Did you know the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree is officially not reserved for Christians, language-wise? Did you know, in fact, that it may be referred to in official documents at "The Tree" rather than "The Christmas Jesus Tree," because NBC is in thrall of secular humanist Hitlers and other Jeffrey Dahmer-like characters? Well. Andrea Peyser found one brave young Christian soldier who will not take it any more:

Justin Gould, 8, of New Jersey, was cheeky about the omission.

"Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" the boy cried.

Merry Christmas! That is, until the lawyers get their say.

Justin Gould was promptly nailed to a cross by the ACLU.
[Pic via]

A "hacker" obtained a bunch of emails from climate scientists at the University of East Anglia and posted them to some website, and for some reason Matt Drudge and the right-wing media have decided that these emails are proof of a massive conspiracy to make up global warming, for fun. The emails are mostly scientists complaining about political pressures and people they dislike and things that make their job—and their job is attempting to reconstruct climates of hundreds or millions of years ago based on fucking ice floes and tree rings—harder.

There are precisely two emails that even sound scandalous: one in which a scientist refers to borrowing another scientist's "trick"—which skeptics interpret as falsifying data and which actual legitimate scientists say means "a clever way of doing something"—to "hide the decline," which is a poor way of saying he is attempting to correct for the fact that tree rings don't reflect modern warming trends that are well-documented by actual thermometers.

The other email that is terribly scandalous is even better. As George Monbiot explains:

One of the most damaging emails was sent by the head of the climatic research unit, Phil Jones. He wrote "I can't see either of these papers being in the next [Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change] report. Kevin and I will keep them out somehow - even if we have to redefine what the peer-review literature is!"

One of these papers which was published in the journal Climate Research turned out to be so badly flawed that the scandal resulted in the resignation of the editor-in-chief.

So the scandal is that a researcher thought a paper was flawed and said he would do anything to keep it from being published, not because it said something dangerous that he is trying to keep hidden, but because he thought it was bad science. And then it turned out to be bad science.

Ahem:

Half of the journal's editorial board, including editor-in-chief Hans von Storch, resigned from the journal's editorial board because they felt that publication of the paper in question represented a breakdown in the peer-review process. The publisher had refused to allow von Storch to publish an editorial on the topic, but later the president of the journal's parent company stated that the paper's major findings could not "be concluded convincingly from the evidence provided in the paper. [Climate Research] should have requested appropriate revisions of the manuscript prior to publication."

So. The scandal, again, for those keeping score at home, is that academics are bitching to each other about papers they think are bad, written by people they dislike, that are being published in journals they dislike.

Also the scandal is that someone made Andrea Peyser's child sing a song about global warming!

The Post's resident sex goddess and outrage factory reports from the front lines of the Obama/Soros/Polar Bear Indoctrination Campaign:

My daughter came home from school recently with a spring in her step and a song on her lips. With no foreshadowing — or time to call an exorcist — out came this chilling refrain:

"...You can hear the warning — GLOBAL WARMING... "

By the time her father and I removed our jaws from the floor, we had learned that:

A) All the kids had been coerced into singing this catchy ditty, which we called "The Warming Song," at a concert for parents.

B) Further song lyrics scolded selfish adults (that would be us) for polluting our planet and causing a warming scourge that would, in no short order, kill all the polar bears and threaten the birds and bees.

C) There was no deprogramming session on the menu. And no arguing allowed.

Well, we're sorry you weren't allowed to "argue" with a school assembly, Andrea. That must've been hard for you! Also we're sorry that someone is scolding grown-ups for polluting the planet, but, you know, it really can't be argued that that is anyone else's fault.

1. Andrea Peyser confronts the mom of a 16 year-old shooting suspect about why she is such a bad mom that her kid would shoot somebody. Answer: Because she is selfish and she lets her son hang out with his relatives thugs. Black people! Why can't they raise kids the right way? "There do exist real fathers. Take Federico Grullon. He won't allow his three kids to leave the house."
Black kids should be shackled at all times.

2. Did you know there is a soup kitchen now for orothodox Jews? And other Jews are facing foreclosure? But Jews are the ones with all the money!

So — shhh! — The United Jewish Appeal has started Connect to Care, which already has given more than 8,000 needy Jews financial services, job help and mental-health counseling to get through unfamiliar territory.
Just don't expect anyone to admit it.

3. "If Johnny Depp is the Sexiest Man Alive, I'm swearing off men." That one wasn't totally unexpected.

Andrea today issues her sentencing recommendations in the case of liberal lawyer Lynne Stewart: Let the fat bitch rot. That is an accurate summary!

Let her rot.

Charismatic terror monger Lynne Stewart is no beauty. But she is a great actress.

The lady ex-lawyer who loves terrorists too much lumbered into the Manhattan federal courtroom in 2006, all 200-plus pounds of fire-breathing radical.

