Glenn O'Brien is so sick of celebrities! Glenn O'Brien is co-editorial director for Brant Publications, overseeing magazines including Interview, the historic celebrity... interview magazine, founded by celebrity aficionado Andy Warhol. Glenn O'Brien says he "he avoids new movies and TV, shuns reading living authors, has no interest in commercial music," and only listens to really old comedians. Glenn O'Brien is conflicted. [WWD]

Jared Paul Stern, the ex-Page Sixer who ALLEGEDLY tried to extort billionaire Clinton pal Ron Burkle out of hundreds of thousands of dollars in exchange for good coverage, is keeping busy—in style. If you want to know how to decorate your office in a way "that won't make you look like an emotionally retarded teenager with his first credit card and a Sharper Image catalog," who better to ask than a foppish, scheming pseudojournalist? I can't think of anyone! So what's the recipe for a powerful office environment? "Manly wrenches." You're a natural, JPS! [Men.Style.com]

Dave Eggers's semi-precious literary magazine, McSweeney's, seek senryu and pantoums submissions for their next issue; "no other forms of poetry will be considered that this time." Now you're all wondering what those are, right?

The former editor (and current columnist) of the high-minded progressive mag writes about performance enhancers this month. Sadly, doesn't actually take them, as the cover line suggests. "That Major League Baseball continued to score game-winning profits despite the fears and suspicions noted in the margins of the official program (more players seen to resemble inflatable beach toys, mandatory and more frequent searches of antisocial urinary tracts, more pain-killing balms and ointments added to the roster of illegal contraband) testifies, as did Karl Rove's marketing of President George W. Bush, to the patriotism of the nation's sportswriters and the resilience of the American spirit." Steroids, hell &mdash that's the type of sentence written after a heavy dose of horse tranquilizers. [Harper's]

Note to magazine editors: When Amy Fisher gives you an interview about her new sex tape, and also an exclusive photo shoot of "her new and improved size D implants" showcased in lingerie, she does not appreciate being made to look, well, foolish. After an interview with New York/New Jersey nightclub magazine Steppin' Out, in which she talked freely about the sex tape and that one time she shot a lady in the head, Fisher sent an angry email to magazine's editor reading, in part, you obviously wanted to make me look really bad... You made me out to be a monster and I'm not and you know it." Maybe Fisher, who earned fame as a Long Island teenager for shooting her much older lover's wife, is genuinely hurt. Or maybe she just knows that conflict gets attention, as it did with her at-first-"unauthorized" sex tape, which she is now earning money on. Her email and the photo layout that supposedly made her so upset after the jump.

NYC residents, an investigation has found, are the only people on earth who are not for sale. Time Out went around offering cash to people on the street to sell their stuff on the spot—t-shirts, do-rags, pins, their own time. The reporter managed to get a do-rag, some pins, and an hour of quality time with some people (for $150-$50), but concluded that 72% of all citizens are "not for sale." Further, "Both athletes and hipsters refused my offer of $100 for their shiny tights," which proves only that athletes and hipsters are not good economists. We're not so sure we trust these results. The offer of a Murray Hill condo, several new suits, a Blackberry, and $140,000 a year seems to convince plenty of New Yorkers to become corporate lawyers. [TONY]

Maxim writer David Peisner gave specifics on how his editors recently faked up reviews of two albums neither they nor Peisner had heard: deception and chicanery. Who would imagine?! Freelancer Peisner told the LA Times he agreed to write two "previews" of new albums from the Black Crowes and Nas, and handed them in. Then the editors decided to go to town:

GOOFUS (Matthew Cooper) begins his article on Obama's economic plan by admitting that it's not really any different from Hillary Clinton's, thereby undermining his whole story from the start. "So when I sat down to write about Obamanomics, it struck me to look at the delivery, not the script," he says, launching into a pointless and unverifiable riff about his own thoughts on Obama for the rest of the article, instead of coming up with a better idea. GALLANT (Jesse Eisinger) writes a thoughtful, well argued explanatory piece on the flaws of the municipal-bond insurance market. Turns out it's all a big scam! Even if you're not an insurance fan, this piece is a great primer. Let's all be more like Gallant, shall we?

It's the end of one of the great magazine marriages: deputy editor Chris Tennant, right-hand viper to Radar's Maer Roshan, is leaving the magazine. The move isn't entirely surprising. Tennant (whose brain is an encyclopedia of who's fucked whom, literally and metaphorically) has lasted longer than any other veteran of the long-suffering magazine. (In the photo, Tennant is to the right.)

Vogue's editor is too jealous of her icy mystery to expose herself much in public. She gives few interviews, and shows up to fashion events shielded by a helmet of hair and dark sunglasses. That makes Wintour's appearance before the Oxford Union, a debate club which is a playground for future British politicians, all the more unusual.

