And today in Jewish-Media-Manhattan Conspiracy news, Rudin Management has set up an Israeli outpost in order to lure members of the tribe to the financial district:
· Mariah Carey is getting a much-needed makeover from none other than Vogue messiah Andre Leon Talley. If he can make Mariah lose the skanky adjectives, we'll convert to the house of Vogue. [Page Six]
· Bad news for gays, good news for me: Star Wars star Hayden Christensen is totally straight. Bad news for me: He was spotted making out with Eva Longoria. [Lowdown]
· It's the PR Bitchfest of our dreams: After losing an employee to Ronn [sic] Torossian, Lizzie Grubman chains her staff of remaining power girls to their desks. [Page Six]
· Talk-show lesbian Ellen DeGeneres comes out as a survivor of child abuse. For once, she has no quirky-cute joke to accompany this revelation, and we respect her for it. [R&M]
Sweet Jesus holy Mary mother of whatever Yahweh almighty. Australian pop goddess-cum-gay icon Kylie Minogue has been diagnosed with breast cancer. And don't you DARE question the relevance of this item: Kylie's illness is the biggest blow to the gay community since, well, you know.
We're hesitant to start the morning like this, but we've yet to make coffee and, moreover, we're gluttons for punishment. Also, we hate ourselves and want to die. Nevertheless, this supposedly is the much-anticipated Paris Hilton "too hot for TV" cheeseburger ad. (It'll be safe for work once you forward the link to your boss.) If House of Wax didn't turn you vegan, Carl's Jr. surely will. -KEW
As any young woman in the big, scary city knows, we live with the constant (and mildly exciting, admit it) threat of danger. Your next ho-hum trip to Duane Reade could be your last! Maybe you've taken a self-defense class (or, like me, your parents forced you to take Krav Maga) or carry pepper spray, but wouldn't it save a lot of time if we'd all just suck it up and buy a kick-ass weapon?
We're not quite sure if this guy is serious or if he's joking (or if maybe he's both at the same time, like Andy Kaufman): Andy Horwitz is running for mayor on the "Blog Party" ticket. We suppose we ought to support his campaign, what with being a blog and all, but somehow we can't really work up the enthusiasm; he's just got such a boring platform. (A typical plank: "Accountability in the MTA and responsible public transportation development initiatives." Please.) Plus, what's a blog party without drinks, or at least Krucoff? We'll make this pledge, though: If Horwitz successfully picks a fight with Jerry Lawler, he's absolutely got our votes.
· At Joe's Pub tonight, one-man folk band Willy Porter sings while he scratches, taps, and drums on his acoustic guitar. So does the homeless guy right outside our apartment, but we hate mixing our own drinks. [flavorpill]
· Paper tells us that British critic darlings Kasabian take their name from Linda Kasabian, Charles Manson's getaway driver. We knew they were hipper than us. Bowery Ballroom, if you can procure a ticket. [Paper]
· Left-leaning winners of commie rag The Nation's Poetry Contest read from their respective works at the 92nd Street Y. Writing poetry is totally better than winning political elections, anyway. [VV]
Because some job opportunities are truly too good to pass up, we want have an announcement for anyone looking to write the next great roman
clef or simply in search of some good, old-fashioned abuse. It would seem that Vogue editor-in-chief Anna Wintour has taken to reaping Barnard's fields for fresh meat under the guise of hiring a new assistant, according to an email from Barnard's career center:
A recent reader submission compels us to remind the cast members of Law & Order (and all of its random tentacles) that they're still as anonymous and un-special as every other New Yorker. If you happen to be filming on my block, you're even worse. So, unless your name is Mariska or Sam, you're one of the plebs. Case in point:
We trust in your poor taste and creativity for this one. Send along your guesses, and perhaps a dramatic re-enactment of the scene ASAP. Our lawyers are researching precedents for scatologically filled libel cases as we speak.-KEW
[Sorry, again, about the hed, but we had to finish what we started.]
