Magazine-turned-web guru Tina Brown has never claimed her design sense was that original. At the stillborn Talk, she opted for a portable format, a magazine published on thin paper that could be rolled up and carried around like a European newsweekly such as Stern. And that same inspiration is shared by her baby news website, the Daily Beast. "I've always loved the look of the European smart tabloids," she says with the sophistication that comes from a media career on both sides of the Atlantic. There's just one problem: the logo of the new IAC-backed website looks more like that of the Philadelphia Daily News, the tabloid paper of New York's rather dowdy southern neighbor.

Tina Fey's 30 Rock is perhaps the most critically-acclaimed show on network television (and about network television), an arch meta-comedy about the production of a fake sketch comedy. But maybe the show's writers are too good at their jobs — and too willing to please NBC executives on whose whims the ratings-challenged comedy will live or die. New York talked to a variety of industry players about the clever way 30 Rock integrates paid product placements from the likes of Verizon, Snapple and women's beverage SoyJoy. Some, like Oz creator Tom Fontana and film-producer-turned ad man Charles Rosen think the show handled the product insertions in such a brilliant, self-mocking fashion that it lit the way for other shows to so likewise. Joss Whedon, the beloved creator of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, said that may be precisely the problem. He took particular umbrage at miniature episodes 30 Rock ran inside American Express ads:

Will the Times end up like the Wall Street Journal, sold off by disgruntled, money-grubbing family members? To find out, New York investigated the fifth generation of the Times' controlling Sulzberger family. The good news, for those who want to see the Times stay in family hands, is that none of these young men and women (some shown in this handy PDF chart) would talk smack about their poorly-managed company to a reporter, in contrast to the Bancrofts who sold off the Journal. All family kids are being indoctrinated at special "orientation sessions," camps and annual business meetings, starting at age 10. Everyone stays connected on Facebook, including an 87-year-old Sulzberger grandmother. The bad news: No one knows if this unity will hold together when the company cuts unsustainably high stock dividend. Also, the family twentysomethings seem at least as unlikely to ever run the company as acid-dropping Pinch Sulzberger did 35 years ago. Here, for example, is what Judith Sulzberger's young grandson Alex Cohen recently wrote on his Facebook:

Sure, the S&P 500 fell 9 percent last week as financial problems spread further beyond Wall Street. But now one troubled bank. Wachovia, is in such high demand that the federal government had to step in to mediate a dispute between two bitterly competing suitors, Citigroup and Wells Fargo. This must be great news for the economy, because Citigroup CEO Vikram Pandit has lost the scowl added to his Wall Street Journal woodcut in the early days of the financial crisis. See his portrait, left, taken from WSJ.com this weekend. He's even forgotten how embarrassing it was when Wells stole the Wachovia deal out from under him! This must mean the panic is over forever, right??

The New Yorker published its profile of Arianna Huffington. Though disappointingly far from the juicy takedown we hoped for, it does contain a few interesting nuggets. We learn, for example, that the Republican-divorcée-turned-internet-publisher bizarrely "hides" all three of her BlackBerrys in her bathroom at night, even though she lives only with a housekeeper and her two daughters. Her gay ex-husband Michael Huffington elaborates on how she knew of his interest in men before their marriage, saying, "in my Houston town house I sat down with her and told her that I had dated women and men so that she would be aware of it." And Huffington sounds downright proud of her lack of long-term friendships, saying, "I metabolize experiences fast." But there's so much missing, so much that should be in this 14-page story, starting first with how she runs the Huffington Post — would any male mogul be profiled at such length with so little said about how he runs his business? — and continuing through to juicer questions about her dating life and cultlike religious guru. A few specifics:

Many, many movies and TV shows have been wholly saved by the presence of a sage oldster. While there certainly is ageism rampant in Hollywood—illustrated by the fact that there are just a freaking ton of new "actors" and "actresses" starring in flicks and shows that no one over 25 could ever identify—there is still, and always has been, a beloved place for the elders. So that's the preamble. I'm getting us started with Joel Grey kicking much, much ass in 1985 when he was just starting to become an old.