It appears the Black Crowes are not the only musical act victimized by Maxim's "educated guess preview[s]" now that rapper Nas has come forward to say that he, too, was irked to see the magazine publish a review of the album "Nigger" when he's not even done recording it yet. Like the Black Crowes album "Warpaint," "Nigger" got a decidedly "meh" 2.5 stars out of five. Nas told Page Six: "I don't know what a music rating from Maxim is . . . I don't know what it even means really." What it means, Mr. Nas, is that you've just had the honor of appearing in the premier forum for short musical fiction. (It's past the string bikini spreads, somewhere in the back of the book near the penis enlargement ads.)

Former Star editor and Jessica Coen enemy Joe Dolce is apparently knee-deep in some freelance Journalismism, writing a piece in Culture & Travel about a trip to Myanmar. There's not even any dead celebrities there! But there are some dead citizens once in a while, which has Joe "contemplating the ethics of traveling to a country with an oppressive regime." We can think of no one better to judge. [WWD]

It must truly be the end of print if Real Simple, that charming Time Inc publication about "Life Made Easier," is advertising "10 New Uses for Newspaper." (We hear that they're good to wrap around your feet if you're homeless and sleeping outside!) What are the rest? Hint: did you know that newspapers are actually quite "absorbent, because [newsprint] has to absorb ink"?

The Men's Health editor, who blames flabby abs for all male ailments in a best-selling recent book, threatens to display his washboard stomach. Zinczenko was putting aside his media persona, hetero lifestyle coach and aggressive top, to watch the Oscars with the gays at New York magazine's party last night at West Village restaurant, the Spotted Pig. Later in the evening, Zinczenko forced New York's editor, Adam Moss, to strip off his shirt. Hot! (At any rate, for the magazine industry).

This is just the type of stupid internet thing that helps us keep the faith that the web is not yet a medium totally co-opted by corporate media powers such as Gawker: Highfalutin magazine of the gods The Economist lost a fight to gain control of the domain name TheEconomist.com, which for the past decade has been owned by some random IT guy in Maryland. And the best part is the guy does absolutely nothing worthwhile with the site. The magazine is stuck with Economist.com, even though they are a huge international media conglomerate with some of the most intellectual content in all of magazine publishing, and their opponent is a guy who says he wasn't even aware of the magazine's existence in 1996 when he registered the site (The Economist is 165 years old). That's what they get for only offering him $500 for the domain—the diverted web traffic is costing them lots more than that. So what does the proud owner of TheEconomist.com do with his valuable property? Below, an actual screengrab of the totally pointless thorn in the magazine's side.

Anyone have an internal email confirming the closure of Genre? We've had a couple of tips, and the newspaper's editors aren't taking calls. (The only people mourning the moribund gay title's demise, apart from the staff, will be the strippers of all sexes who have benefited from the generosity of proudly pan-sexual editor, Neal Boulton.) Update: Damn. False alarm. Boulton, a special friend of Rolling Stone supremo Jann Wenner, writes in to say Genre is walking taller and stronger than ever before. (Don't push it, mate.)

In the March issue of Maxim, writer David Peisner reviews the new Black Crowes album, "Warpaint." The verdict: Ehhh. Two and a half stars, out of five. The problem: Maxim didn't listen to the album. Their review, it turns out, was an "educated guess." Um, what? The full story, including the faux-review and the band's outraged response, below.

"We have a society columnist who looks at the computer and says, 'Over my dead body.' And that may indeed be the situation." —A city and regional publisher on the struggle to change the editorial culture at his magazine. [FOLIO]

A scary question: Is widespread product placement—a phenomenon that's already here in television and movies—going to become ubiquitous in our beloved magazines, as well? The question was debated at the FOLIO Publishing Summit, currently underway at the Doral Golf Resort & Spa in Miami. In one of Doral's more than 40 meeting rooms, several panelists said that it's only a matter of time before product placement spreads. One suggested that the issue may not be sacred to most average readers, like those leafing through their favorite magazines as they relaxed in the Doral's European inspired spa. The debate will likely continue over dinner at Doral's Champions Bar and Grill, and may even spill over into a nightcap at the poolside Cascades Bar. But contentious as the product placement issue is, it's nothing that can't be discussed politely over 18 holes on one of Doral's five championship golf courses. Regardless, it is a question of policy that not just magazines, but all forms of media need to "work out"—perhaps they should try one of Doral's personalized fitness consultations, only $100 for an hour-long Specialty Session.

These are troubled times in the magazine industry. Reed Elsevier announced today that it is selling its mag publishing division, which includes Variety and Publishers Weekly, in order to reduce exposure to "cyclicality" in ad markets. And bad news for any editors looking for employment at Meredith: their president, Jack Griffin, says "We don't hire editors any more. We hire content strategists." Hope they teach that at Medill! But the real question is, is the magazine industry actually changing as quickly and perilously as business types seem to think?