And now it's time for your morning seizure:

It's funny how you spend your whole damn day trying to register for the Post's online edition — after all, you don't put this much effort into far more significant activities, like toilet training your cat. Nevertheless, the Post is your kitty litter of choice, and you'll be damned if your shitbox isn't lined just how you like it!

Breaking news: Top execs of huge media conglomerates are paid a lot of money!

The Times restaurant critic, like some alter cocker he encountered at Danny Meyer's the Modern, has a urinary problem.

He's like the Siegfried & Roy of Photoshop, sprinkling his graphic magic on our internet Vegas.

· Where does the time go? Two years ago today, Jayson Blair resigned from The New York Times. (And two years ago tomorrow, Seth Mnookin started hoarding all Newsweek's reporter's notebooks.) [Romenesko]
· New York hates Brooklyn? So what. The Chicago Tribune just lurves the borough (or at least a hackneyed, outdated caricature of it). [Chicago Tribune]
· MSNBC's newsreader isn't the only reporter Don Imus likes to beat up on. [E&P]
· Comparing the new Kojak to the old Kojak reminds us thatwell, we have no idea. That Ed Koch isn't mayor any more? Lee Siegel always goes way over our heads. [TNR] JO

Shield your eyes, delicate readers, because this week's edition of the Look Book features EXACTLY the sort of person that makes you choke on your tongue. Fredrica S. Friedman, President of Fredrica S. Friedman, Inc., is a literary agent who lunches at Michael's, wears blue tights, and believes a Fendi bag goes with everything. To each their own, but Intern Alexis has nonetheless rounded up the testosterone team of Evan Hughes, Lucas Hanft, and Jim Burke to help Fredrica and her Fendi. Their illuminating commentary after the jump.

Unclear on exactly what this Radar thing is? (We're kidding, of course. Wait. You are? Who are you? Maybe you'd be happier reading Wonkette.) We'll explain. Radar is a magazine that exists (will exist?) at the exact nexus of general-interest, urban-edge, and celebrity books. How can we know this with such certainty? Because the Radarites have generously included in their media kit a Venn diagram that explains it all:

The latest figures on newspaper circulation came out yesterday, and, as always these days, they showed that fewer and fewer people are buying the newspaper. (Something about websites and links ruining everything, is what folks keep saying. We have no idea what they're talking about.) This got us to thinking, Laphamly, about some relevant numbers.

Today's Times reports on the fascinating assertion that parents are better to their pretty children, while the less attractive spawns are cast aside. Although this study came from Canada, there might be some value in this information. Writes one:

We here at Gawker Media subscribe to the Great Man Theory of historythat, as Carlyle said, "The history of the world is but the biography of great men." (Of course, in our world, Fabian Basabe, Daniel Okrent, and Andrew Krucoff are all "great men.") So we couldn't possibly expect you to comprehend an event as magnitudinous as the (re)launch of Radar without comprehensive knowledge of the Great Men behind it. Here, then, is the inaugural installment of Radar Trading Cards, just one part of our Operation Greatest American Magazine Launch. The trading cards are free with purchase, so enjoy your Happy Meals and be sure to collect them all!

Whoever first introduced Andrew Hearst to QuarkXPress, we totally want to buy you a drink. Today, in wake of the brouhaha over Star's fake Brad-and-Angie photo, Amazin' Andrew, the heppest cat on the upper Upper West Side, quarks Bonnie Fuller a new one. JO

Congrats to Megan Bradley, our first reader to confirm that she did indeed successfully register with Col Allan's Selective Service! Megan, go get your bleaching kit, because we're flagging down Rupert.

Since you can't actually read Page Six just yet, we find the following particularly pertinent:

LOCAL TAB WEBSITE FRIGHT!

At left, the image from a wildly popular May Glamour blurb about menstrual cramps. At right, the image illustrating Jane magazine's May charticle discovery that some men hit the bottle before bumping in the boudoir.

We're even not sure we remember wtf Daniel Radosh and Peter Landesman are arguing about anymoreit's something to do with sex slaves, and a Times Magazine piece from more than a year ago, and accuracy in reporting, and blah blah blahbut we do know this is turning into one bitchin' slapfest.

Think you're so smart and clever and coy and Ellie-winning, doncha, Gopnik? From this week's Talk of the Town:

Big Brother has been watching you for eons, but today marks the beginning of some next-level shit, if you will. This morning, the New York Post online has started forcing its users to fork over their email, income bracket, and secret passwords.

In her latest review of the New York Times Book Review, Intern Alexis realizes that editor Sam Tanenhaus has hit puberty and, as such, the Review has morphed into an intolerably loquacious circle jerk starring Jonathan Lethem. When the normally manic Alexis requires prescription amphetamines just to read for another time that Nicole Krauss is Jonathan Safran Foer's wife, you know there's a problem. After the jump, she rides the snake.