We're amazed that Arianna Huffington still lets Maxim UK editor Greg Gutfeld post on her group blog — but thank God she does, because Gutfeld's finally addressed some of our lingering HuffPo questions:

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• Our favorite ex-pat Greg Gutfeld dons his labcoat and, after extensive scientific research, comes up with the latest medical scare, Huff-Lag. So that's why we feel sick and depressed whenever we read the HuffPo for too long. [HuffPo]
• On the NYC singles scene: "It's a fashion-y, power, kind of who you know and what you know kind of city." Yeah? And who the fuck are you? [Forbes]
• Precious indie rocker Bright Eyes gets wasted at Glastonbury, talks shit on stage, loses respect of Number One Fan Jonathan Safran Foer. [Buddyhead via Goldenfiddle]
• We remember people hating on capri pants back in 1998. Apparently, they're still hating. Listen: If it's hot as hell outside and you don't like your upper thighs, you don't have a lot of options. Lay off, dudes. [IHateCapriPants]
• Ah, good, now we're not the only website editors with BJ victims around town. [OiNY]
• And there's only one way to end a day like today: What. The. Fuck. [Craigslist]

"And this is the room where we translate Harry Shearer's posts into standard English..."
An incredibly brave Gawker operative brings us documentation of The Huffington Post's exotic offices, where the walls are lined with feta and staffers lounge on marshmallow-soft chairs and chinchilla rugs. For perspective, the combined square footage of every Gawker Media "office" (read: editor's apartment) totals roughly 1/15 of the space pictured above.

In the aftermath of radio host Don Imus' outburst towards his guest Tucker Carlson, our beloved HuffPoster Greg Gutfeld is searching for answers.

Huffington Post resident crack-monkey Greg Gutfeld has created a bit of a stir amongst his contemporaries, as he recently posted instructions on how to make a "media container," which was really a Gutfeldian diatribe on burying alive fellow Huffposters. As with the launch of any grand idea, there has been an inevitable backlash:

Yesterday, Tribune Media Services announced that they would begin test syndicating the Huffington Post starting Monday, and we quietly wept. Then we realized that, by golly, the growth of Arianna Huffington's Dorky SlumberParty might actually be for the good of mankind! After all, the Tribune syndication will hopefully spread Greg Gutfeld's wisdom to our nation's "finer" news outlets, thus instructing otherwise ignorant souls on how to trap, torture, and bury fellow HuffPosers such as David Corn and Harry Shearer.

A lot of you have requested more Huffington Post coverage as of late, but we've refused to meet your demands — we simply couldn't continue with our unrequited lusting for HuffPo crackhead Greg Gutfeld or else we'd die of something terribly old and romantic, like consumption.

Sometimes (well, actually, all the time) we read the Huffington Post and, after about three sentences from Dannielle Crittendon or, worse, Harry Shearer, our eyes glaze over and we begin humming and rocking back and forth and then everything goes gray and we wake up wrapped in clean, white sheets. Oh, you too? Glad it's not just us. Thankfully, our favoritest HuffPoster Greg Gutfeld has done us all a favor:

Tragedy! Until now, we ve marveled at Mad-Lad Blogger Greg Gutfeld s impeccably unique worldview. But leave it to some dude at the Poynter Institute to ruin our day. The claim: Gutfeld ripped off his David Gergen references from Dave Egger s literary magazine, McSweeney s. FishbowlNY investigated, publishing the email exchange with Gutfeld in full:

Over the past few days, the Huffington Post has finally gotten itself together and done the right thing by giving Maxim UK editor Greg Gutfeld his own page, aptly-titled The Gutfeld Drive-Bys. In his latest entry, Gutfeld responds to a post from the "pudgy and pliable" Norman Mailer:

Despite one reader's sweet request that I remove my "smelly" ladyparts from the "lips of that wrinkled-titty Huffington cunt," I just can't help myself. Like Zellweger to Cruise, the Huffington Post completes me. If you can patiently wade through Paul Loeb's jewfro and Seth Greenland's plea for The Simple Life to hit North Korea, you'll find rare moments of genius:

It's day four of the nation's most exciting experiment in bloggery ever! To save you time, a quick recap of what's happening at The Huffington Post: David Mamet is magnanimous about an old foe, Sherry Lansing has some free time on her hands and wants to teach your kids how to greenlight remakes; Norman Lear is still, as of 1:02 A.M., alive. AB

After my long (er, 24-hour) sojurn beyond the Mason-Dixon line, I returned yesterday afternoon to the cold, hard truth: UK Maxim editor Greg Gutfeld fucking owns the Huffington Post. For those of you who claim Gawker doesn't love anyone or anything, let it be known that we'd amorously dry-hump the Huffington Post so long as Gutfeld keeps kicking his internet game. To wit:

You might think that it's far too early in the great online B-list circle jerk known as The Huffington Post to single out individual contributors and entries for special acclaim. But you would, of course, be wrong: The sheer magnitude of thoughtless self-infatuation on display every moment on the Huffa-lator is simultaneously so exhilarating and so spiritually toxic that, based on a solid 15 minutes of copious online research, we proudly announce the Huffalumps, in recognition of a corpus of so vast and so fatuous that it may one day render Gawker utterly redundant. After the jump, the awards. MnG

We turn our attention once again to The Huffington Post, which continues to impress with its roster of contributors: Walter Cronkite, Larry Gelbart, Jerry Brown Apparently, the idea is to give young people a feeling of what it was like to live in the seventies. But don't take our snide criticisms as the final word: Listen to what notorious crackpot Nikki Finke has to say. Actually, there's too much venom in here to give you a decent sampling. We'll just reprint the first two paragraphs in toto:

Still more breaking news at The Huffington Report! An eminence no less celebrated than Tina Brown has popped her little head in to offer her wisdom to the nascent blog's many readers. Apparently this piece was originally intended for Radar but, well, one can't wait forever, can one? As a former editor, Brown is well aware of the ability of skilled professionals to clean up an essay, even one that consists mainly of bulleted points formatted to look like a deeply thought-out list, and the original draft she turned in bears some slight but noticeable differences from the final project. After the jump, we present Tina's first pass at the piece.

We admit we were skeptical at first, but The Huffington Post turns out to be everything its backers promised: conversational, witty, and up-to-the-minute. Why, here's an excerpt from the most recent entry, by noted historian Arthur Schlesinger, Jr.: