[BID ON THE BOOK HERE. SERIOUSLY. IT'S FOR CHARITY.]

Realize: this is the best copy of this book in existence. Period. Bar none. And at a ceremony when the books and authors being honored have the sales of their books disproportionately inverted by their quality, it only seemed appropriate to get everybody in on The Big Joke of the evening: that more people would read Sarah Palin's Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Bullshit than any of the nominees' and winners' books, combined.

We offered the book up to some of our favorite literature and media luminaries that were in the house that evening. Dave Eggers—that asshole!—was very nice about refusing to sign our book, probably because it wasn't for his 826 charity. But he was kind. How's that for an endorsement?

Not good enough? What about super awesome sleepy Columbia MFA graduate and Freaks and Geeks actor James Franco signing our book?

Yes, this man signed our book. Okay, Jim. Maybe you made our photographer cry. But you did this one for the children. You're okay, today. Also, the nerds at Slate think you're The Sexiest Man With A Pulse, for what it's worth (read: the most ostentatious pillow talk ever). Congrats. But what if an awesome hunky dreamy movie star with an MFA from Columbia isn't enough reason to spend lots of money on a book people drew on?

Maybe 2009 National Book Award winner Colum McCann signing this bad boy is! YES THAT IS COLUM MCCANN SIGNING THE PALIN BOOK. This took a lot—a lot—of convincing. Charity, huh? But it's Sarah Palin's book! Sarah Palin! I can't put my name on anything of hers! Are you sure this is for charity? What charity?!

Funny you should ask, Mr. McCann. I've picked a charity so great, you can't even say their name out loud without feeling awful for never having done something for them until now: Save The Children. Yeah, you're gonna stiff these guys?

They've done great work bringing literacy programs to kids in need across the country, among other great things they've done for kids that otherwise don't get things done for them that should be. If I were running these programs, I would have them all reading Gawker Weekends and Calvin and Hobbes, because that's what I grew up on, but I'm not, and these people are, and we're all better off. You don't have to buy the book to give a buck. Oh, and if you complain about the charity I picked, I'll come to your house and personally beat you with an unsigned copy of Ms. Palin's 2010 NBA Fiction Winner. But yes, people actually signed this thing.

You want proof?

2009 NBA Fiction Prize winner Collum McCann (fourth page, center) really, actually did take this much convincing. He wrote: "'For we must love this poor earth, for we have not seen another...' Go Obama!" Awesome.

Ricky Van Veen and Neel Shah marvel at how incredibly awesome this book is, while Jessica Coen is laughing to herself imagining Sarah Palin read her fabulous, fierce nugget of wisdom.

Here's the guy who I thought was Toph Eggers, right. I got everyone's name wrong that night. At one point I think I remember identifying Keith Waldrop as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Jeff Bercovici signed the book as Dave Eggers, since Dave Eggers doesn't care about Saving The Children so much as making them read George Saunders or whatever.

Here're the first two pages:

And here're the second two:

And here's the full list of who we know we got:

2009 NBA Fiction Winner, Let The Great World Spin author Colum McCann.

Spider Man 2 actor and recent Columbia MFA graduate James Franco wrote (third page, top-right): "FUCK YEAH!" with a strange vampire-smiley face.

2008 NBA Fiction Finalist Salvatore Scibona (second page, middle-right) gave her "hugs."

2008 NBA Fiction Finalist Rachel Kushner (second page, bottom-left) offers her insight on context clues regarding snowmobiles.

I Was Told There Would Be Cake author by night and Random House book publicist by day Sloane Crosley offered her encouragement "storming the castle." True story: Sloane had no idea what she was signing.

The Seymore Hersh of the Sunday Styles, New York Times writer Allen Salkin took up the entire bottom-third of the fourth page ensuring that I wasn't conning him. He also drew a fairly accurate drawing of himself.

Dave Eggers! As performed/signed by former Portfolio and current Daily Finance media columnist Jeff Bercovici (fourth page, top-right).

