Yes, yes, that Frank Bruni review. We admit to being flummoxed. We're like deer in the headlights, frozen with fear, unable to avert our gaze. Let's be honest, a piece that starts off with the lines "It may be laughable when someone says he gets Penthouse magazine for the articles. It's no joke when I say I went to the Penthouse Executive Club for the steaks," defies parody even as it begs for it. Bruni butches it up throughout the entire review, giving as much attention to the strippers as he does to the strips, although he winds up paying more mind to the meat (bone-in, rib-eye for two, porterhouse for two) than the, uh, fish.