Valentine's Day is Wednesday, people, and we're going to be closing the polls ... oh, sometime before Wednesday. So hurry up and get your entries in, or you'll be leaving adorable TAN all alone on 103rd Street. Which, quite frankly, will be no fun for him. Also, need we add that dinner is on Gawker? Okay, we'll add that. Remember: One paragraph about what you've done for the good of black people, sent to contests@gawker.com. Do it! For the good of black people everywhere, do it now!

Our favorite Assimilated Negro—The Assimilated Negro (pictured, hotly, at right)—was feeling a bit lonely as St. Valentine's Day approached. He figured he might feel out of place at the n+1 gathering on Saturday, for melatoninmelanin [sorry, we're a little sleep-deprived ourselves]-related reasons, and thus turned to us for help. He's got a V-Day reservation at the White Castle on 103rd and 1st (Spanish Harlem! Edgy!), but no one to enjoy his "slyders" with. Won't you be TAN's Valentine?

Thanks to our advertisers, who would totally escort us to rehab if we just sort of needed to get it together. Want to come along for the ride? More info here.

NICK DOUGLAS — "There's a condom in the bathroom trash," a lady friend told me around midnight in David Weekly's living room. "It's mine."

So, Columbia J-School students are unethical. Fortunately, they're being given another chance to prove that they're not mini-Jayson Blairs—but now the pressure's on, Media Mob reports:

Microsoft ex-co-president-to-be Jim Allchin brags to reporters about Windows Vista's impregnability:

Things we learned from today's Wall Street Journal profile of TechCrunch blog founder Michael Arrington

Valleywag readers, congrats on your your reactions to the NY Times photo of Sun's CEO gazing into space! Commenter wagsport, yours was just weird, so you get banned. The rest of you, seek therapy.

The CEO of Sun Microsystems appears in this photo from the New York Times, gazing up at the headline, or trying to tan his forehead with the flourescents, or — what the hell is Jon Schwartz, famous executive blogger and ponytail wearer, doing?

So, as a surprisingly large number of you knew (note to advertisers: Gawker readers are not old, just incredibly aware of New York City history!), the photos in our contest this morning were of 77 White Street, 57 St. Mark's Place, and 213 Park Avenue South, respectively the former homes of the Mudd Club, Club 57, and Max's Kansas City. And that's pretty much all we have to say about the closure of CBGB's until we report live from the inevitable opening of the Las Vegas version. Reader "Least Wanted" was quickest off the mark; he wins a signed copy of Chris Epting's James Dean Died Here: The Locations of America's Pop Culture Landmarks. We salute those of you who got it right on your impressive cultural knowledge and your surprising ability to recollect these locations given your advanced years (advertisers: just kidding!).

After the jump we'll present three pictures of different locations in New York. The first person to identify them and explain their significance will win a prize to be revealed upon the contest's completion. You can send your guesses here; standard contest rules apply.

In the second annual World's Sexiest Cities poll over at Gridskipper, our fair metropolis of New York is nominated in the categories of World's Most Lesbian-Friendly City, World's Most Fetish-Friendly City, and the capper of World's Sexiest City. Plus, we're defending last year's title of World's Most Masculine City. How can New York contain all these multitudes? Apparently we can't, as we're currently losing all races. C'mon — Detroit? Seattle? Cannot stand. Go take a look and vote your conscience.

Let's just all agree that caption contests are supremely retarded, and they rightly inspire responses of supreme tardation. Really we just wanted to run this photo of superpublicist Stephen Huvane picking gum off Kirsten Dunst's shoe, and we also had the Spiegeltent tickets to give away, and lo, two birds met our mighty one stone and were thus killed. And now, it's time to check the victors. Second runner-up:

Yesterday Us Weekly reported that Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn were engaged; a few hours later, Aniston's publicist Stephen Huvane denied the story, saying that the magazine was simply wrong and that there was no engagement. Just like any decent flack, Huvane has been known to outright lie on behalf of his clients — but at this point, we don't really care if he's lying or not. We're just happy to have this picture of him picking the gum off of Kirsten Dunst's shoe. That, friends, is what the PR industry is all about.

Amazing how many submissions to the "David Patrick Columbia Defeats Death" contest included animals, mojitos, Brooke Astor, and doormen. You'll recall that we asked for 50 words or less describing how the driving force behind New York Social Diary confronted and overcame death. If only everyone could win, but sadly, even the actual winner doesn't really win much. As an aperitif, here's the second runner-up:

Over at Frink Tank, blogger Not Shitashi notes a sidebar to the recent Chuck Klosterman Snakes on a Plane essay. As non-Esquire readers (we feel like GQ provides us with all the crappy homoeroticism we need for the month), we were unaware of this piece, since it was unavailable online. The helpful Frintankers chose to transcribe it. It's entitled "The Best Idea I've Ever Had" (really, the jokes write themselves), and, after the jump, we'll bring it to you in full, along with the opportunity to win a prize.

Socialite captioneer and social mandarin David Patrick Columbia is most well known for running the good ship New York Social Diary. Unfortunately, it seems he took in a showing of An Inconvenient Truth. That or the heat done got him. The generally dark news here and abroad inspired the gentleman to issue this declaration:

A promotion brought to you by WXXX FM, rockin' out in Burlington, Vermont. Trust us, no matter how garish that bracelet is or how much Cancun is plagued by hurricanes and/or narco gangs, either is preferable to what awaits you in Chantal's big box.

Thanks ever so much to those who submitted possible sin-erasing obituaries for ex-New York Times staffer Jayson Blair. The challenge was to come up with a first line that could successfully supplant likely references to Blair's career crash at the NYT. Hardly any references to hard drug use, disappointingly. The winner and honorable mentions, after the jump.

We're glad to see that disgraced New York Times journalist Jayson Blair is larding his self-pity with more angry cynicism these days. However, in Matt L. Perrone's otherwise charmingly angry extended interview on PopMatters (conducted when Blair served as MC at a high school awards ceremony in Virginia), the man shows the strain a bit. When asked how his death notice would read, a grin-deflated Blair responds, "I cannot imagine anything I could do, no matter how long I live, that will change that first line of my obituary."