What a terrible, fat lady. She should have gotten more time, just to do those prison workouts! Eh?

Her lawyers said — are you ready? — Stewart was too fat for the lockup.

Lawyer Elizabeth Fink said her obese client's breast cancer was sure to return in a place where women are denied the dignity of wearing bras.

"If you send her to prison, she is going to die," Fink intoned.

We should be so lucky.

You can write to Andrea at andrea.peyser@nypost.com.

The story of Medhat Mohamed is one of those scandals that the Post created by its own will power. Mohamed booted a gay couple from his cab for making out in the back seat. He says that he was afraid they were going to cause him to get in an accident. The couple says they were merely hugging, but Mohamed says they were about to have full-on sex. The truth is somewhere in between.

The Post hopped on this "scandal" and, next thing you know, the mayor is saying he's a "disgrace", he lost his job, and he might have his taxi license revoked. Peyser asks:

How did a hardworking immigrant who toiled on the night shift, giving rides to all kinds of people — including some who are abusive or intolerant of him — become Public Enemy No. 1?

Um, maybe because your newspaper made him out to be in the first place!

As for Mohamed's continued claims that he would have kicked out a straight couple for the same offense, we continue to find that hard to believe. Heterosexuals are always to engage in all sorts of PDA and the worst thing that happens is someone chides, "Get a room." In some parts of the city (and the country, and certainly the world) a gay couple even just holding hands can get them kicked out of cab, beat up, or killed—and that is nothing like the drunken maulings that men routinely give women outside of straight bars after last call.

Peyser, however, hates all sex equally, so we believe she would think that any couple clutching in a cab would be equally catastrophic. You can certainly call her a prude, but you can't call her a homophobe.

According to a story in the New York Times today (in which the NYT tries very hard to suppress its glee), the Post's circulation has fallen by 30% in less than three years, to just a hair over half a million; and its financial losses were around $70 million last year, making the paper an expensive habit even by Rupert Murdoch's standards. And the fact that Rupert's adding local reporting to the WSJ makes Post reporters (reasonably) nervous they're falling out of favor.

We must not let this perpetually money-losing right-wing tabloid fall from grace! New York would be such a boring newspaper city without a loud, drunk voice of opposition. A few helpful suggestions:

• Andrea Peyser's sexxxy, but is she sexxxy enough? Millions of people in New York have sex every day without being mentioned in Andrea Peyser's column. Work on that.
• Col Allan is drunk, but is he drunk enough? Secretly rig the water fountains to emit gin, if you haven't done so already.
• Sean Delonas is racist, but is he racist enough? Racist cartoons are all well and good, but try upping Sean's visibility by getting him out there on the street, among the people, beating up minorities, then quick-sketching it on a blog. After he's all done promoting his children's book.

Don't ask, don't look

In this town, gay rights trump religious and aesthetic sensitivities every time...
Next time, pal, don't look. It's safer.

Look on the bright side, gay liberals: The New York Post is finally standing up for the rights of Muslims! The right to discriminate against you, specifically. Baby steps.

And what about this dude's right to fuck horses without being sentenced to three years in jail, Andrea? It was a female horse!
[Pic via]

Andrea Peyser scoffs at ESPN's Steve Phillips claiming a sex addiction just because he sexed up his young assistant. Andrea Peyser thinks sex addict treatment "Sounds like a great way to meet horny chicks." And how!

Addictions are routinely compared to deadly diseases, such as cancer, by people who'd rather drink than put down the glass, the crack pipe, or — hopefully — the condom. This is an outrage that sickens those who are truly diseased.

In the rest of her column she advises Jennifer Anniston, "Next time, try showering with a friend."; she calls the Yankess "oversexed"; she jealously mocks Maureen Dowd for wanting to bone the president; and she curses New Yorkers for being so fat, and unsexy.

There is no shame in seeking help, Andrea.

What kind of zeal for terrorist-appeasement prompted the New York Times to commission a front-page apology to the Taliban?

That's because Rohde wrote about what his captors felt and said, instead of joining the SEALs and killing a bunch of them, which Andrea Peyser has certainly done many times, right? "I'll probably never know what the reporter experienced," Peyser writes. That's true. Maybe she should try it!

Walking through Midtown streets awash with foul-smelling dignitaries, I hoofed it yesterday to the Libyan Mission on the East Side.
It was my civic, moral and aesthetic duty to confront the butcher on the very turf where, I believed, he had parked his camel.

Ha, "foul-smelling dignitaries." I don't even get it! Then Andrea went up and harassed a Libyan security guard, who, after much prodding, turned Khadafy over to her. She and Col Allan are currently taking turns beating the soles of his feet with a nail-studded clothesline deep inside the News Corp. building.

Her next column will be about sex.

