We really can't imagine anything more amusing than Boldface Names lackey David Jay Lansky proving his urban authenticity to Bishop Don Magic Juan, the man best known for being the pimplike hanger-on to rapper Snoop Dogg. The nonsensical exchange:
Great news for Dennis Quaid, his wife, and the rest of New York's strip club patronage: a new place is coming to town for beautiful (yet slightly misshapen) breasts to be bared. Rick's Cabaret, a chain of "classy" pole-dancing havens in New Orleans and Houston, will be opening in a 33rd street location formerly housing the Paradise, courtesy of Texas businessman Eric S. Langan.
There's more closeted veiled ruminations on the spanking-new marriage of erstwhile "whatever" boy Fabian Basabe, today coming from the Times. And, well, if the sage Boldface Names column is dropping clues, you know you best pay attention. But the fairy godmother of Boldface Names, Joyce Wadler, loves being as delightfully abstruse as possible, so we've taken the liberty of emphasising the important parts in today's column:
Fed up with reviews that sometimes have little or no basis in reality (is Masa really worth sacrificing your rent? Need we really imagine a Back to the Future scenario to understand Bistro du Vent?), the downtown foodies at Verbose Coma drop the science on Times restaurant critic (and part-time blogger) Frank Bruni:
We noticed a round-up of current photography books in this weekend's Times, written by one Philip Gefter. Mr. Gefter, of course, is the former NY Times page one photo editor, the current Arts & Leisure photo editor, and the man who once got in trouble at the Times for anthropomorphizing turkeys in a photo caption. (We're surprised the Times copy desk didn't have him killed for that.)
One of his interns must've sat William Safire down in front of the computer and showed him a 'blog,' or 'web log' recently. How else to explain why The Times lame duck op-ed columnist would bother to write about blogs in his journalism state of the union address yesterday?. (Speaking of blogs: we checked one out this weekend: apparently some young woman's boyfriend is having problems at work and their relationship is suffering, but she can't wait for the new Beck CD to come out and she wants a pair of shoes she saw in a movie. Good stuff.)
This Sunday's Times seems a bit fixated on doughnuts: Dunkin' Donuts, to be precise.
It's been way too long since we paid attention to our Auntie Joyce Wadler, the quasi-gossip columnist for the Times. You know you can't trust those nurses to take care of her. Anyhow, it's a good think we checked in when we did. It seems Joyce has lost all sense of journalistic sensibility, as she's gone and fallen in love with Clive Owen:
Can someone please cast this woman in their next production?
Christmas simply never ends around here: I just received a phone call from Amanda Tree, the mysterious New York dog-walker who showed up twice in the New York Times. Amanda was more than eager to assert her existence and, after I said that I was sure she was a real person and that Gawker was just having a little fun with the situation, she proceeded to tell me a lot of things. Like her life story. Gee, thanks Amanda! The highlights:
