Sarah Tressler, the Piven-schtupping stripper caught living a shameful secret life as a society reporter, broke her silence on Good Morning America today. She says employer The Houston Chronicle fired her for "not disclosing" her secret sidejob as an "Angry Stripper" with an anonymous blog. (The Chronicle won't comment on what happened.) She doesn't seem too upset, though.

Well, well, well. It turns out that the Col Allan, the New York Post's penis-rubbing, stripper-loving editor-in-chief, enjoys a very chummy relationship with Anna Gristina, the alleged Manhattan Madam whose recent arrest is spreading panic amongst her reportedly A-list client list. And in a stunning instance of New York news omerta, Allan's archrival the New York Daily News knew all about the relationship but sat on it for weeks.

Yesterday, University of Texas- Austin student newspaper The Daily Texan won our coveted "Most Racist Trayvon Martin Cartoon" contest for Stephanie Eisner's "WHITE man" vs. "COLORED BOY" media critique pictured above. The paper briefly pulled the cartoon offline when the controversy struck, but put it back up last night, along with an editor's note. Today: the fallout.

Mustachioed soothsaying simpleton Thomas Friedman long ago mastered a formula for justifying business trips all over the world by writing columns about them—columns that, while not genuinely insightful or even pleasant to read, contain a sufficient number of plausible-sounding platitudes to enable your average Xerox Corporation regional manager to sound informed during his morning meeting with underlings and sycophants.

Here's cartoonist Stephanie Eisner's latest political cartoon published in the Daily Texan, the student paper at the University of Texas- Austin. You can see "The Media" there, telling its lies again, about how the BIG BAD WHITE [*a bunch of arrows pointing to "white"*] man killed the handsome, sweet, innocent COLORED [*a bunch of arrows pointing to "colored"*] BOY. Oh, you media. Always trying to pull the wool over the WHITE man's eyes, to protect the COLORED BOYS. Blarrrrrggghhhhh.

Following last year's Tiny Furniture, indie darling Lena Dunham emerged as a break-out voice of a generation. Her new show Girls is a realistic, ballsy, awkward, humiliating, intimate, honest take on what it is to be a young Millenial, a 20-something female archetype living in New York City dealing with STDs, abortion, financial woes, orgasms, body issues and being stuck in the in-between space when you are "not a girl not yet a woman." It's unlike anything else on TV.

Texan stripper Sarah Tressler has been shamed into silence by the shocking revelation that, by day, she is a journalist. She is a society reporter for The Houston Chronicle.

There are no better symbols of the rotten soul of the Washington, DC press corps than its annual "Cocksuckers to Power" dinners, when journalists emerge from their cave to backslap with and be patronized by the very politicians that they are supposed to be covering in an aggressive manner, on behalf of the public. The White House Correspondents Dinner is the most high-profile example of this sickening vomitorium of fellatio of power. Now its prime competitor, The Gridiron Dinner, is getting jealous.

Whenever the first snow falls, or the first hot day of summer strikes, or when the heat gives way to autumn's crisp air, or when the chill of winter finally breaks for spring, or just when there isn't shit happening in the world, the Paper of Record published one of its trademark "weather stories." This is not simply a report on the day's weather; it is a report on the day's weather masquerading as a news story.

Since you're reading this site while you should be doing something more productive, chances are that you're the kind of self-proclaimed "internet-savvy" media consumer who said to yourself last year, "Hey, I don't care that the New York Times started an online paywall, because it comes with 20 free articles per month, and besides, it's full of easy holes for an internet-savvy consumer such as myself!"

New York Magazine cover stories that purport to capture and explain some element of our current zeitgeist are not to be taken seriously. Just to be clear. Only people hermetically sealed in bubbles of Manhattan privilege would even labor under the delusion that such works of artful fiction were meant to be "believed," in a literal sense. Still—it is bothersome that they continue to be foisted upon the public. Why not just publish a collection of knock-knock jokes, instead? They'd contain more wisdom.

Daily Caller reporter Matthew Boyle, during an email fight with DNC Communications Director Brad Woodhouse:

Last time agitprop pop star M.I.A. fought a journalist, she tweeted Lynn Hirschberg's phone number. This time around, M.I.A. accused Anderson Cooper of calling her a terrorist—and then backed down when Anderson turned out to be an M.I.A. whisperer. Apparently you just have to compliment her middle finger, and all will be forgiven.

"The future looked so bright for tiny Til, a baby rabbit born without ears three weeks ago," Der Spiegel reports. For little Til was born in the east German town of Limbach-Oberfrohna, and Germans are a people known for their love of adorable mutants and pathetic baby animals. Like an earless, 8-year-old Lindsay Lohan from the family Leporidae, Til was destined for stardom.

Here is a story on the New York Post's website about a jury ruling that Americo Lopes, a New Jersey man who hit a $77 million lottery jackpot, must share his winnings with his coworkers, who were in a lottery pool with him. The details of this story are unimportant. It is fascinating because, like a petri dish freshly set with agar gel, it has attracted every variety of Awful Internet Commenter. Behold:

Put on your thinking caps, go into active listening mode, and stretch out your inside voices, Washington Post employees: it's time for a good old-fashioned in-house daylong corporate brainstorming session. No idea is too wacky to win the $1,000 prize! Looking at you, Hipness Desk. So remember to RSVP for this big event, #PostDisrupt. Is it on Twitter? No, there's just a hash tag in the name. For reasons of #Disrupt #Journalism #Hipness #BobWoodwardIsDoneAndWeNeedSomethingBig. The full email is below.

Harper's Magazine publisher John R. "Rick" MacArthur is a man who was born wealthy and has used some of his wealth to publish a great magazine. That's good. Where he pays his staff notoriously meager salaries and fights against their efforts to form a union. That's bad. Rick MacArthur, though, has one overriding redeeming aspect: he is fucking hilariously dumb when he talks about the internet.

It looks like the biggest guillotine thus far has fallen (again) in the News Corp phone hacking scandal: British police have reportedly arrested Rebekah Brooks—former editor of the tabloids News of the World and The Sun, as well as former CEO of News International, News Corp's UK newspaper division, and a close friend and confidante of the Murdoch family. Brooks resigned from News International last year and was arrested last summer in the earlier stages of the phone hacking investigation. She was given a hefty going-away package last year.

Everyone is buzzing today about the new ethics for Internet reporting dictated by David Carr (correction: Carr is not involved in the plan, he merely wrote about it), Simon Dumenco, Adam Moss and a few other notables, and by everyone I mean a bunch of nerds who write things on the Internet, myself included.

This weekend's appalling shootings of Afghan civilians by a U.S. soldier bring back memories of the My Lai massacre in the Vietnam War.