Where is sex not lousy? Andrea Peyser will tell you.

I'm headed back to Brooklyn, where the sex is good.

Okay? But sex is lousy at the audition to be an extra for the Sex and the City movie. Everyone there was either a whore from Jersey, or an old whore from Jersey, reports Andrea Peyser, sex journalist. None of these ladies revved Andrea Peyser's motor! [Pics: Getty]

Watch and learn, bitches.

Among Andrea's objections to Michael and his lifestyle:

[He] died intentionally disfigured, traveled the world with his personal anesthesiologist, owed money to everyone from Bel Air to Bahrain, abandoned a pet chimpanzee when the beast reached puberty, and hadn't had a hit record in more than 20 years.

Michael Jackson died with enough drugs in his system to fell a small village — indulging a habit that, like everything else about his twisted, wasted life, was overlooked by toadies, enablers and those who profited from access to this amoral walking skeleton.

"Death has not cleansed him," she concludes. Andrea Peyser will not be out-"Michael Jackson is a sicko"-ed at her own fucking paper. Even she does not find his behavior sexy. Not one bit.

The fact that Andrea Peyser is still able to obtain press passes is one of the most astounding things in all the media. Also astounding: On the direct opposite page of the Post today is Dan Aquilante's blowjob column praising the "remarkably tasteful" MJ memorial. They fight in the parking lot after work tonight.
[NYP]

CELEBS, behave. The era of Plaxico "I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!" Burress is coming to an end in January, when Manhattan gets a new district attorney — hopefully, one in a short, tight, black skirt.

The rest of the column goes on to say: "...he loved having me...control...him." (...) "Leslie...craves...my love." (...) "I...need...a woman. That's offensive."

[NYP]

According to sex goddess and outrage enthusiast Andrea Peyser, of course. How can Andrea make her story stand out from all the boring, tragic, "woman recounts harrowing story of worrying for her daughter's life" testimony coverage in the boring papers? By calling victim Sandra Boss "the dumbest woman alive."

Repeatedly smiling inappropriately and speaking in an annoyingly flat, lock-jawed voice, Boss primly took the witness stand at the kidnapping trial of her ex-husband, who was known as Clark Rockefeller. A guy who never had a driver's license, Social Security number or visible means of support.
[...]
The marriage continued for 12 years. Not 12 weeks. Or 12 minutes — which is the average time you would expect a Harvard Business School grad to be fooled by this character. That is, if she really wanted to know.

Yes, well, Andrea, in order for one to be a successful con man, it helps to be able to convince people of the con for more than twelve minutes. Otherwise you are just a "liar."

So! Who is the real villain here? The man who simply used charm and pathological cunning to trick literally everyone he encountered in his life for thirty years into believing that he was someone rich and important, who then assaulted a social worker in order to throw his crying daughter into a limo and steal her to Baltimore, and whose lawyers are currently attempting the insanity defense? Or the woman who responded, in your characterization, "weirdly," when told her daughter had been recovered safely? That's right. That stupid bitch is basically the worst human being in the world.

Well, Wicked's running in Chicago, and I'm willing to bet they've already seen that and The Lion King (both of which are amazing, and I hate musicals, especially CATS. Blegh.). Also, no indication that the kids are gonna be with them, so you can rule out the bullshit like The Little Mermaid, Mary Poppins, and Shrek. They already lived through coming-of-age tale Avenue Q, and they could go see Jersey Boys in Vegas. They could go see the decidedly femme Billy Elliot or 9-to-5, or the socialist-happy, somewhat anti-American West Side Story and Hair revivals, but really: do the Obamas strike you as musical people? Nah.

So they're gonna see a play. Well, August: Osage County is about a dysfunctional family of sociopathic pill-poppers and alcoholics, and Obama's heard enough about the Bush administration, he doesn't need to deal with them on a date. Also, it's three hours long. He's not really a Waiting For Godot guy, even though the revival has John Goodman in it. Does that make impatient, though? God Of Carnage, with James Gandolfini, is about class struggles. Do not want! So what play could he see that's both fitting and can't be politicized? Well, it ain't the one he's gonna see: August Wilson's Joe Turner's Come and Gone.

Wilson's the pre-eminent African-American playwright, period. The show's about a boarding house in Pittsburgh post-slavery; it takes place in 1911, and you can probably guess some of the radical ideas and commentary on race-relations it had when it premiered in 1984 that still resonate today. This pick more than any other could probably be parsed and analyzed and surely someone will have something stupid to say about it (my bet: Glenn Beck, first), but it's nice to see that our president doesn't give a shit either way. And at the end of the day, he's probably going just to see a good show: it's up for a Best Revival Tony, and is a favorite to win. Who doesn't like a good night out on the town?

