• On the off chance that you fail to realize that Nasdaq may be full of shady, disreputable companies after reading this well-reported Chris Byron piece, the Post's Photoshop department helpfully provides the graphic above. Get it? They're mobsters! [NYP]
• The secret Segway conspiracy against black people continues. [NKT]
• Meanies at ugliest residential location in Manhattan refuse to allow you to recreate in the monstrosity's shadow. [Curbed]
• If you're looking for Mickey Kaus, head no further than your nearest Gap. He'll be rocking out to "What Do All the People Know?' in the denim department. [Kausfiles, Sunday entry]
• Why did Snakes on a Plane fail to meet expectations? The answer may have something to do with the snakes. [AdFreak]
• Don't forget, tomorrow may bring fiery death from above. The WSJ editorial board has prepped an opinion linking it all to the estate tax just in case. [Wonkette]
• An e-mail from New York magazine claims that this week's Approval Matrix coined the term Shyamaladenfreude, or "the pleasure derived from M. Night Shyamalan's misfortunes." Of course, the LAT used it a month ago. Sounds like a case of Mossappropriation to us. [Google search]
• Try reading this piece on Mark "Cobrasnake" Hunter in the voice and inflections of a 13-year-old girl and it almost sounds plausible. [Paper]

From online rest stop Craigslist, one of the better postings we've seen in a long time:

Pity poor Paul LoDuca - as if gossip about gambling and allegations of affairs with teenaged temptresses weren't enough, we've now entered the territory where his prowess is being probed. Today's Post introduces us to the Met's catcher's latest paramour, nineteen-year-old Christina Alisio. Alisio (described as "pretty," "fresh-faced," and twice as "the young woman") rated his performance as ""...all right but below what I expected." For the record, LoDuca has denied the allegations (we would too; how bad in bed do you have to be to disappoint a Philly chick?) but it doesn't look like the story is going away anytime soon, especially if this cartoon from the latest New Yorker is any indication.

This morning's New York Post finally crossed the line, sharing an agonizing moment at the end of a woman's life with the whole world. We're in utter sympathy with her loved ones, who not only have to see her in this condition, but know that everyone else has seen it, too.

Those compassionate soldiers at the Post feel for their rival army over at the News, today revealing that in addition to the "purge of employees hired by or associated with former Daily News President Les Goodstein," (including flack Donna Dees, canned yesterday), the organization has become a theater of terror where a pledge of fealty to EIC Martin Dunn is now a job requirement. "Adding to frayed nerves is word that management is monitoring all e-mail to see who's corresponding with News Corp. or The Post. Some News staffers also fear their phones are tapped."

Great piece in the Post today on interns, many of whom suffer terrible indignities for little or no pay. I know, can you believe it? The story, written by Veronica Thew and Christopher Cassuto (we want to know which one came up with the line, "The devil, it seems, doesn't always wear Prada;" it's both humorous and timely!) is full of anecdotes from actual interns about the actual abuse they've endured. This one caught our eye:

This is so weird, but Monday morning we had this crazy dream: due to all sorts of tensions, Chris Wilson was leaving Page Six in the very near future. And then, today, OUR DREAM CAME TRUE. So freaky, right? It's like the one time we dreamed that we could fly and then, two days later, we dropped acid and really could fly.

Our earlier look at the Post's attempt to paint of picture of Paul LoDuca-fucker Krista Guterman with mere prose got us to thinking: What does a girl have to do to merit a "beautiful" rating from the paper? What sets you as "sexy"? Where's the line between "sultry" and "sweet"? Well, we sat down and did a little research on some recent stories. The results are after the jump.

Understanding the relationship between Mets catcher Paul Lo Duca and his 19-year-old mistress Krista Guterman, as dictated by word choice in the New York Post:

We're a little more fuzzy than usual right now, having just awoken from the most fantastic dream. We can't remember all of the details, but it took place in the near future — perhaps even this week — and we were just plugging along through these stereotypical dog days, praying for a picture of Suri or a date with Jared Kushner (our subconscious wanderings are very realistic). Then the dream got really, really random: grizzled Page Six reporter Chris Wilson had announced, of all things, that he was taking a new job. Going somewhere for more money (maybe Radar, maybe Southern Living?), maybe going sooner rather than later because, despite whatever retractions, he's still the prime suspect in leaking word of bossman Richard Johnson's DUI. We can't remember all the details but, whatever the backstory, we clearly dreamed that Wilson was leaving P6. Like, leaving now.