Columnist Katie Bakes tried to start a #hashtag, while the New York Observer's publishing beat gangsta Leon Neyfakh wrote...something.

Vice and New York Press writer Jamie Peck (second-page, bottom-right, I think) talked to her about wolves. Someone who isn't Vice writer Jamie Peck, apparently, talked to her about wolves. Claim your identity here!

College Humor founder Ricky Van Veen gave Sarah a big CHILL, BABY, CHILL while Former Radar, Gawker, and Page Six writer Neel Shah got tactful.

The Awl writer Alex Balk.

Flavorwire's Kelsey Keith had more sage advice for Palin's future career aspirations.

Cartoonist Laurie Sandell drew a woman holding a smoking gun on the third page. Get it?

Gawker Past and Present: Media Overlord Nick Denton and current Gawker Editor-in-Chief Gabriel Snyder both thanked her for pageviews—heh—while founding Gawker editor Elizabeth Spiers wished her luck, and Gawker J²-era/New York Magazine editor Jessica Coen gave her hair tips.

Oh, and me, lending to this the extent of my own profound, political insight.

We also got Gawker's Altarcations writer Phyllis Nefler. and some guy who looks like Dave Eggers brother, who turned out not to be Dave Eggers' brother after I thought he was Dave Eggers' brother. His name is Alec Friedman.

[Alas, because we were drunk, there may be signatures in here we missed. Seriously! If you see your John Hancock—heh: cock—please email me with it. It's for charity. You don't want children growing up to one day actually think that was funny, do you? Right. Neither do I.]

The book's sanctity has been preserved by only having been signed on the night of the 2009 National Book Awards, by attendees of the ceremony. That said, if you win it and want to have anybody else in the Gawker Media offices sign it, sure, fuckit, I'll get them to sign. Hell, we know people who are experts on books that are imaginary that are supposed to be real, and I bet we could get them to sign if that's what you wanted. Or I could eat the book, or I could drop-kick it, or I could detonate it with whatever fireworks you send us, or I could read it, but who's that awful? Not you, potential charity-giver. Anyway. You could do any of those things, or none of them, and just keep it as one of the most awesome literary collectibles ever. You know? You know.

Because one day, you can show this to your children's children, and tell them: I bought this so you could see how happy the people were before it was like this. Now that James Franco is the new Daniel Mendelsohn, and every book published is full of shit, and they all come from blogs, and they're the only things that sell, and they are read on calculators, there was this. There was this night. There were these drunk people signing Frau Palin's book.

And then you can blame it on this guy:

But seriously, it's for charity. Buy the goddamn book. Now. Please. Our auction is here.

[Photographs via Gawker Party Crash photog Mo Pitz.]

Author John Scalzi provided a horrifying glimpse into the not-so-distant future. Science "fiction?" We think not.

Dan Frommer of Business Insider explained that clouds can't crash on you in iHeaven.

New York's Jessica Coen basically called it.

AOL was not about to be condescended to by Brian Stelter of the New York Times. Busted!

You know who else allowed his nation's critical communications system to fail during wartime? The Awl's Alex Balk does.

Webmonkey editor Michael Calore never made to attachment number 23.

Did you witness the media elite tweet something indiscreet? Please email us your favorite tweets - or send us more Twitter usernames.

In an email sent out to their daily email subscribers, two-time Gawker editor Choire Sicha revealed a backdated post that wouldn't appear on the front page of the site to otherwise uninitiated readers.

So this is a special Weekend Edition Email to thank you for your patronage. Why? Well, this week, on July 30, 2009, a person residing in (or visiting!) the glorious town of Austin, Texas clicked through from somewhere (perhaps from one of your Twitter accounts, dear reader!) to view a post (and then depart for Internet places unknown) and, in doing so, became our millionth visitor:

http://www.theawl.com/2009/07/one-million-served

(That's a backdated secret post, so that it didn't appear on our front page.)

This lucky Windows user, wrapping up the end of his or her workday at 5:30 p.m. local time, or perhaps just waking up, and getting ready for the roller derby, or maybe, well, who knows: who is shim? What time does hermself wake up? We may never know....

