The 4-foot yellow rat snake, which we will call "Serpent Fang" startled some kids in the apartment. Where it was just kind of sitting there. NYPD responded with overwhelming force:

Police trapped it with a broom and a plastic bag, and it was taken to the Center for Animal Care and Control. Animal control spokesman Richard Gentles says the snake is non-venomous, and in good health.

The the New York Post and the Daily News and the AP and damn near every TV news operation in the city did stories about the trapping of this rat snake, a cold-blooded, flesh-hungry, dead-eyed breed described by experts as "Easy, an ideal beginner's snake. Hardy, tolerant of handling and tractable enough for children."

Just wait until someone spots a stray cat. Those things have claws!
[Pic via]

Since loudly leaving CNBC in late March, Ratigan had been rumored to be going to ABC, perhaps to Good Morning America.

"In ABC's mind, they had—and have—a deal with Ratigan," says a source with knowledge of the negotiations. "This wasn't a handshake deal. This was a deal deal. ABC got fucked, royally."

Ratigan, who has said his ambitions run more toward David Letterman than David Brinkley, will anchor MSNBC from 9 a.m. to 11 a.m.

News of Ratigan's departure from CNBC were accompanied by a leak to Page Six of a tape of him screaming at his producers: "I'm not going to host a fucking TV show that consists of reading fucking e-mails to fucking traders."

ABC News and Ratigan couldn't consummate their agreement because CNBC had a noncompete clause in Ratigan's contract, which barred him from negotiating with competitors until six months after he left. But CNBC could waive that clause, which it clearly did in order to let its sister network snatch Ratigan from ABC News's grasp.

Ratigan's move from CNBC to MSNBC, which are both units of NBC Universal, was expertly orchestrated—instead of simply working his way over internally, he left suddenly, with an attendant tabloid story making the announcement, and put himself on the open market so ABC News could bid up his price. Then he wound up back in the embrace of the same company, presumably with a tidy raise.

"If MSNBC is paying this guy what ABC would have paid him," the source says, "then they are way overpaying him."

An ABC News spokesman, citing the noncompete clause, denies that the network was ever in negotiations with Ratigan: "You can't lose something you never had."

The T.M.I. Awards used to be a thing we did every weekend, going through all the personal essays that had been published in the papers and giving out prizes when we saw someone stretch the form in a new and surprising way. This week the awards are back for some reason. Some complicated love tangles after the jump, along with a pile of unsavory emotions and a MIMS joke.

Best husband: Kevin Mims, the author of this week's edition of Modern Love. Why is Mims hot? Because he's managed to convince his wife Julie to let him be a "writer" all his life while she goes to work everyday as an as escrow officer to make the ends meet. Also because he's not above outing Frank, the father of his wife's children as a jealous, contemptible creep. One wonders how much that freelance check was for.

Best ex-husband: Frank! He was married to Julie years before Mims took the reigns, but he divorced her at 24 because he was sick of having a wife and kids while his friends were out having fun. According to Mims, he has wanted her back ever since; also he's handsome, women love him, but he doesn't love them.

Least intuitive approach to quotation/content is an easy one for Bob Morris's Styles essay, "Vice Is Bad For a Reason," which begins in a supermarket when Bob notices the new Diet Coke Plus on the shelf. Then:

"This is hilarious," I said as I pointed it out to the shopper next to me.
"Isn't there enough stuff in Diet Coke already?" she said.

Most unpleasant person who probably loves Monty Python and Jurassic Park: Frank Gannon again:

I used to play golf a lot, but then I hurt my back. It pained me now even to address the ball. After my injury (I fell out of my attic), I still went to golf courses, but I did not play. I just rode around in golf carts with people who were playing and made withering comments, which I found amusing for a while.

Best use of strangely ostentatious casual racism: Gannon again, the rascal, describing his state of mind after popping two Darvocets and heading to the golf course: "I would appear stately and aloof rather than sad and drugged. So I started out, with lots of love in my heart for all my fellow golfers. I holla at them, whatever that means." On second thought, this is a hilarious joke.

To justify our optimism we will give you an example: we were riding the subway and noticed this sign for the MTA lost and found department.

Naturally, you would expect in a city like New York that some effort would be made to reunite people with their lost dentures, crutches, and balls of yarn. These are things people need to live. But it was an item to the left of the sign that stoked the fires of hope in our bosom.

Not only can you bring live cobras onto the subway, there is actually a department that handles lost cobra claims in the event you and your cobra should be separated. We're going to be fine, people.