As expected, both tabs give prominent coverage to the rescue of gorgeous, young Rachel Bruno. (The Post actually used four writers.) It turns out the State Senate Majority Leader's granddaughter was found wandering about Times Sqaure, and, wait for it - may have been "'forced into some type of conduct' by a man who once pleaded guilty to bribing cops for information about prostitutes." That's right, we've got a pretty blonde girl with political connections who may have been pimped out. Better yet, the alleged (or "self-declared," as the News has it) pimp? He's black! This is like the perfect storm of sleaze newspaper stories.

It's rare that we agree with Andrea Peyser, whose scowling column photo is generally an accurate predictor of the content within, but this Saturday she had a column that was shockingly good, by Post standards. Contrasting the coverage of the murders of Jennifer Moore and Imette St. Guillen to that of Brooklyn victim Chanel Petro-Nixon, Peyser made the all-too-correct point that we've heard little about Petro-Nixon's slaying because, well, she's black. It was a brave statement to make, especially in the Post, which covers bad things happening to pretty women with laser-like intensity. Peyser should be congratulated for using her column to point out the mainstream media's lack of interest in victims of color, as should the Post.

Stand back, ladeez — the line forms at the left. We take back anything bad we've ever said about the New York Post purely for the gift of Bulgarian animator Tzanko Tchangov. Based in New York but not a U.S. citizen, Tchangov is the main subject of the NYP story about noncitizens' struggles to obtain green cards or work visas. The article's worth reading, but first, simply enjoy distilled Tchangov quotes, sans context:

Today's Post asks the question on everyone's mind: Should Hillary Rodham Clinton return campaign donations from a known adulterer Peter Cook, who cheated on Christie Brinkley with hot piece of twat Diana - eh, you know it all by now. Clinton couldn't tell The Post whether or not she'd give back Cook's $13,000 in donations. Neither did she tell the paper if she'd give back the cash raised at the recent fundraiser hosted by known adulterer Rupert Murdoch, whose affair with Wendi Deng ended his thirty-six year marriage to second wife Anna, although presumably they didn't ask her that one. In any event, we're more interested in the picture here:

After winning 74 consecutive games of Jeopardy! and snatching $2.52 million, Joseph Smith's most chosen disciple Ken Jennings has a few suggestions for the classic game show, which he likens to the "Dorian Gray of syndication":

An interesting tidbit from Eat the Press:

Understanding the relationship between Christie Brinkley's estranged husband Peter Cook and his 19-year-old mistress, as dictated by word choice in the New York Post:

We remember an old bit from some comedian (we want to say Jeffrey Ross) that questioned the challenges involved in being a toll collector: How difficult, he asked, could your job be if when you called in sick they replaced you with a basket? Well, the Triborough Bridge and Tunnel Authority apparently takes the rigors of the role quite seriously: They're being sued by one Juliana Medina, who says the TBTA wouldn't let her make change because she walks with a cane. While not as familiar with the intricacies of disabilities law as we should be, we're pretty sure that this is an open-and-shut case. What's more interesting to us here is the subhead The Post used in its report on the story: "Gimpy Gal vs. TBTA."

In the accompanying photo, observe journalist, author, and verbal pugilist Ian Spiegelman in 2003, making doe eyes at publicist Katie MacIntosh, while the visage of Radar editor Maer Roshan lurks in the background. Spiegelman looks so cheerful! He's positively beaming. Why, then, is he so shovey of late? Poor Toby Young got his book party upstaged by Spiegelman's antics, which is ironic considering Young's own unfunny staged play-beating. All that aside, what do you need to know about Ian Spiegelman, should you spot him in the wild? More than you would ever care to learn, and then some, after the jump.

The bit of loveliness you see here comes from the Post's Pulitzer-baiting examination of the bridge and tunnel crowd. (Your takeaway: Clubs like them because they spend a lot of money; being Italian-Americans, they tend to be too stupid to read the bill.) The chart above would seem to be a gratuitous swipe at merely two of the elements that make our city so objectionable, but even so, forcing us too choose between Princess Coldstare and The Crappo del Tutti Crappy is shockingly unfair. Can't we call it a draw?