Now, Sitemeter is notoriously wacky as a traffic counter, as you probably know, so, don't worry, we don't attach too much significance to this number. But it's a big round number! How exciting! It kinda makes me feel like Ray Kroc.

The Awl launched to much excitement a few months ago: an interview with Vanity Fair's site, and posts from MediaBistro, like this one, in which Choire talks about how he doesn't look at his own traffic!

Has the press' lovefest led to strong traffic?

Sicha, for one, has no idea. "You know, I have actually *never looked* at our traffic," he emailed FishbowlNY.com this morning. "I leave that in David Cho's capable hands; he's our business guy, and that stuff is his problem. I am just trying to have a good time, and that itself is our stated goal."

Balk, Sicha, and their numerous contributors - who count plenty of Gawker Media past and present writers as among their numbers - look to be enjoying themselves, as they recently called this company the "Goldman Sachs of the Internet," (which is funny, because I'm still broke) and reportedly had their site crash due to an overwhelming influx of traffic. In the aforementioned email, they also announced a special new contributor who's "much better" than Ed Koch.

Meanwhile, this blog took note of nearly anti-celebrity-beat site The Awl's Michael Jackson-911-call link in a passive swipe, and before that, Nick Denton once took note of their content layout.

The Awl's now at a million hits and Denton's busy minting his own currency or something, and unlike Sicha, doesn't own any pets. Yet. "Congratulations" to all parties involved.

One Million Served [The Awl]

Make magazine's Mark Frauenfelder didn't appreciate Eater founder Ben Leventhal's advice on how to ingratiate yourself to a restaurant.

Alex Balk didn't appreciate being the forgotten co-founder, except insofar as it allowed him to taunt Kurt Andersen.

Cablevision, the company, trolled Jeff Jarvis, the internet pundit. Successfully.

Time magazine's Karen Tumulty was in the White House, as an actual reporter, and immediately launched an investigation into the plants at the press conference. When Time Inc CEO Ann Moore said "trustworthy.... fact-based reporting" would save her company, this must have been what she was talking about.

Air America's Ana Marie Cox, meanwhile, spent her White House time responsibly looking for guy she makes great fun of every week.

Did you witness the media elite tweet something indiscreet? Please email us your favorite tweets - or send us more Twitter usernames.

Cindi Leive, Glamour editor-in-chief, denied she could be one of the book's funhouse mirrored versions of Manhattan media fixtures. It was Leive who playing host at Da Silvano's wine bar to a mix of unnervingly relaxed gossips, writers, and flacks, which meant she invited guests to pet her fur purse — "No, I don't even know what kind of animal it is, but you don't really want to know, do you?"

Froelich, in fishnets, advised that really, "If you can eat it, wear it." She had her own arm-candy: a bouquet of tiny violet roses, compliments of (former?) gossip and one-time Gawker editor, Alex Balk.

Also in the gallery, shot by the unstoppable Nikola Tamindzic: Erica Jong, George Gurley, Sloane Crosley, David Carr, Rachel Sklar, Elizabeth Spiers, Kate Lee, and Neel Shah's hat.

Morgan Spurlock (Super Size Me), Page Six's gossip columnist and Mercury in Retrograde author Paula Froelich

Cindi Leive (editor-in-chief, Glamour), author Erica Jong

Elliot Furman, former Defamer writer Molly Friedman

Glamour's Cindi Leive, Rachel Sklar of Abrams Research

Neel Shah (gossip writer for Page Six, and former Radar), Chris Wilson ("the Neel Shah of the late 90's" he explains), Steve Garbarino (the survivorman of the magazine world, now working with Playboy)

Classing it up, old-school publicist Bobby Zarem

The next generation: omg omg omg

Sloane Crosley (book publicist, author of I Was Told There'd Be Cake), Cindy Eagan (head of teen lit imprint Poppy) Caroline Waxler (writer)

