· A new dress code for the New York Times ad sales staff requires closed-toe shoes, which makes their whiney feet hot. Naughty Capri pants are out of the question as well. [Page Six]
· More publicity for the launch of Time Inc.'s latest venture, All You mag. A retail agreement with Wal-Mart? Good, we'll never have to see it. [MediaPost]
· Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia buys up Body & Soul magazine and a wellness newsletter. Way to drag 'em down with ya, MSLO. [NYT]
· Former Voice editor Jon Carroll recalls good old days at the Voice, a cloudy nostalgia probably only inspired by an extreme intake of substances in the mid-70s. Why is it our fault he did so much acid he grew gills? [SF Chron]
· We don't care about anything else today. All over Manhattan, the boys are busy fantasizing that they're Jim McGreevey's gay fucktoy.

Al Goldstein, former publisher of Screw and one-time host of the world's scariest public access show — "Midnight Blue," which seemed to often end with Goldstein screaming about how Rudy Giuliani could suck his "tiny wrinkled Jewish cock" — needs a job, as he seems to be homeless, on probation, and penniless. Why doesn't the world's loudest pornographer have a monthly column in Details? Goldstein practically invented the shock vulgarity that passes for humor today. Hell, I'd hire him, if we didn't already have a full-time pornographer on staff. Think of the children — won't you please do something?
68 and Sleeping on Floor, Ex-Publisher Seeks Work [NYT]

On Monday, a federal judge found Time reporter Matthew Cooper in contempt of court for refusing to testify in the investigation of the outing of CIA "operative" Valerie Plame. The whole thing is just a big messy-mess of ethics and whatnot — so if you want something that'll make people's eyes glaze over at cocktail parties, we'll gladly walk you through the important stuff after the jump.

Hot: Mike Wallace, the 86-year-old dude on "60 Minutes," got beat down and hauled off to jail by Taxi and Limousine Commission cops last night. It's about time someone took care of this menacing old man! Good God! Anyway, who knew TLC cops could arrest anyone? I thought they just harrassed cab drivers.

We don't know how to handle Slate's revelation that behind the glossy, sticky pages of Maxim magazine there are actual writers. We didn't think the staff knew how to do much more than work with a little Photoshop.

Is the New York Times hiring Steven Reddicliffe — the former editor of TV Guide — as their TV editor? That would be, to say the least, an unusual choice. Well, the Times always says it wants to get in touch with the common people. Please note: if this rumor were a terror alert, it would only be midway on the scale, somewhere near the yellow level.

Columnist/blogger Matthew Yglesias, who none of you have ever heard of because he's only famous in D.C. and in the offices of The American Prospect, finally does something useful: a summary of this weekend's NYT and WaPo columnists.

We've ignored our favorite liquor-tippler and Vanity Fair crazy-man Christopher Hitchens lately, but that's just because we were tired of the recurring nightmares. We'd even repressed our memories of the reissue of his 1990 book, Blood, Class and Empire. A reader reminds us of his existence with this hilarious Amazon.com user review of the book:

Ya know, today's New York Times has us wondering if they're serving crazy con carne in the cafeteria over on 43rd. Oh, what mayhem ensues:

The LAT reports that Vincent Gallo's self-congratulatory monument to non-simulated, cinematic oral sex has been taken down from its perch above Sunset Boulevard—because it's gotten too much publicity. And the LAT somehow construes the billboard's removal as it having "backfired." Let's see...the gigantic image of Gallo getting blown over the Strip let the entire world know about The Brown Bunny, a micro-budgeted indie film whose previous claim to fame was Gallo's cursing of Roger Ebert's colon, and both the NYT and LAT did stories on it before "too much publicity" caused the ad's removal. We think the only backfiring may be that Gallo will probably never get another blowjob without a thorough check of the room at the Motel 6 for a digital video camera.

