Crazy-haired poet and rock star Paul Muldoon has shown up for work at the New Yorker—he recently replaced longtime poetry editor Alice Quinn. Says some anonymous blogger: "I just introduced myself to Paul Muldoon in the elevator and can report that the new poetry editor of The New Yorker is not much taller than the old one, Alice Quinn, but he wears long pants. The era of knickers is over! He was carrying an alarmingly slim volume that was the in-house archival scrapbook of verse that has run in The New Yorker since 1967—forty years of three poems a week. Anyway, he looked like he was just dying to publish a poem about a broken plate and a dirty shirt." As long as there are no more hideous Joni Mitchell poems and he can keep the junior staffers out of the magazine, that's fine by us. We'll just keep happily not really reading the poems like everyone else!