Humans often measure a dog's time in "dog years." But how does a dog, Gawker's oldest and youngest employee, measure the time? "It's just that I don't have a watch, you see. Nor do I have a clock, a cell phone, or a sundial," a dog admits. "I have the time in my mind. I got time on my mind. But I don't have the time."

A dog, Gawker's bravest essayist, returns this week with a never-before-told tale of struggle. "There was a time, not long ago, when I came to face an obstacle in my life," he shares. "Not an obstacle like when you walk on one side of a small tree only to find that the leash on your neck is connected to a hand on the other side of the small tree, thereby making forward progress impossible; an obstacle more like 'something scary.'"

The more I read the news on my web-enabled smartphone, the more it becomes clear to me that there are precisely four words that must be banished from the English language. Why four? My column doesn't have space for more than that.

A dog, Gawker's chief dog correspondent, writes today about the soothing sounds of music. "My jam," a dog writes, "is the one where they snap the fingers, and the man is singing 'Shoo boop, de booop shoooooooooo, ahhhhhhh, wop wop wop.' Do you know that one?" Well? Do you?

Frank Bruni, a bad newspaper columnist who is nevertheless employed as a columnist by America's most prominent newspaper, is obligated to write two columns per week. He has approximately zero good ideas per week. This is what causes things like Sunday's column to happen.

Still confused why a doorstop economics text is the most talked-about book in the U.S.? A dog, Gawker's foremost columnist, returns this week with an in-depth review of French economist Thomas Piketty's sensational, revolutionary, much-discussed Capital in the Twenty-First Century. A dog maintains a Kinja blog at dog.gawker.com.

Senior Gawker columnist a dog takes on the difficult questions of canine substance abuse in a new column today. "I hate to tell you this, but once I had beer. Right in my bowl." A dog maintains a blog at dog.gawker.com.

A dog, Gawker's foremost columnist who is a dog, weighs in on this week's Pulitzer Prize awards in a new column, "Give a Kiss to Me." A dog maintains a Kinja blog at dog.gawker.com.

Gawker is pleased to present a new column from a dog, Gawker's most prolific columnist. In today's dispatch, a dog considers the banana and the Froot Loop: "No dog should eat those. There's no peanut butter inside."

A dog, Gawker's newest columnist, returns to his personal Kinja blog, dog.gawker.com, with a meditation on laughter and life. Please enjoy.

Frank Bruni, a bad newspaper columnist, has an affinity for college that rivals Tom Friedman's affinity for cab drivers.

We're extremely pleased to announce the hiring of a new Gawker columnist, a dog, who will maintain a blog at dog.gawker.com. Please enjoy a dog's first column, "Hey."

"In an age of sexting and Snapchat, of 'Girls Gone Wild' and friends with benefits..." Ruth Marcus' plug-and-play style of vacuous columnizing makes her the Thomas Friedman of boring sex scolds.

"Frozen In a Niche?" is the headline of today's Maureen Dowd column, as well as the headline of Maureen Dowd's career.

Richard Cohen is a doddering old man who sits in the Washington Post newsroom atop an overturned paint can, shouting about how the women and the blacks have gotten out of hand. Not to mention that young fella, the Justin, the Bieber. Listen here, son.