Hopefully, he'll also walk through the new wonderful, traffic-castrated Times Square, stand in the middle of it, and say something about the rise of community, and let the word "socialism" slip in there for fun, and New York Post columnist Andrea Peyser's horns would pop out of her head. That'd be neat.

First Couple to Hit Broadway This Weekend [NYT]

Specifically, according to snarling werewolf-columnist Andrea Peyser, if you can believe it! This traumatized woman, Sandra Boss, had a child with the con artist calling himself Clark Rockefeller. Then the guy flipped out and kidnapped the kid. This woman's ordeal makes Andrea sick:

But Sandra Boss shouldn't get off the hook. She's unquestionably guilty of stupidity in the first degree.

Either that, or, even more likely, something even worse. She really didn't want to know.

Why wouldn't she want to know that her husband is a pathological liar who would go on to kidnap her own child? Maybe because, as Andrea deftly puts it in her opening line, "At least he was straight. We think."

Ha, let us snarl at this unfortunate woman! A man being straight is the minimum requirement for Andrea Peyser not to cannibalize him on her fortnightly moonlit hunting trips around Manhattan. The Post photo caption guys do their part by labeling Sandra a "Dingaling doormat," in a photo of her with her young child.

Blaming the victim is always the Post's fallback position, because it's easier, and it fits in with their perma-sneers, and the werewolf blood running through Andrea Peyser's veins has already stripped her of all human empathy, so why not go with it? Just wait till the woman starts crying over the trauma her child has endured. That's when Andrea can really mock her!
[NYP]

NYC closed down Times Square to cars. It's for the people now! Andrea Peyser despises the people.

Yesterday, as New Yorkers dragged themselves back to work, they found cheap beach chairs thrown into the middle of Times Square, replacing buzzing, honking, vehicular traffic with gas-producing tourists, who really ought to lay off the Starbucks venti chocolate mint frappuccinos, anyway.

She just thinks it's dumb, okay? And stupid as well. It attracts foreigners, for one thing:

I spied a group of fit, tanned men smoking up a lung, and immediately determined they were from Europe.

"It's very, very inviting," said Bertjam Van Der Molen, a tourist from Holland.

"We have a four-hour layover in Newark," he said. "Enough time to come over here" — and stink us out.

You close Times Square to traffic for one day and what happens? A motherfucker from Holland comes out and smokes a cigarette right there, in Times Square. Hope you're happy, Hollandaise-swilling surrender monkeys.
There was no hot teen sex to be had, either.
[NYP]

In an awful display of intolerance, bloggers, TV types, and hunt-and-peck letter-writers crucified, tormented and threatened Carrie...
The forces of diversity and inclusivity are lying. There is no room in this country for difference of opinion.

If the New York Post doesn't know diversity and inclusivity then who does? For the record Andrea has no problem with Miss California's topless photos, nor with her long, smooth legs. We support you in full, Andrea.
[NYP. This little pic was right in the middle of Andrea's column, btw.]

Just look at this paragraph:

The latest addition to the well-stocked smut canon is aimed not at adults, but at impressionable teens and pre-adolescents. It's called "Castration Celebration" — a kind of "High School Musical" meets "Saw." Gross.

Dead giveway word. Ted Haggard: "Hot gay sex and crystal meth. Uh, Gross." So anyhow Andrea goes on to condemn this teen novel about teen sex and castrations although she goes out of her way to quote a portion which include the words "testicles," "penis," and "scrotum." But look, Andrea Peyser is not naive about teen sex. Not naive at all. She knows all about it:

Believe me, I'm not so naive as to think kids don't engage in some of the acts listed here: Sex. Gay sex. Drunken sex. Stoned sex. Angry sex. Unprotected sex. Sex, real or imagined, with farm animals. Baaa!

Gross(???)

[NYP]

"SOMALI PIRATE IN PRIVA-TEARS." Yes! That is a once-in-a-lifetime pirate pun there, people! How many Post readers even know what "privateer" means? Well I guess now they can Edward 'Blackbeard' Teach themselves some vocabulary, amirite? Eh?

Let's be serious: they brought Muse in court and decided that he is 18 so they can try him as an adult, and he cried and wept and said "I don't have any money." Clearly, a terrorist. Angry lady Andrea Peyser is now covering his trial, which should make for some awesome examples of human empathy in action. Starting today!

He looked more like an urchin seeking adoption by Madonna than a swashbuckling Somali pirate [Ed. note: He's a black African, see?]...sobbing and sniffling like a little girl...he swatted at his dribbling nose, like a child facing punishment...he cried and cried...
Muse, so recently jolly, looked miserable and confused, though I don't know why. He faces up to life in prison if convicted. If he does, he'll achieve his dream.
He told his captors he always wanted to go to the United States.

Andrea's doing okay so far on the raw hatred of humanity, but just wait until the barely-contained sexual subtext bursts forth. That's when the real fun starts.