Sad little street fighter and sinew exhibit Amy Winehouse (pictured, left, in somewhat better days) should not blame her troubles with drugs and life and everything in it on deeply entrenched psychological angst, severe chemical imbalance, and self-doubt. Her soul has simply been stored in a volcano and shown feel-bad propaganda for the last few million years! Or whatever crap the Scientologists sell each other for tons and tons of money! Whew! In any case, they are reaching out to the haunted songstress in the hope of robbing her blind and turning her into a proselytizer for—er, that is, they are trying to save her.

When Gawker published a selection of emails from Sarah Palin's hacked Yahoo! account, we got tons of psychotic (and anti-Semitic!) hate mail full of "Don't drop the soap in prison" jokes; Bill O'Reilly said we should go to jail forever; and cesspool blogger Michelle Malkin called Gawker "a cesspool blog." But now the real villain in all this being asked to answer for her villainy. An Alaskan activist—a Republican activist—is taking Sarah Palin to court to find out why she was using personal email accounts to conduct government business in the first place.

While some shell-shocked banking douches are selling blow-jobs as a way to cope with the economic meltdown, others are turning to more pedestrian methods to ease their stress. Namely, they're smoking their lungs out. Now that their hopes and dreams are dead, there's not much point to looking after their health, and they can be found puffing away all over the financial district like metalheads behind the high school bleachers. "Before the turmoil, says [Erick] Giliberti, a manager at Deloitte who works with mortgage-backed securities, I was maybe a pack a week.' Now? 'Probably double that...I can't stare at my computer screen anymore and watch the market collapse in front of me—I just want to get away from it.'"

During Friday's taping of Hardball, some audience members felt that this election simply isn't as hysterical as it could be, so they decided to do something about it. Host Chris Matthews was blissfully ignorant that the real show was going on just behind his back, with people in the crowd holding up signs featuring such stirring political rhetoric as "Tire Swings Are Not Toys!" and "Shawshank Redemption Deserved an Award!" Hmm... Wonder why no one in Matthews' crew let him in on the fun? Click through to view the LOLZ.

We haven't heard from moleman, former New York City Mayor, and all around horrible creature Rudy Giuliani in a while. With his Presidential ambitions turning out to be a colossal joke, and the right wing GOP base sure to find offense with his gay-friendly, cousin-marrying, adulterating ways, surely he's found a nice quiet palace where he and his money can hide away in peace? No such luck. He's doing his best to shred his last ounce of credibility by wandering the hinterland and defending Sarah Palin—in that typically nasty Giuliani way of his.

Now that her messy, messy divorce from Knight Rider/Baywatch star David Hasselhoff is finally over, Pamela Bach is freely dishing about the poor man's troubles. And, really, it behooves us to read every last detail. In 2002, for example, Hasselhoff called Bach from a hotel one dark night. "I'm drunk and I think I'm dying," he said. Then the line went dead. Berlin's most beloved singer went into rehab after that, but it didn't stick. "'I called the clinic and discovered he had checked out. I knew I had to go to him. I chartered a private plane and flew from LA to Palm Springs.’ Pamela learned that David had been taken to a local hospital, but didn’t know which one. ‘I got into a taxi and went to every hospital until I found him.’ "She discovered later that he’d drunk the entire contents of the minibar and had been found by a maid, semi-conscious and half-naked on the floor. The police had been called. This sordid episode, like so many before, was covered up by Pamela and a team of minders." And, says Bach, don't buy it if the Hoff seems to have gotten his act together lately: "To the woman who recently divorced him... Hasselhoff’s image as a self-aware, post-modern celebrity is a sham. ‘David is a falling-down drunk and I covered up for him for years. Alcoholism destroys you whether you are a regular Joe or the biggest star on the planet.’" Dayum, lady. Get a blog! [Daily Mail]

Before being found guilty of kidnapping and assault with a deadly weapon, O.J. Simpson spent his three week trial in Nevada complaining to friends and associates that he's a victim of racism. If only the Dream Team had still been around to defend him! If only Johnny Cochran wasn't dead! If only you hadn't stormed a seedy hotel room with a gang of armed thugs to get some stupid old trinkets! "This is really depressing," O.J. told an associate. "I feel like I'm back in the '50s—a black man in a white justice system. The judge is helping the prosecution as much as she can. I only hope one juror does the right thing." [P6]

Way, way back in February of 2006, Senator John McCain invited a shiny new Senator from Illinois to a meeting to discuss campaign finance reform. A day after the meeting, the junior Senator, a polite young man named Barack Obama, wrote to McCain, "I know you have expressed an interest in creating a task force to further study and discuss these matters, but I and others in the Democratic Caucus believe the more effective and timely course is to allow the committees of jurisdiction to roll up their sleeves and get to work on writing ethics and lobbying reform legislation that a majority of the Senate can support. Committee consideration of these matters through the normal course will ensure that these issues are discussed in a public forum and that those within Congress, as well as those on the outside, can express their views, ensuring a thorough review of this matter." McCain's brain somehow translated that to mean, "Go fuck yourself, ass." Because this is what he wrote back:

Comedy goddess Tina Fey came back to Saturday Night Live again last night to further demonstrate that she's the only good thing about Sarah Palin. The skit is just like the real VP debate, except not completely frustrating and pathetic. Also, props to the writers for having Joe Biden call Scranton, PA, a "genetic cesspool." Clip after the jump.

Last week, Paul Newman passed away while his contemporaries Al Pacino and Robert Deniro stunk up the screen with A Righteous Kill. And I got to wondering, when did Pacino go from the soft-spoken, menacing, understated actor that made him a legend, to this guy who just shows up and screams the end of every sentence? But then, it occurred to me, that overacting and eating the fuck out of the scenery is actually a very good thing now and then, depending on the movie or TV show. So, let us give props to the masters of straight-up over-doing it tonight, shall we? Come on, you know you love it when they go over the top, crap on the top, and then eat the top. I'll get us started after the jump.

If you had told me that someone really was making a sequel to compu-nerd classic—and greatest arcade game ever—Tron, I would have told you stop lying, liar! But, whoa, here is Jeff Bridges saying it's happening and he's part of it and he's psyched! "Yeah, that's another unique, wild experience that was too good to turn down," he says. "Engaging in that world again feels just like it did all that time ago. Basically, I'm still a child, I love being childlike, and here was another chance to play with these crazy toys. And the cutting-edge technology makes it exciting. Doing the teaser trailer for Comic-Con, I had my first experience of motion capture. And that's turning the industry on its head. It's amazing being part of that." There's such a retro love for Tron. How do you bring it up to date? Well, when we made Tron there was no internet, no cellphones. But now we have motion capture, so I think we'll get a far more successful version of the story, which is someone literally getting sucked into a video game. When we did King Kong in the 70s, one minute you'd have a shot of Rick Baker in this big suit and then you'd cut to this 80ft stiff model, and they looked nothing alike. Compare to that Peter Jackson's King Kong the technology is there and they did a wonderful job. I thought they created a beautiful Kong. So I hope that'll be the same for Tron. I am freaking there! [Guardian via OhNoTheyDidn't]

Jamie Clayton, the transsexual makeup artist who took the city by sexy storm over the summer when The Observer dubbed her "the second most beautiful girl in New York" is finally live on video. In an interview with Logo Online. She's getting recognized in the street, dating, and being subject to the clever pick-up lines of NYC boys. Lines such as, "Hey, Red," and "What's up, Slim?" Clip after the jump. Actually, there's no damned embed code. So watch it here.

How does "maverick" everyman John McCain stack up to "elitist" Barack Obama? Why, this handy charticle illustrating their assets in a side-by-side comparison speaks for itself. Spin this, you filthy rich basket case. Click through for bigger pic. [ProseBeforeHose]

Now that Britney Spears has seemingly been free of drugs and scuzzy males for a little while, her parents are hoping to make the rebirth stick by banning her from having sex for the next six months. Spears (left, in another life) has never been romantically linked to a decent man in her adult life, and that might have something to do with her parents' crap treatment of her as a fleshy commodity when she was still a kid, so one could imagine their happiest daydream lately is a celibate, childlike Britney in the body of a grown woman.