Mediaite Rachel Sklar with Ron Perelman's spokeswoman Christine Taylor

Neel Shah shortly before hatting Sloane Crosley

Alex Balk (The Awl, former Radar executive editor) shows his face with Paula Froelich

A barely debauched George Gurley (New York Observer, Vanity Fair)

La Froelich's fishnets

Paula Froelich, with snappy flack Marvette Brito

Morgan Spurlock

ICM agent Kate Lee with client and Gawker founding editor Elizabeth Spiers

David Carr (star Twitterer and media columnist, New York Times)

Sara Bernstein, of HBO's documentary operation, and Jesse Angelo, New York Post managing editor, who claims to have only ever drunk-bought one domain: yourwifeisonmyblog.com

Sloane Crosley, Neel Shah's hat

Paula Froelich just wants you to go home now

Right! There are other Gawker Media alum who have been blogging away in other places: The former Defamer crew have resuscitated Movieline and ex-Gawker writer Sheila McClear, is keeping ASSME.org well-stocked with contributors writing about living through this shitty media economy.

Ann Curry of the Today Show accused Matt Lauer of being on drugs.

New Yorker writer Susan Orlean had a drink.

Technology Review fauxmosexual-in-chief Jason Pontin kept up the appearance of working.

Gawker alumnus Alex Balk learned something new.

AllThingsD blogger Peter Kafka tried to keep the music industry afloat.

Did you witness the media elite tweet something indiscreet? Please email us your favorite tweets — or send us more Twitter usernames.

Celebrity magazines in trouble! New circulation figures show that in the second half of '08, In Touch and Life & Style both saw circulation fall about 30%, and Star and the National Enquirer were both down more than 10%. Ironically, OK! was only down about 3%, but they're the ones who can't hang onto an editor, because of (real or manufactured) fear they'll fold soon. The only real magazine showing solid gains was The Week, which is essentially a printed blog.



Every day, it seems, there's another story showcasing just how low the entire journalism industry has fallen. Here's today's: The Toronto version of the free daily Metro has laid off all of its paid writers, and now puts the entire paper out with unpaid interns. WHOA. This "How low can journalism go?" will culminate in a story about everyone in journalism being dead, with pee on their lifeless bodies. [Pictured: an intern]



Slate is launching a French version of its site. Didn't think it was possible for Slate to be more condescending? Slate is launching a French version of its site.

Ron Burkle's Source Interlink magazine wholesale company is suing the nation's largest magazine publishers, alleging that they're all conspiring to drive Source Interlink out of business, stemming from an earlier conflict over a proposed seven-cent surcharge on shipping magazines, which caused much consternation within the publishing industry. This all supports my thesis that there is little in the media more boring than magazine wholesalers, but hey, look at Ron Burkle the hot bachelor, ha.




New Yorker editorblogger Ben Greenman—recently reprimanded by us, on behalf of David Denby, for allowing 'snark' to creep into his work, thereby tainting that great magazine's entire legacy—has posted a new humorous work. But this one centers on Bernard Madoff, a man of sufficient public and political significance to render this work solidly 'not snarky.' Is it now fair to say that the New Yorker's entire editorial strategy is being driven by the backlash to David Denby's crappy book?; in other words, that this very blog is now the 'Man Behind the Curtain,' pulling the psychological strings at our nation's most prestigious magazine, thereby setting the de facto intellectual agenda of the nation? Well we can't stop you from saying that, we're not the police.


Alex Balk's plan to save the press: a tax on stupidity.

I got nowhere else to go! I got nowhere else to go.

I was walking down Second Avenue yesterday when I saw a woman retrieving something from the trunk of a cab. She was attractive, mid-twenties, in great shape, and she was pulling out what, on closer inspection, turned out to be a baby stroller. I looked for a baby, and there it was, sitting on the curb in a carrier. This was all taking place in front of a nail salon, and a woman was sitting in the front window while her nails dried. This woman appeared to be in her mid-to-late-thirties and was well put together, but wearing a denim jacket in a failing attempt to somehow give the illusion of youth. She was staring at the baby and the look in her eyes was one of anguish and desperation. You could almost HEAR her thinking, “This is never going to happen for me. What choices did I make in my life that brought me to this place where it’s never going to happen for me?”