Today's issue of Time has an update on the condition of comedian Dave Chappelle, who has reportedly been in a South African mental health facility after disappearing in late April. Today, Comedy Central's show pony clears some things up. While he's indeed in South Africa, he's not in any sort of facility — he tells Time that he's staying with a friend and trying to find some peace and quiet. "Let me tell you the things I can do here which I can't at home: think, eat, sleep, laugh. I'm an introspective dude. I enjoy my own thoughts sometimes. And I've been doing a lot of thinking here." (Apparently, Chappelle's also sober, so this "thinking" does not include building tree forts out of glass bongs.)
· Queen socialite Nan Kempner is reportedly in a coma. We know, we know — but this one's serious! [Gatecrasher]
· Whatever Boy Fabian Basabe and his publicist R. Couri Hay have reportedly ended their relationship. Their professional one, that is — how dare you insinuate otherwise. [Lowdown]
· Yonkers is burning — but more importantly, Page Six misidentifies Susan Smith as the woman who drowned her five children. As any homicidal woman knows, Andrea Yates is the woman who drowned her five children, not Susan Smith. Susan Smith is the one that threw her kids in the trunk before driving the car into a lake. You'd think the diabolical Posties would know the difference. [Page Six]
· Donald Trump strikes a deal to bring The Apprentice to South Africa. And so the people continue to suffer. [R&M (2nd item)]
Because no single co-editor can satiate our libidos, the Gawker Gangbang continues this week with none other than guest editor K. Eric Walters (a pseudonym, remember, because he's a "real writer" and, for whatever reason, wants to keep his day job). You might remember KEW from his previous Gawky endeavors, the highlights of which included stalking a sleepy Margaret Atwood and romancing a rowdy Chris Wilson. Since we're confident in his ability to piss people off in real life, we're promoting him the only way we know how: by depriving him of sunlight, soil, and water. He'll be spending this week tied to his computer with twine and silk scarves; if he's good, we just might promote him to wearing fuzzy handcuffs. One can only hope.
That's going to do it for me; if you need me I'll be drowning my sorrows in the well-mixed Old Fashioneds at East Side Company Bar. And my sorrows are legion. In the brief five days I've spent here I've come to realize how Choire Sicha went from barefoot boy with cheek of 29 to wizened old crone of 33 in the space of year. The swift transformation of Jess Coen's apartment from charming LES walkup to makeshift meth lab (well, swift for that neighborhood) also suddenly makes sense. They couldn't pay you to do this job on a regular basis (that is, in fact, the business plan). Anyway, thanks for putting up with me, thanks to all three of my co-editors, and thank you for the tips and e-mail abuse (memo to the guy who wrote that the New York Press' "Taibbi & Zaitchik could write better copy in the snow with their dicks than you can with a laptop": I use a desktop.). Finally, thanks to Nikki Finke for keeping things interesting; next time you're in town the club sodas are on me. Okay, there's wallets to dent and livers to damage. Catch you around. AB
Victor S. Navasky is the publisher and editorial director of The Nation, as well as the director of the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism's Delacorte Center. He enjoys kite-surfing and "just having fun."
· Neil Hamburger is the funniest un-funny comedian of all time. Seriously — the dude's shtick is telling jokes so bad, they're almost good. The operative word, of course, is "almost." [flavorpill]
· Park Ave's beloved Asia Society holds its first-ever Dance Master Competition tonight, in which movers and shakers bring it down to Chinatown to win the title of "Dance Master." Creative, no? $9 bucks gets you a piece of the action and some facetime with the contest's unspecified "celebrity judges." [Paper]
Saturday: · "The Muster is a public art event in which artist Allison Smith invokes the aesthetic vernacular of the American Civil War battle reenactment as a stage set for a polyphonic marshalling of voices in her artistic and intellectual communities." We'll, uh, meet you there! [PAF]
· Are you as smart as you think you are? Put your money where your mouth is and prove it: $30 gives you a shot at the Greater New York Mensa Qualifying Exam at TRS Inc. [GNYM]
Sunday:
· Don't you think you could use a little sun? No, seriously, tans are cool. Get some fresh air while paying homage to Dorothy Parker and Vogue's better days with the Algonoquin Round Table Walking Tour. [DPNYC]
