The very small type in our Filofax — yes, we're that old-fashioned — tells us that today is Australia Day.

Some late-breaking but very important MLK news moved on the AP wire last night, and we feel we must interrupt our regular, post-MLK Day programming to bring it to you:

Everyone enjoys Google's tradition of modifying its logo in honor of various holidays and anniversaries, and today's simple and elegant tribute to Martin Luther King is no exception.

• Who'd have thunk it? CBS Evening News sees rising ratings, happy staff. [LAT]
• The newsweeklies are cutting their overseas bureaus and — stop the presses! — media do-gooder types think this is bad. [IHT]
• Judy Miller's tough post-Times life: Joining David Brooks on a panel at the Four Seasons in Palm Beach. [South Florida Sun-Sentinel]
• In honor of the Dr. King, Simon Dumenco confesses his dream: That one day bloggers and newspaper reporters will join hands together and sing "We Shall Overcome." [Ad Age]

HUNG BLACK HANDSOME SLAVEBOY LOOKING FOR DOMINATE LADIE TO SERVE

In honor of Martin Luther King, Jr., Gawker would like to take a moment to reflect on why the civil rights hero is so important.

Spotted today in the elevator bank at the Manhattan VA Hospital:

Hello! Seth here. We're almost there, folks! Like a meth-mouthed hustler dumped off the side of Highway 62 as we bat-outta-hell-it out of Joshua Tree, 2005 is quickly receding in our collective rear view mirror, and we can't think of any better way to have spent its last fuzzy moments than here, with you, the fourteen people reading Defamer this week. We've tried to offer you some New Year's Eve plan options, but ultimately, we know you'll make the most of the overhyped, overpriced, overrated night. Just remember, it's not the size of your party, but what you do with the tiny party you've been ill-fated to that counts. We find scented candles and massage always keeps 'em happy, but you might want to stick to the more traditional routes of champagne, noisemakers, and whatnot.

When I think of Conde Nast and bowls, my mind instinctively turns to fecal matters (yours doesn't?) but a reader sends in a picture of the official Conde Nast holiday present: a glass bowl.

And tonight on 360, Anderson talks to senior citizens who just can't figure out how to set that dang VCR.

Like all baby Jesus-haters, we spent our Christmas Sunday reading the Times, which attempted its own version of Media Christmas — but with the equally depraved world of New York realtors. After sifting through the tales of closet fucking at Prudential Douglas Elliman's Four Seasons bash and the mandatory air kissing at Gumley Haft Kleier's party, the evil realtor Corcoran's plans are revealed:

Our early morning surfing:

[Via Copyranter]

Holiday e-cards are, without question, this season's most disgusting trend (you know who you are, lazy-ass). But while many an inbox greeting has provoked the rolling of our jaded eyes, only one has caused actual retching:

Our favorite intoxicated intellectual Christopher Hitchens has a very special holiday message for us all: Fuck Christmas, and fuck you, too. Unlike many anti-season types, it's not Christmas's commercialism or the loss of greater meaning that has him down — what makes Hitchens all frothy is the emphasis on assigning some sort of Christian meaning to the whole lot of bells and trees. Add to that "an insistent din of identical propaganda and identical music" and "the collectivization of gaiety and the compulsory infliction of joy," and suddenly the man has no choice but to indulge his big, angry boner with an entire column.

We've an addendum to our 123 Things to Love About New York:

• Those News Corp kids sure do know how to throw an incredibly odd Christmas party. Weirdness aside, things were moments of normalcy: after the picture at right was taken, she ended up in the broom closet with dude dressed like a giant beaver-like thing.
• It was inevitable, really, that LIRR tickets ended up on eBay. Go ahead and collect your little piece of hell! [eBay]
• In the meantime, the TWU and MTA mediators are kinda passing notes back and forth, but it might not last long if the authorities jail union folk. [Gothamist]
• Tomorrow at 12:30, you should probably go meet this freak on a corner and sumo wrestle him. [Craigslist]
• The world's best Christmas list always starts with a request for one-night stands who appear with perfect boners. [NYO]
• How to kill yourself like a man. [The Best Page in the World]
• Maybe we missed something, but how, why and when the hell did the New Yorker make Bill O'Reilly's blacklist? [BillOReilly.com]
• Why Jews secretly love Christmas. [Pdhyman]
• We always knew Oprah was to blame for America's reading crisis. Bitch. [n+1]
• Pac-Manhattan hits the University of Michigan, becomes just reality Pac-Man. So that means this stuff takes approximately two years to trickle towards the Great Lakes. [Boing Boing]
• If you win a prize involving financial support from evil realtor Barbara Corcoran, is it really winning at all? [GMA]

The delightful deviants over at Yankee Pot Roast have unveiled a story that is sure to become as sacred a holiday tale as 'Twas the Night Before Christmas. Behold author Mick Stingley's An American Psycho Christmas in all its Batemansian glory:

You may think you're hot shit because you got a Christmas card from your dentist, but you're not really a holiday success story unless you snag a season's greeting from someone infamous. Even better if it comes from an entire clan of infamous twits, like the Hiltons. Behold this year's herpes-scented holiday card from Rick, Kathy and the gang — note the use of traditional portrait style, with the family skank positioned in the center.

A horrible thought just occurred to us: What happens to today's Media Christmas parties?!