It smacked me like a wave, and it was one of those New York feelings that you only let yourself feel every three or four years where you’re just overwhelmed by how everything is too close, there’s too much anguish, it’s all too much in your face. The ragged homeless schizophrenic who mutters “I should call my mom, let her know I’m still alive.” The old man sitting alone in the diner ordering one more cup of coffee so that at least he has another few minutes before he has to return to the empty room where he’s the only one who knows or cares that he exists. The exhausted nurse smoking outside the hospital whose voice cracks on the cellphone as she tells her child that there’s something you can warm up in the oven, be sure to do your homework, I have to work a double shift tonight, I won’t be able to walk with you to school in the morning, before she hangs up the phone and lets the tears just roll. It’s all of it, all around you, and it never stops.

Then the next wave smacked me: The aging fat man, unshaven, shirttail hanging out, hunched demeanor, stopped short on the sidewalk staring at a woman in a nail salon. What’s his story? What sadness is he carrying around with him? Why the fuck won’t he keep walking?"

So I kept walking. I mean, what else are you gonna do?

[Alex Balk]

"hello, i was not quite sure where to send this email.. so i just decided to send it to this onw..but the email is directed at "balk" whoever this is..

i think its just simply disgusting to write this sentence:

"No wonder the Turks tried to genocide these people out of existence. If we....."

im armenian, and i dont really care about kim kardashian and her butt..
but writing this sentence is just stupid and ruthless.. and actually not funny at all..and im sure many people share the same opinion
it seems like you dont know really what happened, otherwise you wouldnt write this..

you dont have to know about it actually...but as soon as you are using it in your article, you should know what you are writing about

this probably is not going to be taken seriously, but it made me feel better

I'm glad. That is a rude thing to write.

Former Gawker-er Alex Balk needs every bit of his energy and concentration to be focused on the delicate task of editing Radar's website. But how can he, when he's on the verge of heat stroke because of a shamefully malfunctioning AC unit? Earlier today he reported he was "entirely covered in sweat." He even wanted to take off his shoes! Later he said the AC in Radar's office might be working "within the hour." Well, we certainly hope so, for god's sake!

Furthermore, the Midtown offices of legal publisher ALM are sweltering! Hardly the conditions in which solid reporting about lawyers can be done. A tipster says there's been no AC for the past two days—throughout the worst of the heat wave—and they might not be fixed tomorrow, either. The company's solution for the restless staff? Ice cream sandwiches. But "the cheap kind!"

And Choire Sicha is reporting that the peons at the Observer are suffering from a broken AC as well! Can't Jared Kushner buy a truck full of ice?

How long must the media suffer? Send us your tales of woe. Together we will overcome!

[Also, don't Google image search "sweaty worker" unless you want to see a lot of porn. Pic of sweating Chinese worker via Great Commission was found with the more fruitful search, "sweating at work."]

“As I listened to my patients during consultations, many of them mentioned Balk by name,” Dr. Hefez said. “He’s penetrated some of their deepest fantasies. I noticed all this passion in people speaking of him, and I thought there is something particular about this man — he’s like a reflection of us in the mirror.”

The bloggers project themselves onto Mr. Balk, too, Dr. Hefez said.

“He’s the incarnation of the postmodern man, obsessed with himself, turned toward pleasure, autonomous and narcissistic,” the psychiatrist said. “And he exhibits his joys and sorrows, all his private life, his sentimental doubts and pleasures. He represents the individualism of the society to the extreme, that it’s the individual who counts, not the society.”

Eight months after leaving Gawker to take over at Radar Online, Mr. Balk can appear to be everywhere, particularly in the Tumblsphere. [UnbearablyBalk]

"Nine-Oh", Season 4

(Also: finale y'all! Someone I did theatre with in college is on the show tonight. Go Zack!)