Don't forget: today — 12/12/12 — is the last repetitive date you'll see in your life, unless you are very young and prone to longevity. Which means it's also the last time you'll see content-free fluff pieces seeking to assign some kind of meaning to the arbitrary assemblage of numbers spewed out by our latest pitiful attempt at measuring out the blank incoherence of time. New York magazine's Stefan Becket turned up the New York Times article from the last time this happened, "12-12-12: That's To-day, and It's a Long Time Till Another Strange Date Line," and it's a masterpiece of word-padding form:

As the world beats its collective breasts over Kim Kardashian's divorce, here's another hypothesis on why she would marry and leave a man so quickly: Kim always said she thought she'd be married with children by age 30. With her 31st birthday in late October, her (lucrative) life narrative required that she tie the knot.

Ron Gordon, a retired teacher from Redwood City, California, says we should celebrate today, 07/09/11, as "Odd Day," because it's "one of only six dates this century that features three consecutive odd numbers." He's even set up a website and a prize-money contest to celebrate.

Meet George Lippitt, who turned 10 at 10:10 a.m. on 10/10/10. If this were a book, he would become a wizard, or something, but it's real life, so he just got a cake in the shape of the number 10.

This article today does us all a great service by reminding us to remind you that numerology—like the concept of juice-based "cleansing" systems—is bullshit. If you believe in it, stop now. It is so dumb.

Vanity Fair's annual "New Establishment" list is out—the highly subjective guide to the 100 most important people in Graydon Carter's world. We bring you the highlights, below.

Future president Mitt Romney is both a "Bainiac"—a data-obsessed business android indoctrinated into Bain and Company's cultish worldview—and a Mormon. So his foreign policy is a weird, numerological, schematic mess. Here it is in PowerPoint, his native language.

New York Lottery officials had to shut down betting on the number "871" on Tuesday, the Daily News reports. That's the number of Governor Spitzer's sexy hotel room, and wagers on it hit the maximum of $5 million. But it was loser; instead, "662" hit. Which is the year of the death of Christian theologian Maximus the Confessor—whose moniker describes what Eliot Spitzer was recently forced to do regarding his scandal. Read between the lines, gamblers!