Would you be disturbed by 150 lactating women waiting outside your office to yell at you? We might be. Yesterday a swarm of breast-feeding women (calling themselves "lactivists") converged on ABC's studios to protest Barbara Walters' comments on "The View" that she felt uncomfortable sitting on a plane next to a breast-feeding mom. (Of all the shows for recent mothers to happen to be watching. "The View." Huh.)

jessicagawker: Okay, listen: I had a dream about you last night. About this. About the IMs where you ignore me.
jessicagawker: I'm dead fucking serious, dude.
jessicagawker: I dreamt that I was sending you an IM about you covering something on your site, something stupid, and YOU ANSWERED ME.
jessicagawker: You said you'd have your "assistants review the content" or something similarly formal. But then I kept bugging you, and it came out that it was your assistant IMing me from your name. He was in Tribeca, I think, so we met for coffee. He was nice and had curly hair.
jessicagawker: I'm DREAMING about this shit, Matt, so just type one damn letter and hit return and keep me from going insane.
jessicagawker: You're a remarkably cruel man.

A blueprint of the prison facilities at Guantanamo Bay help to explain admitted the desecration of the Koran by American interrogators and, more specifically, how the holy book was splashed with urine:

It's funny: For all the instances we joke about being too drunk or hungover to write, we only mean it, say, 30% of the time. If we were actually as wasted as we say we are, we certainly wouldn't be up at sunrise to write some blog. Today, however, is special: Intern Alexis got so shitfaced on Saturday night that this week's review of the New York Times Book Review is flecked with bile and verbal diarrhea. We're running it, if only so she learns her lesson about the dangers of keg stands. After the jump, Alexis does her best to control the spins.

· NYT introduces its new public editor. Staffers already looking drawing bunny ears and handlebar mustaches on his mugshot. [NYT]
· Interviewees just ram right through Tim Russert. Funny: We thought that was Anderson Cooper. [Huffington Post]
· No one in the U.S. is writing about France's anti-Semitic newspaper. Well, we don't speak French. We speak English. Duh. [HonestReporting]—WL

He's been hanging with Jenna Jameson, Marilyn Manson, Courtney Love and Motley Crue, in spite of the fact that he's kind of dorky-looking. It was only a matter of time until former NYT music scribe Neil Strauss turned into a guy who just did nothing but have sex.

Not that any of you are up early enough to watch CNN's American Morning, but in case you were up all night and happened to accidentally turn to CNN while looking for porn, you might care that CNN is remaking the whole enterprise. Out is Bill Hemmer, who is off to "pursue other opportunities." He will be replaced by Miles O'Brien, who will team with Soledad O'Brien for the most O'Briens we've seen since we got drunk in Queens last. Oh, and Jack Cafferty is moving to the 3 p.m. shift, where he will no longer scare people who are just trying to eat some damn cereal. The full memo from CNN head dog Jon Klein after the jump:—WL

A spy in Santa Maria, Calif., sends us this photo and the following missive:

The original and, to the left, the world's strangest interpretation thereof.

Hey, remember that whole Koran-in-the-toilet thing? Us neither. Apparently, back in the day (er, a month ago), Newsweek reported that American interrogators were desecrating the Koran in order to "rattle" Muslim detainees. After the requisite rioting and pressure from the men in suits, Newsweek issued a kinda-sorta retraction (read: they knew they were right). Funny, then, that shortly after poor Newsweek's reputation gets assfucked over a barrel, the Pentagon releases a report detailing five instances of desecrating the Koran. (None of these instances included flushing the toilet, but we think "splashing with urine" is close enough.)

· Hey, the Wall Street Journal did one of their creepy woodcut pictures for Michael Jackson. Something about "pushing the edge of the envelope" too. [WSJ]
· For those of you who haven't had your fill of Times-bashing today [Boston Phoenix]
· Fairly boring letter accusing Columbia Journalism Review of bias is too hot for Romenesko [Mediacrity]

How many times have you and your young professional buddies been sitting around your SoFi loft and suddenly realized that there simply isn't a restaurant out there for the discriminating Counter-Strike player? Does this only happen to me? If you were in LA, you'd be in luck:

jessicagawker: Hey, Sailor!
jessicagawker: So, how long are you going to keep running the Vaseline stuff? By my count, it's been up top for at least 16 hours.
jessicagawker: We all know you're a fan of the product, you needn't have been so blatant in its promotion. It's unethical.
[10 minutes pass]
jessicagawker: Oh my God, you just changed your headline right now. You ARE listening to me, aren't you?!

· Never one to miss an opportunity for self-promotion, Page Six reminds us that the Post is more popular than the Times, Fox News has better ratings than CNN, and Rupert Murdoch's dick is probably bigger than Ted Turner's. [Page Six]
· After trading small barbs at one another through the press, Cinderella Man co-stars Russell Crowe and Craig Bierko aren't speaking. Shocking, we know. [R&M]
· Barbados is paradise no more: Vogue editor Anna Wintour has hit the island for the wedding of Jemma Kidd, bringing terror to all bathing beauties weighing over 110 lbs. [Page Six]
· Jerry Springer confesses his discomforting level of admiration for actress Natalie Portman. [Lowdown]

Because we always strive to bring you reports of public humiliation of New York journalists, let's check in with the Universal Orlando theme park's newest attraction, "Fear Factor Live":

Crazy, creepy Clyde Haberman finds the angle no one else is working on the Deep Throat story:

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.

Summer in New York means one thing, and one thing alone: Condé Nast sports leagues! The grass is green, the air is warm, and it's time for the Vogue girls to don their Team Judgeypants t-shirts while the GQ boys to pretend they know how to throw a baseball. Start sending us scores and schedules, and we'll be at every game with oranges and juice boxes.

From one of the twentieth century's great pop singers comes one of the finest autobiographies of our time. Sweat, Freak is Michael Jackson's moving account of a loving, civilized family, of adolescent awakenings, flight from Bolshevik terror, education in England, and emigre life in Paris and Berlin. Sweat, Freak vividly evokes a vanished past in the inimitable voice of Jackson at his best.

And so the noble experiment comes to an end. I think we're all psychologically prepared for the iron curtain of paid content to be erected twixt us and the OpEd page. As a final, gala send-off, the Times has asked each one of their columnists to prepare a completely archetypical column that best defines their personal gimmick. Today, having replaced Paul Krugman with a charticle as punishment for his disrespect for the position of "Public Editor," they give us Thomas Friedman's essential self, a couple hundred words he could've written 10 years ago or 10 years from now.