· The Gossip Wars continue, kinda. NY Daily News columnist Lloyd Grove attempts to throw some more animosity at Page Six but instead comes off as slightly "nicey." Or kinda dickless. Come on, Lloyd, bring the hate! We know you know how. [CBS MarketWatch]
· Jane magazine gets a redesign: less funky, more pretty. Boo! [WWD]
· Time, Inc. continues its wacky expansion project. Next up: Find!, the magazine spin-off of your grandma's favorite PBS program, "Antiques Roadshow" (with your favorite hot (if sleazy) antique-loving brothers). Ha ha: FIND! We're gonna be screaming that all weekend. FIND! Oh my God, I'm dying. [NYP]

Oh, now we get it. The "tell-all" book about Playboy hanger-on Jill-Ann Spaulding's horrifying experiences at the Mansion was ghostwritten by Hefner's PR team! Page Six has this excerpt from an interview with Steppin' Out magazine, and the omission of any references to the elaborate system of air hoses and pulleys that allows desiccated ladies' man Hugh Hefner to sustain an erection reveals the stinky fingerprints of Playboy publicity:

In a very excitable press release this morning, Salon celebrates its first quarter fiscal year 2005 results.

When editor David Remnick said his New Yorker's circulation numbers certainly hadn't grown because of their Paris Hilton coverage, we all silently nodded in agreement and thought, "Yes, and you're so fired." We did not, however, think to run a spoofed memo from Remnick to his staff — that just seemed a little, you know, obvious. Nevertheless, it's Friday, and we'll print any fucking thing today, so here's Hartford Courant columnist Denis Horgan:

1. Former Village Voice media critic Cynthia Cotts was not, repeat, WAS NOT FIRED from her job. As we originally reported, she left of her own free will — and we salute that.
2. We don't actually hate Village Voice party girl Tricia Romano, a misconception that may have been promoted by our quoting from someone else who does profess to hate her. We find her punky and refreshing and fun. In fact, we enjoy all New Yorkers who hate New York. We're kind of hating it today ourselves.
3. We officially regret referring to the Village Voice as "long-suffering shadow of its former self that would make its co-founder Norman Mailer roll over in his grave if he were actually dead." We also regret implying that they are battening down their hatches and, by our analysis, trimming both fat and lean from the publication for an impending sale of the paper.

Yesterday, we linked to this Reviewing Entertainment Weekly blog post where the manager of controversially tubby actor Ken Wahl went off on unfunny EW list-compiler Dalton Ross. (Sample level of discourse: calling Ross out on his "scrawny little frame.") Since then, the action in REW's comments has only gotten more heated, with manager SHERRY SALERNO (all-caps hers) facing off against someone who may be Ross or a Ross imposter. Discussed in the comments: Wahl's weight, Wahl's possible alcoholic beverage intake, and a supposed call by Ross apologizing to Wahl's wife (one of the semi-famous, top-heavy Barbi Twins, stay with us now) for the article. We'll continue to monitor the situation and potentially triple the number of times Ken Wahl's name has been mentioned since the dawn of the internet.

We're kind of reeling today: we now have to reevaluate everything we think about Conde Nast — and perhaps everything we think about the big Nastie daddy, editorial director James Truman.

Shop Etc., the new Hearst shopping magazine, had a freebie-filled launch party last night at Milk Studios. We were totally going to leave the house for it, but we thought maybe we'd like to save what's left of our soul. The first brave report from others:

If you're afraid that Pamela Anderson's just-released Star: A Novel might not be the literary work that blows the roof off the Playboy mansion, maybe you'll have better luck with Jill Ann: Upstairs, the "expose" by former Playmate Jill Ann Spaulding that promises "explicit details about the sexual secrets of Hefner and his playmates." Watch out, Hugh, one of your pneumatic harem is coming after you, and she's not fucking around with thinly-veiled fiction, she's going straight for the tell-all—and she was probably smart enough to hire a ghostwriter. Selections from the press release after the jump:

The Reviewing Entertainment Weekly blog prints an irate letter from onetime Wiseguy actor Ken Wahl's manager, who's livid about Dalton Ross' profile of the actor in this week's EW. The manager gets in a cheap shot about Ross' physique, but puzzlingly lets him off the hook for the lame stabs at humor in his weekly "Hit List." Anyway, the letter is a must-read for fans of ALL-CAPS, angry correspondence, and obscure actors: