Gawker: commenters

You People Are Monsters

Michael Weiss — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 11:36:05 EDT

Daniel Libit of The Politico warns of the escalating horror of blog commenters — they're a full-blown -ocracy now — and because he's no fool he leads with the following nasty threat of violence from those virtual pogromists at Daily Kos. Erick Erickson, editor of conservative blog RedState.com called Cindy Sheehan a "left-wing media whore," and next thing he knew, his his home and work number were posted by commenters at on the popular lefty blog. "Site moderators removed his information, but not before Erickson received a number of ominous phone calls and e-mail messages, including one from a writer who threatened to 'rape my wife and unborn child.'" In fairness, his wife and unborn child were taking indefensible positions on hipster gentrification in Brooklyn. But all is not chaos and bile in cyberspace. Savvy commenters get hired now, too.

Bill Harnsberger, who writes the Cheers & Jeers column for the site, started off as a commenter. Encouraged by other commenters’ responses to his missives, he began occasionally writing diaries for the site, which does not pay contributors or limit who can contribute. He attracted a following so large that when he lost his job as a copy writer at a marketing company last September, readers got together and within one week collected enough money to pay him to write for Kos full time.

Good on him, but he's the exception on which scores of pseudononymous hopes depend. With the proliferation of comments comes the inattention the average reader of blogs can afford to pay to them. Huffington Post has 30 people on staff to weed through racist and conspiratorial lunacy around-the-clock. What happens when more are needed and it becomes a real budgetary issue? Commenters never police each other well (except you guys down below, you're like Athenians), and some bloggers like Marc Ambinder at The Atlantic have done away with feedback altogether because they're tetchy about "censoring" anyone.

One of the more interesting things to happen in the great Future of the Web debate is at Andrew Sullivan's place. He asked his readers a while back whether or not they wanted comments. The majority said n'uh-uh, too distracting. Know hope, Erick Erickson.

[Politico]

The Experts Weigh In On Commenter Culture

Pareene — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 17:40:56 EDT

Statler and Waldorf were the original bloggers. Or no, wait, the original commenters? They were the cranky old Jewish men who sat in the balcony and heckled The Muppet Show. Now, for some reason, there are viral Muppet videos on YouTube, which we really have no problem with. Here's one of them, in which Statler and Waldorf explain The Internet. [Via Videogum]

Why Newspapers Shouldn't Allow Comments

Sheila — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 12:48:42 EDT

Let's begin with some truisms: a newspaper is not a blog—not even its online version. Conversely, a blog is not a newspaper. However, newspapers have been in the toilet lately, partly due to the proliferation of blogs. One easy pseudo-solution some newspapers have settled on is to act more and more like blogs. After all, this 2.0 world is all about "You," the user, which in practice means it's all about a false sense of democracy through publication of comments and user-generated content—just like a common blog. After the jump: why newspapers should stop slumming as blogs and disallow comments.

Comments are thought to be an added value to a newspaper's site—providing another reason to read. You come for the article, and stay for the interesting discussion. The only problem is, there is no interesting discussion. Almost never. Not even from the mythical supersmart New York Times readers.

Let's take some examples from the weekend press.

First, there was New York Times reporter David Carr's book excerpt in the NYT Magazine, a reported memoir of his crack addiction, recklessly bad behavior, and subsequent redemption.

Sample comments, notable only in how uneducated and un-thoughtful they were?

"if he wasn't a reporter for the new york times, would we be reading this?"

"Monetizing your shameful past is disgusting. Haven't you harmed your loved ones enough for one lifetime?"

"Who cares. grow some guts. we all have problems. most of us don't blame drugs or alcohol... you want a medal for doing your job and being a father?"

Opening a deeply personal article up to the peanut gallery does these writers a great disservice—and yes, I include Emily Gould here, whose NYT Mag article was similarly pilloried in the comments section. (Thanks for writing; your check is in the mail, and oh—have fun getting senselessly torn apart in the comments. No, there's nothing we can do about it—it's 2.0!)

Some people argue that comments are the modern-day equivalent of the letter to the editor. (Remember when people used to sit down and put five, maybe ten minutes of thought into what they wanted to tell a media outlet?)

A look at a Daily News story says otherwise: they reported over the weekend on a strip club bust, a tangled story that involved some prostitution and possible money-laundering. Readers' reactions in the comments?

"W-h-o-r-e," read one comment, in its entirety. Brilliant!

Perhaps newspapers, if they insist on allowing comments, should use the "letter to the editor" format for their comments. Would "W-h-o-r-e" be a printable letter to the editor in the print version of the Daily News? Probably not. It's not well-argued or intelligent, however succinct. So why allow it as a comment? (Also, why does a news story need to be opened up for comments in the first place?)

You could argue that newspapers should rigorously vet and moderate their comments, or at least require them to use their full names. I'd argue that this is a silly misuse of their time; I'm not suggesting that newspapers should actively patrol their comments, like this and some other websites do. (We're a blog; comments are in our blood.) I'm suggesting they get rid of them altogether. (This doesn't include the blog sections of various papers, which the NYT and Washington Post are stuffed full of.)

Newspapers have more important things to do than worry about comments—like, say, report the stories that blogs so desperately need in their 24-7 quest for content! After all, blogs are often not equipped to regularly break the news, and we need content to chew on.

As Arthur Sulzberger's relation Benjamin Dolnick lamented in the comments section of Carr's NYT story (noticed by Choire Sicha at Radar): "If you ever want to lose faith in humanity, read any comments section on the internet."

P.S. Also, nobody wants to hear the tired old "free speech" argument as a defense of comments. We've had free speech in this country for well over two hundred years, long before it was ever an option to comment on newspaper websites and blogs.

"Driving a Vespa To Mars"

Richard — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:57:00 EDT

Get in line, the bread's here. But only six of you are going to get any. Why? Because these are hard times and experiments have failed, and theories are grand but practice is hard work. So put out those little mitts of yours and trudge after the jump to see who eats this week.

From Aaron Altman in Race Baiting Media Whore Is a Credible Source To One Dumb Paper:
"Dear Newspapers:

There are still journalistic tenets to uphold, whether you are a free newspaper or not. Why must the new media keep schooling your fucking asses like this? Do you really, really think that your readers don't fucking care that you can't go around flouting basic reporting rules like 1) Checking your sources; 2) Factchecking; 3) Running your shit story by a goddamned editor who still gives a fuck that he or she is working at a fucking newspaper, that last bastion of objectivity in a very subjective world, for fuck's sake?

Newsies, please. I went to school for this shit. I bought textbooks. I was taught by former writers and editors, producers and reporters how to do this shit and do it right. Then I went out into the world and got myself a job, a news job, and did that shit right. Or at the very least put myself through the fucking paces so that whatever ended up on the air - or, in your case, on the front fucking page of amajor daily newspaper - was correct, and at the very least covered from all sides.

'I sold a stupid t-shirt. Someone got beat up and now they're gonna sue me' is NOT FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH. FOR FUCK'S SAKE. BE A NEWSPAPER.

Love,

Your adoring public "

From the recently demoted Private Hangnail in Today's News In a Word Cloud:
"Is it me, or does this Word Cloud make us all look very, very stupid?" —Yes.

From MattGaymon in The New Yorker's Tasteless Cover:
"I'd be pretty psyched if someone drew me as Angela Davis."

From karion in Bright-Eyed Young Literary Woman Leaves New York in Disgust:
"The odd thing is, there are all these fish crammed into a fishbowl and everyone complains about being in a fishbowl and all that, but in reality, no one is paying attention to the fish except the other fish.

Whatever, Sheila, you should be fired. "

From Botswana Meat Commission in Will HuffPo Pay Its Bloggers Some Mythical Day in the Future?:
"She looks exactly how I imagine the Huffington Post would look in human form."

Your Party Pick this week goes to your friend and mine, dear old KarenUhOh who waxed rhapsodic in Julia TV: Confirmed:
"I give up. Time to give credit where due. Deserved or not, hypnotic or idiotic, this woman has nailed the more-with-less equivalent of driving a Vespa to Mars."

Beautiful job all. Enjoy your weekends. Oh, and you should take a listen to that sad hipster Footloose cover. Some of it is actually quite lovely. Also, this:

Update: Belated Commie from Pareene.

Au Revoir, New York Illiterately Mean

Richard — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 14:33:00 EDT

Executions started with the goal that commenters would come to be respected. A part of me hoped that Gawker commenters could rise above the scene of thoughtless vitriol spewed by anonymous office drones and 12-year-olds, to not be mentioned in trend pieces that try to co-opt what it means to be mocked on the internet. Because these days, everyone hates anonymous bile, unless it's funny. I hoped to force the Gawker commenters into the former category. And it seems to be working. Maybe too well.

Everyone is so friendly now. I feel lost at this point. I don't know how I can continue to execute people regularly if everyone continues the lovefest. I suppose it's possible to participate in it, and be a murderous jackanape, without actually becoming hypocritical. But this tiny concentration of liveblog chat rooms has become a juggernaut that subtly controls everything that happens in the comments section.

The experience has left me to grapple with learning how to cull the truly objectionable from a much smaller sample pool. In truth, I'm happy my job is becoming harder, but also glad that those below were still stupid enough for this week to have some bloodshed.

Executed: Mister Lincoln
Crime: Well, duh.

Executed: Hubert Cumberdale
Crime: A lot of stuff that I don't want to slog through, so let's just say this one.

Executed: sidemouse
Crime: Please—no more comments regarding the editorial direction of the site. Thank you.

Whining can be directed to gawkerexecutioner@gmail.com. I'll be here. Not in Paris.

Commenters Take Over Internet, Run Bloggers Out on Rails

Pareene — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 15:50:56 EDT

Internet person Rex Sorgatz put the pieces together—the New York story on the mean Brownstoner commenter, the Times story on commenters running the asylums, and finally last week's Time piece that was kinda-sorta in defense of anonymous nastiness. Commenters are a trend! Everyone is basically terrified of them! And this weekend, former blog entrepreneur Jason Calacanis up and quit the internet. Or, at least, he quit blogging. And started a private email list! Which is basically the definitive proof that the War is Over and the Commenters Won.

Back when Calacanis' Weblogs Inc was competing for traffic and attention with Gawker Media, Jason basically led to the creation of Gawker Comments. Our publisher, Nick Denton, never cared for comments. Too much noise. Too many amateurs. Spam. But Calacanis' Engadget had comments, and they helped that site's traffic. "A blog is not a blog without comments," Jason used to say. Now, though?

Why should we all build our homes and give residence to the trolls under them? Comments on blogs inevitably implode, and we all accept it under the belief that "open is better!" Open is not better. Running a blog is like letting a virtuoso play for 90 minutes are Carnegie Hall, and then seconds after their performance you run to the back Alley and grab the most inebriated homeless person drag them on stage and ask them what they think of the performance they overheard in the Alley. They then take a piss on the stage and say "F-you" to the people who just had a wonderful experience for 90 or 92 minutes. That's openness for you... my how far we've come! We've put the wisdom of the deranged on the same level as the wisdom of the wise.

Hah. An about-face! Look what YOU ANIMALS did to him! Jason Calacanis is gone off the net, like so many others before him, because commenters are mean. And also homeless and drunk. From the wisdom of crowds to, as Jason later says: "For the record, crowds are really frackin' stupid and to put your stock in crowds is about as bright as putting your faith in a dictator." Harsh! But definitely in tune with the current internet zeitgeist.

Because he's not the only one! Emily Gould shut off comments! Most Tumblrs are comment-free!

But the personal blog comment-retreat comes too late, as most professional outlets, like print magazines and newspapers, now allow comments everywhere. And they're nearly all terrible! Even when they're heavily moderated, as they are at the New York Times, the signal-to-noise ratio seems to get worse every day. What the hell is to be done? Some Gawker Media editors semi-regularly express their barely hidden desire to BAN EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU and go back to the glorious olde days of undemocratic blogging-as-broadcasting, not as conversation. We're sure that sentiment exists at every media outlet that currently hosts the unhinged rantings of conspiracists and cranks.

But the genie's out of the bottle. Commenters are here. And the internet does seem, these days, to belong to them. Treat her kindly. We'll just keep posting funny pictures for you to riff on.

"P is for Pageviews and Payscale of Poo"

Richard — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 16:36:00 EDT

Commie time! Usually I'll collect comment-of-the-week picks from the other writers and let you know who selected what, but I think that makes it seem like only they liked that comment. So while there is input from four of us after the jump, I'll just keep anonymous. Because everyone loved everyone this week. And that's the way it should be.

From blogissuchanuglyword in James Kurisunkal, Midwestern Teen Socialite Chronicler, Makes It In New York:
"I've recently started a blog where I write about people from Tennessee, whom I have never met. They send me pictures of themselves trying on clothes at JCPenny's, filling up a gas stations, and attending early Saturday afternoon baby showers. I add little blurbs about what it must be like to live there and who-snubbed-who in the Whole Foods parking lot the day before."

From mathnet in XXL Magazine Threatened by Utter Teh Gheyness of Hipsters:
"You know what would be so ironic? BAGGY PANTS"

From Sasquatch in Wall-E's Big, Fat, Offensive Problem:
"Generally speaking, people who get offended by accurate satire are douches." —Just perfect.

From Multiphasic in Presented Without Comment:
"I just want one of the ladies to turn around and snap at him, 'Stop following this commenter!'"

From ColonelMustard in TMZ Steals From the Poor and Gives to Themselves:

Your Party Pick (send choices to richardl at gawker dot com) goes to RollsRoyceRevenge in Look, We Made You a Gawker Glossary!:
"A is for Alec
B is for Blagg
C is for Cats on a LOL jag
D is for Denton, that hot little flooze
E is for Emily and all her tattoos
F is for Shelia who ought to be Fired
G is for Gawker where I'd like to be hired
H is for Hater which is just such a bore
I is for Internet invented by Gore
J is for she who shall never see show
K is for Karen, last name of Uh-Oh
L is for Lodiwick and his Lovely balloon
M is for kicking his ass to the Moon
N is for N + 1 (they keep us all gessin'!)
O God, we all think, Moe's interview was depressin'
P is for Page views and Payscale of Poo
Q is for Queens-think I see one or two
R is for Richard, who I'd like to know better
S is for Josh in a hideous Sweater
T is for Tionna
U is for UnFun
V is for Views-no, that's already done
W is for Work which we all should be doing
XXX is for Fleshbot and free pics of screwing
Y is for Yawn, and invitation to Ketch
Z is for….

Fucking hell."

Something about that last bit just really reflects Gawker, in a way. So, good work all! Enjoy your weekends, especially to the happy Tarkin couple.

The Art of Drowning

Richard — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 14:00:00 EDT

Every so often, usually on Fridays, I see someone post a comment along the lines of, "This is execution bait," or "Ketch hasn't filled his quota yet," or "I am allowed to behave like a feckless prat in the comments because the subject matter of this post is sensitive." I don't really have a problem with the first two sample quotes, but I think that they lead to the third. In a way, I am thankful. Anyone addled enough to believe that their racist/sexist/stupidest thoughts are welcome simply because the subject matter of a post deals with someone else's racist/sexist/stupidest thoughts is clearly not long for this commenting world. However, I worry that some of the soon-to-be-deceased see the suggestion of "baiting" as their invitation to be annoying. And that is, well, really annoying. To clarify: no one is asking you to be offensive, ever. Anyways, on to the bloodshed!

Executed: KillBuzzington
Crime: I keep forgetting to kill you, so thanks for this racist and unsubstantive reminder!

Executed: Verwoerdon
Crime: If you could show me a poll in which every single black person in America unanimously agrees that they would still vote for Barack Obama were he to axe-murder someone on national television, I will be happy to reinstate you. Wait, no I won't, because look at how you chose to end your salient insight.

Executed: EllisD
Crime: TMZ roolz, right! (EllisD has been dead for a few days, but this is a notably dumb comment. It assumes that a) Open Caption has any kind of newsworthy component; b) John Mayer walking on the street is news; and c) TMZ is good for anything but trend pieces explaining why the internet is the nadir of civilization.)

Have a non-stupid weekend, free of imaginary bait.

Blog Commenters Commented On, Again; Ours Still Better

Sheila — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 13:00:01 EDT

The "what is to be done about out-of-control commenters in the wild world of Web 2.0" article has been written again, this time by Time. We're only mentioning it because the articles notes that while yes, commenters are mean and out of hand, at least ours are witty! (YouTube's commenters can't even graciously accept a cute video of a gerbil.) Gawker comments, Lev Grossman writes, are "often funnier and cleverer than the posts they comment on." Hey!!

"A random example: on June 11, a user called way21337 uploaded a video to YouTube. It's titled "My new gerbil," and it shows, in fact, a black-and-white gerbil snuffling around cutely in somebody's hand. It is 11 seconds long. By press time, it had acquired 102 comments. Let's take a look! They begin with NewTyhuss, who writes, "sweet!" Things start going south with comment No. 4: "id hit it." (Good one, ZRace67!) After a week, we're down to eldergod: "why dont u shove that gerbil up yur ass and quit posting stupid videos." bwalhof writes, "kill yourself. fast." And so on."

"Comments aren't always that idiotic. The comments on Gawker, a Manhattan-based media and gossip blog that I will probably (no, definitely) be made to regret mentioning, can be incredibly mean, but they're also often funnier and cleverer than the posts they comment on. Last August Gawker ran an item about the rapper Foxy Brown, who was accused of hitting a neighbor with her BlackBerry. The commenters spontaneously generated an entire mini-subculture consisting of variations on this single item: "This is like the time Spinderella stabbed me with her Treo." "MC Lite [sic] beat me about the head and upper shoulder with a stack of faxes." By October, the Foxy Brown post had 10,000 comments, at which point Gawker—presumably fearing the arrival of the Rapture—shut it down."

Whatevr. Why dont u shove those comments str8 up yr ass!!

Post Apocalypse [Time]

Oh Jesus, Not Again

Richard — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 10:29:00 EDT

Another great big drunken commenter meet-up is in the works. "Say It To My Face," the 2nd Gawker Commenters Ball, hosted by commenters thesupergoddess, BK_KT, CodePink, Phyllis Neffler, Unfun, sassypants, and saltwatertaffy (all ladies, all fabulous) will be at Cafe Charbon on the Lower East Side, Friday July 25th starting at 7pm. Come, drink, meet nice people, and help me up off the floor.

Stop Talking About the Crazy Person

Pareene — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 09:07:46 EDT

Former Gawker commenter Newtojezebel has been banned for nine months now, which is probably some sort of record, but apparently people continue talking about her, all the time. She was banned for seeming a little unstable, so naturally she decided to contact former Gawker editor Alex Balk, via fax for some reason, to ask him to please email all of you to explain that she is not him. Balk, of course, is too busy writing on issues of great international import at Radar to do this on his own, so we've decided to help. You follow? Just read it!

"A Great Big Steaming Pile of a Somebody"

Richard — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 17:15:00 EDT

Happy Pride weekend y'all! I hope you'll celebrate somehow, in any small way, because the gays love you and you should love us. I, particularly, love the six commenters who will be awarded with Commies—which recognize the best comments of the week—after the jump.

From lionel-mandrake in The Blackberry Continues to Destroy the Workplace:
"I detested my Blackberry so much, it triggered my one and only incidence of sleepwalking. I woke-up in the middle of the night while in the act of pouring an entire pitcher of water on the thing. I'd been dreaming I was killing the witch from The Wizard of Oz. " —Sheila's pick

From narnio in World's Saddest Millionaire Quits Internet:
"this entire thing is ridiculously childish."

From TheHonJudgeSmails in Dov Charney Is a Hero to Immigrants:
"I would like to make him into a gyro for immigrants."

From Products Will Save Me in How the Hell Do You Get a Job in Media in this Town?:
"Be at the right place at the right time, having the right conversation. As it is near impossible to discern which place and time will be right, just be everywhere, always, talking to everyone."

From Lonesome_George in Salon Wants Gay Sons. Do You?:
"I secretly hope my cat is gay. But that's only because I want him to wear a bonnet."

Party Pick goes to the departed AndSheSaid, who fumed in Beloved Author to Buy You a Beer Someday, Young Ones:
"In my twenties I failed to achieve the distinction of becoming the voice of smug, narcissistic and privileged dick-headedness. But then again no one could ever supercede Gessen's level of success as he defines it.

Just to name three off of the top of my head: Emily Dickinson, Vincent Van Gogh and Marcel Proust would have all failed to meet the standards of success that warrant a beer from Mr. Gessen. I feel certain that he will never achieve their levels of failure.

You want to talk about what is wrong with NY literary culture. Here it is. They don't have a fucking clue about the world outside of themselves and so they can't begin to create art that actually has something worthwhile to say. Under all of the posturing they ultimately just reify the most conventional, banal sentiments of the day.

'I'm nobody! Who are you?' Emily Dickinson asked.
Well Gessen is a great big steaming pile of a somebody."

OK, that's it. Nothing more. Enjoy your weekends everyone. Go drink a pink beer or listen to some showtunes or go see a Paula Poundstone show or just hug somebody you like.

Of Death and Catapults

Richard — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 14:19:00 EDT

Do you like the new site design? The black? I think it's lovely. Reminiscent of DEATH. This is step 1 in my plan to turn Gawker into Jack Ketch's Blog of Commenter Executions and Pictures of Medieval Siege Weaponry. It's a new direction for the site, but think of the pageview counts when Gawker is the number 1 result for "Trebuchet" Google searches! None of this is true, really. I actually have no power. Which should be obvious, as most of my victims just return a few days later and continue the schtick they died for in the first place. It's a hard life, but a just one. After the jump, you shall find a few more victims to mourn until they return in 5 hours.

Executed: censoredout
Crime: This isn't obvious by now?

Executed: MICKEYBLUEFRIES
Crime: How about now? Also, D-I-C-T-I-O-N-A-R-I-E-S. You're welcome.

Executed: YourGoldKeith
Crime: Yawning

Executed: IHateNewYork
Crime: OMG A TROLL! KILLLLL IT!!!!

Executed: AndSheSaid
Crime: Well it was obvious, but you did it anyway. That's almost worse.

Executed:Hez
Crime: Bloodthirsty nervous breakdowns are unbecoming of a lady

That was exhausting. I might not have energy enough for the brothels tonight*.

*This is patently untrue.

Somebody's Challenging The Commenters to a Fight!

Sheila — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 13:31:40 EDT

A boxing match, to be specific. I'm in! [Craigslist]

"Spend All Day Masticating Uselessly"

Richard — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 17:10:00 EDT

"What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, the fulfillment of the promise of the earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one that its fresh young beauty will ever fade." —Gertrude Jekyll. Enjoy your Commies for best comments of the week, before the glory fades, after the jump.

From Knucklehead Babylon in MySpace Hotties Prove Themselves Real:
"They should have certificates of authenticity. Like Beanie Babies." —Sheila

From Pope John Peeps II in Candy Candy Candy:
"famous retard Thomas Friedman says:

Gum was a pre-911 candy, when americans could lounge over the disappearing flavour of their confection, and spend all day masticating uselessly. It was a candy of indulgence and softness, which allowed terrorism to strike. In the 90s there were many bubbles. There was the stockmarket bubble, the corporate governance bubble, the terrorism bubble and the gum bubble...[continues on post]" —Hamilton

From fiveinchtaint in Entertainment in New York City:

From Sarcastro in Luck of the Drowned:
"I got a tremendous amount of stanky for my hang-low whilst on holiday in Burma." — I don't really know what this means, but it sounds funny. And gross.

From EleanorRigby in Prepare to Be Robbed, IKEA Customers:
"Particle board and gravlax make people do crazy things." — Heh, gravlax

Party Pick. Two words: CodePink. She wrote ewoqwentwee in Naughty Bits Left Out of Barbara Walters' Audiobiography:
"His tone bawday stood befaw me like Adonis himself. Wonduhwing exactwy what I had gotted myself into, he ansuhhed that question by getting INTO me. That is to say, he entuhhed me, with bweathless abandonment and waging passion. That of a centahh or maybe even, a dwagon. I. Bahbaw Wahwah. Was his."

Terrific week everyone! Nothing actually happened, but all still had plenty to say.

ENJOY YOUR FREEDOM.

The Beginning of Summer, The End of Some of You

Richard — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 14:56:00 EDT

This weekend marks the official beginning of summer. People will be celebrating in various ways. Some of you have been celebrating this summer's eve in a, heh, literal manner, meaning you've been unnecessarily rude or crude or just plain dead wrong—we're trying to raise the level of discourse here—this week, you'll meet your warm, sunny doom after the jump.

Executed: TribalPottery
Crime: No, douche

Executed: Ezekiel Gessen
Crime: We get it, douche

Executed: BaburamsAtari
Crime: Commie douche

Executed: lellogram
Crime: Existing.

Have a lovely summer's eve. Especially the recently departed. Now you can do something besides be douches on the internet.

Bullied Blogger to Comment Mob: "I Win, Bitches!"

ian spiegelman — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 11:38:14 EDT

Chelsea Alvarez-Bell, the blogger who furiously quit her job with Seattle's Stranger yesterday because all the commenters were mean has returned briefly with a triumphant fuck-you to the angry mob. It turns out that her boss "was disappointed that I was quitting, and that he would like to up the ante. One dollar for every comment on ‘Fuck This, I’m Out’ posted before 4 pm… if I was willing to write about how I spent the money. I agreed, and since then have been hitting refresh on the thread, watching the money roll in. I saw a lot of assholes being assholes, and nice people being nice. But what I was really glad to see was people discussing the state of the comments on Slog, which I hoped would happen."

"But I digress from the point of this post, which is this: I’ll be back next week with how I spent the money. Enjoy your weekend!" See the post here to read all the new comments and check out the adorable gymnastics trophy Chelsea has awarded herself.

Bad Luck For Some of You

Sheila — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 17:00:55 EDT

From our official Commenter Executioner, Jack Ketch: See the title? Get it? Because it's Friday the 13th and now you are dead! I was going to start this post with a history of Friday the 13th, why it's considered unlucky, and what a typical English Friday the 13th consisted of in my time. But then I realized I don't know anything about this day, and have been living here in the future for so long that I'm basically a lazy, ignorant, and slovenly American by this point. I can't even be bothered to write my posts in old timey English. I'll probably have to execute myself soon. So, it's Friday the 13th, which is bad if bad things happen to you today. Look both ways before crossing the street, don't stand near out of order elevator shafts, and make sure to wear your hat really low if you go wilding. They have cameras everywhere now. Fucking cameras. Let us jump, and please be careful not to slip, to the fun part.

Executed: Fishman
Crime: WARNING UNFUNNY INSANE SEXISTS: NO ONE LIKES YOU

Executed: Lothario
Crime: Cuntishness

Executed: In Other News...
Crime:

JACK KETCH: Hello, In Other News...

IN OTHER NEWS...: Oh my! Um, hello. I didn't notice you there. I was just writing another excessively long dialogue exchange for Gawker.

JK: I don't think that will be necessary.

ION: Why not?

JK: Because you're dead.

ION: I am? I don't feel dead. I feel...pretty.

JK: and witty? You aren't.

ION: Some people seem to like my really really long and kind of repetitive one note joke dialogue comments.

JK: That's nice. I find them bothersome. Want to write one act plays? Get a blog.

ION: I have one! It's&mdash

JK: I don't care. You're dead.

ION: Wait! Is this like one of those joke executions where I get to come back in two hours?

JK: I should fucking hope not.

Fin
(Thank God)

Please direct all whining to gawkerexecutioner@gmail.com. Or whatever Conbon's email address is.

Mean Commenters Are Running Bloggers Out of Town

Sheila — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 16:15:25 EDT

"Fuck this, I'm out of here," declares Chelsea Alvarez-Bell, blogging for Seattle's Stranger, at the end of what has obviously been a long guest-blogging stint. "I have no desire to contribute here any longer. I am taking my ball and going home. I was warned beforehand that some of the commenters on Slog could be mean. That was an understatement. The word I would use is cruel." Oh noes! The idea of mean commenters (or awe-inducing donators of labor, as a certain novelist likes to call them) taking over blogs and ruining the Internet has been quite the trend lately. Anyone got a problem with that?

It's not just her. Our very own publisher once remarked, "We were scared of the commenters for a while, yeah?"

Alvarez-Bell goes on to say:

No matter what I post here, it will be ripped to shreds, whether by the grammar police (I dare you to find me something more boring than someone correcting another person's grammar), the pearl-clutching grannies who take umbrage with my use of profanity, or those with a general distaste for what and how I write. That's not what bothers me (I just find it intensely dull). What bothers me is that I woke up these last few mornings perfectly happy... until I remembered that I had to write something for Slog and the dread set in.

Sounds like vacation-time to me! Unfortunately, full-time bloggers need a vacation at least every three months, and after being gone all of a week, you'll have missed so much CONTENT (and so many microfeuds, Choire Sicha calls them on Radar) that you may as well be dead.

Then she calls out a couple of commenters individually: "And fuck you for putting me in a position where I had to tell my mother, who was so excited that I would be doing this, that she was not, under any circumstances, to read the comments because I did not want her to know that anyone was treating daughter that way." Heh.

Their response?

Related: Should novelists respond to their critics? Harper's dissects.

However! As evidenced by last Wednesday's real-life commenter festival, blog commenters are people, too! They are, almost without fail, surprisingly sweet in person. Maybe it's because our commenters, besides being smarter than the average ones (although still disturbingly critical of other's physical appearance), live in constant fear of execution. Like in Stalin's Russia.

Commenter Meet Up

Richard — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 17:39:00 EDT

Don't forget! Tonight, starting at 7. The Scratcher bar, at 5th and Bowery.

Sorry I Was Away... Bad Mood

ian spiegelman — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 16:34:34 EDT

Hey there. Mind if I overshare for sec? Okay, so this morning I thought I'd slip out for a little siesta because it's 700 degrees in New York, but as soon as I reached my siesta spot, I fell into a deep, black pit of brooding and could hardly drag myself back. No, I was not drinking. Here's the problem. After all this time and so many executions some commenters still don't fucking get it. I know, I know, I'm supposed to ignore the stupids and the mean-freaks but the fact is it's just me for two days straight, only 12 to 15 items per day and every fucked-up, wrongheaded comment feels tremendously amplified. So for the very few of you who still don't understand that we have rules here, I am going to ask you to at least observe the following.

Before you accuse me of getting something wrong, please make sure that I got it wrong.
Before you accuse me of "stealing" some item, please notice that there's a link to the source right at the end of the fucking post.
If you're a former Gawker editor who thinks it's a hot idea to come here on the weekend and tell me how to flip burgers, ask yourself, "Am I Elizabeth or Choire?" If the answer is no—beat it, prick.
Before you comment that some wrong-ass previous commenter "makes a good point" please make sure that he/she actually did.
In general, notice that everyone around you is having fun and saying fun things. If you can't manage to do something as decent as have fun and say fun things, no one wants you here. Thank you.

Sorry to get ranty. But what's the point of staying home working on a glorious beach day when little freaks are going to come around and spread negative all over the place? I dunno. I guess I'll post some more stuff. Maybe. I can't say I really feel like it.

"Another Shoddily Erected Structure Comes Crashing Down"

Richard — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 16:28:00 EDT

"Live this day as if it will be your last. Remember that you will only find ''tomorrow' on the calendars of fools. Forget yesterday's defeats and ignore the problems of tomorrow. This is it. Doomsday. All you have. Make it the best day of your year. The saddest words you can ever utter are, 'If I had my life to live over again.' Take the baton, now. Run with it! This is your day! Beginning today, treat everyone you meet, friend or foe, loved one or stranger, as if they were going to be dead at midnight. Extend to each person, no matter how trivial the contact, all the care and kindness and understanding and love that you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again." — Og Mandino. But, eh, fuck it. Your rewards are after the jump.

From skeletonhead in Hit and Run Apathy Video Proves People Are Bad:
"I was in a late night diner once and a girl in the booth behind me started choking. Her friends did nothing, despite her using the correct international sign for choking. As I was sliding out of my booth to go help, a man dressed as Vegas Elvis came out of nowhere, gave her the hemlich, twirled around pointed at me and said "Eye lak yer haar." Then he disappeared into the night. I wish all problems could be solved that way. He saved the girl AND made me feel good about my hair." — Hamilton

From BeRightBack in It's Eerie How Similar SATC Is To Our Lives:
"Who's the fourth one? Did she accrete like space debris into their orbit?" — Sheila

From JudgeFudge in Find Stuff in the Park and Eat It:
Well, this is much more constructive than the Sarah Lawrence alum's 'Drop Acid, Quote Bukowski and Go-bi For An Afternoon in McCaren Park'" — Pareene

From TedSez in North of Boston:
"Whose house this is I sure don't know.
But still I'll stop to do some blow;
And then I'll drink a six of beer
And pee inside and on the snow.
I think this guy must be some queer
To live without an Arby's near
But it's a good place to get baked
Like every evening of the year.
I'll pee and give my balls a shake
The cops will think it's some mistake.
Let someone else come down and sweep
That box I spilled of Frosted Flakes
'Cause when I'm high my thoughts get deep.
I've got a date with weed to keep;
I bet out here it's pretty cheap,
Who took the keychain from my Jeep?" — Robert Frost

From NinaHagen in Apartment Living:
"Once a car alarm went off on us in the EV & someone threw a sink out the window. It did not help (the guy who pried open the hood & snapped the wires did that) but it was gratifying." — And for all of her other apartment nightmare stories. Seriously, did you live in 'Children of Men,' Nina??

Party Pick this week goes to the always-reliable Clarence Rosario in We Rescued A Girl From Paul Janka's Clutches Last Night:
"And yet another shoddily-erected structure comes crashing down on the UES."

And that's it! Enjoy the lovely, hot weekend everyone! Especially in your teeny tiny cars!

The Guns Fell Silent. Mostly.

Richard — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 15:28:00 EDT

Hello commenters. Our Jack Ketch is away on a vacation of sorts this week, so he was not able to supply us with a list of the damned. I guess we'll just have to improvise. People were on mostly good behavior this week, save for a few rapscallions who made uncalled for attacks on our sister site Jezebel. They've had their knuckles rapped and have atoned, so we'll let them live to see another day. But we know how you love a public execution, so we've scraped together a couple of sorry souls who will perish for your amusement, after the jump.

Executed: steemy_mcdreemy for failing to see the beauty in peculiar things.

Executed: TheTypeset for criticizing in a needlessly personal way.

Calling All Commenters

Richard — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 13:42:00 EDT

Don't forget to RSVP to commenter thesupergoddess (thesupergoddess at gmail dot com) if you're planning on attending next week's Commenter Meet-Up. That way the organizers can get a sense of how many people are planning on coming, and might change the venue if it looks to be a lot. Oh, and look! There are now t-shirts available! Insanity.

Commenters Delight

Richard — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 13:13:00 EDT

Hey Gawker commenters! Would you like to push your chairs away from your desks and head out into the New York air to actually meet, face-to-face, some of your commenter brethren? You do, right?? Well it's a good thing then that commenters Phyllis Nefler and the supergoddess are organizing a Commenters Ball! Or, at least, a group meet-up at a bar. They'll be holding court at the Scratcher, a watering hole located at 209 E. 5th st, on Wednesday June 11. Starts at 7pm and goes until the bartender kicks our sorry drunken asses out. Hope to see you there!

"A Wendy's, Over and Over Again"

Richard — Fri, 30 May 2008 16:31:00 EDT

As I spend this last day of being twenty-four staring down, with bleary eyes, the prospect of turning a quarter century old at midnight tonight, I'm finding solace in a few comforting things. Large, earthenware pots full of homemade wines, whole cigarette packs lit ablaze and smoked like pan flutes, and you, dear commenters, who make me chuckle. Yes, it may be an aged and weary chuckle that ominously shakes my frail, weathered body, but it's chuckling nonetheless. And for that I am grateful. I am especially grateful to six of you, who will be awarded with that most prestigious award, a Commie, after the jump. I remember when I won my first, lo those many months ago. Ah, to be young again.

From Bell County in We Assure You the Whites Have No Secrets:
"Some colleagues and I had to do an enormous amount of uncompensated brickwork for Rakim Allah's second house in order to convince him that's what it meant when he heard we were freemasons. But that's our rosy cross to bear!" [Hamilton's pick]

From Moff in Radar Dropping Editors:
"It's like this Wendy's in Fargo when I was growing up: It closed and then another restaurant moved in. And then a year later, that restaurant went out of business, and another moved in. And that happened over and over again, and finally it became a Wendy's again. I think it still is.

It's like that, except if the Wendy's had just kept reopening as a Wendy's, over and over again." [Pareene's pick]

From lawyergay in OK Fine: Gossip Girl Boys May Actually Like Girls:
"OMG coming out stories? Immediate, puzzled hugs from my old-school liberal parents, followed by a furious activist phase (PFLAG, rage at Pat Buchanan, etc.) that somehow became not really caring that none of the mainstream Democratic candidates for president have ever openly supported gay marriage. A few months ago, I noticed copies of both Cat Fancy and Dog Fancy lying around their house. It seemed like some kind of turning point, but I'm not sure into what."

From Pope John Peeps II in Love Still Hurts Even When Not Blogged:
"Que serblah serblah."

From BeRightBack in Love Still Hurts Even When Not Blogged:
"This is like when this kid in my class who I always liked but who was too popular for me to ever approach directly disappeared for a weekend and everyone thought he was dead, even holding a little memorial assembly in the gym with crying and sombre crepe paper and sad cheerleaders, and then the following week I looked up from my desk just as he sauntered into homeroom to be greeted by the dumbfounded stares of Mr. McDonaldson and my classmates and me, a sly grin on his face and only the faintest smell of gravedirt emanating from his otherwise immaculate cuticles. "Your fly is open," he said to Mr. McDonaldson and sure enough, it was true. We tittered uneasily and Mr. McDonaldson zipped up, and then turned in his resignation the next day." Which was a response to your Party Pick...

From Conbon:
"This is just like when I had a girlfriend at the end of 5th grade but then summer came and I was 11 so I didn't have a car or anything, so I couldn't just drive to her house or take her on dates; and anyways we both went to camp so no phones. I didn't see her until the beginning of 6th grade and was then told by one of her friends that we had broken up. Blogs are the new 6th grade friends of your ex-girlfriend."

Congratulations everyone! Wish me luck as I totter off into my dotage.

Why The Times Stopped Taking Your Comments On Emily Gould

Ryan Tate — Tue, 27 May 2008 06:17:19 EDT

When the Times shut down comments on Emily Gould's still-physically-unpublished magazine cover story Friday, we — OK, I — speculated the newspaper "might be having second thoughts" about the value of generating online buzz, "barring some kind of technical concern." Well, there doesn't appear to have been any technical concern, but, based on information from one Times source, it sounds more likely comments were closed to shift staff to newer stories.

Same story with the Hillary Clinton editorial, where we also noticed comments had closed.

At the Times, you see, a human screens every comment, filtering obscenity and, when need be, emailing potential corrections to editors. Since there are only so many moderators, comments on any given story are eventually closed. In the case of Gould's article and the Clinton editorial, comments were closed less than 24 hours after the story went online. Fast! In other cases, it might take a couple of days to shut down comments.

Our source knew of no cases of comments being turned off based on the content of the comments.

It still seems a bit absurd that the Times would take pride in stoking an online discussion when it doesn't have the staff to manage that discussion. It is also self-defeating of the newspaper to rob paying print subscribers of the ability to comment on a story just because it was released early online to freeloaders. But it's hard to get too outraged at a decision to cap comments at around 700. Any comments beyond that number are really only going to be read by New York magazine writers trolling for story ideas.

Anonymous Blog Commenter Worthy Of Cover Story

Ryan Tate — Tue, 27 May 2008 02:03:59 EDT

So remember how, four days ago, everyone got upset because the Times magazine cover story was about some blogger, and there were more important things happening in the world? Well, now New York magazine has decided to take things a step further and publish a cover story about some blog commenter, because it's damned if it's going to be outflanked by the Times on cultural marginalia. And the magazine didn't trot out one of these fancy, gone-pro Manhattan media commenters, either: We're talking an anonymous, insult-spewing, death-wishing commenter on a blog about Brooklyn. Naturally, I read it to the end and loved every drop. The commenter in question is called The What and likes to post anti-gentrification messages on a site called Brownstoner. An excerpt!

He is prone to writing sentences like, “Look at M1, M2 and M3 FED money supply. They have gone parabolic for the last 6 years,” as well as sentences like, “Y’all are fucking finished and the asshole Brokers who pumped this shit up will get ass-raped!” He went through a period in March 2008 during which he promised to “reframe from using profanity.” (Short-lived.) He’s posted comments such as “First order of Business: Citigroup is planing to sell 400 Billion dollars of their assets. I find this very scary. I think they need to raise their capital base.... The upcoming Depression will prove we overstepped out boundaries. And out children will pay for our folly.”

And he’s posted comments such as, “Real Estate is fucking over!!!!! Real Estate is fucking over!!!!! Real Estate is fucking over!!!!! Real Estate is fucking over!!!!!” His posting style is so schizophrenic that one might suspect he is either (a) several very different people posting under the same name or (b) schizophrenic. He sometimes sounds like he’s locked in a basement somewhere, surrounded by newspaper clippings on all four walls.

He touches down in comment threads like a rhetorical Tasmanian devil, huffing and puffing in such a hysterical manner as to become, well, kind of hysterical—as when he wrote this (and I’ve made every effort to retain the integrity of the punctuation), in response to an item about Clinton Hill titled “Price Cuts at 936 Fulton Street”:

WHAT?!!!!! Already?!!!! NO!!!!!!! Everyone wants to live on Fulton St. This can’t be happening…… Please help me.… please.….

****Sobs into sleep*********

Chuckie getting ass-raped.

(Chuckie, for the record, appears to be The What’s generic name for the average white Brooklynite. Either that, or it’s a reference to Chuck Schumer. Or possibly Chuck E. Cheese, though it’s not clear why anyone would want to ass-rape Chuck E. Cheese.)

The writer of the article tries, and fails, to figure out who The What is, and uses him a springboard from which to raise issues of anonymity, class anxiety, sublimated anger, fame in the modern era, etc. etc., much as Emily Gould did in her piece in the Times magazine on being a blogger. Which is all well and good, but all that hand-waving is just an excuse to reprint bitchy comments from the What and other Brooklynites, not that anyone should have a problem with that.

The only truly significant issue raised by the story is who will be first to write a big article about blog lurkers. Who are they, and WHY DON'T THEY SAY ANYTHING?

[New York]

Times Gives Hill the Emily Gould Treatment

ian spiegelman — Sun, 25 May 2008 13:47:23 EDT

So the commenters over at The New York Times' editorial about Sen. Hillary Clinton's assassination gaffe are all, "You suck, Hillary!" And after 686 such comments, the Gray Lady has pulled the plug. You can no longer express your opinion of the Senator there, just like you can no longer jump on the goonish hate pile that Emily Gould was treated to at that venerable news site. So congratulations, "Diplomatic," your frenzied "NOT ready on DAY ONE!!" will forever be the final word. Some other choice words after the jump.

For instance:

She is a disgrace to America.— Posted by ecain
Hillary = LIAR + SORE LOSER — Posted by Fortysomething chick
Awww, how awful. I hope Senator Obama doesn’t cry.— Posted by Harrison
The NYT is a vulture. You should all resign for doing the worst job ever covering an election. — Posted by Kurt
The editorial board of the New York Times has lost its mind. If what she said was so horrible why was there no response when she said it on March 6?This is another example - and a perfect example - of how the Obama campaign twists a statement, gets falsely outraged, and then the obedient press piles on. This campaign has been a disgrace - and the New York Times has been a disgrace in covering it. — Posted by Bob Boardman

Why Do You People Force Me To Hurt You?

Sheila — Thu, 22 May 2008 14:22:54 EDT

Hey, hey, hey! It's time for some people to calm the fuck down... Abbe Diaz. I don't care who you are or what you've published—this kind of ad hominem, personal commenting-attack won't be tolerated here, because it's unintelligent and immature. And also, because I said so. The monkeys may be running the zoo here—but luckily, I'm one of them. That's all.

"Blogga, Please"

Richard — Fri, 16 May 2008 16:30:00 EDT

Well, we've made it through another one, eh? The work week is over. (Sucks to be you, Spiegelman!) What will you do this weekend? Will you indulge in spirits and women of questionable morals? Will you be a woman of questionable morals? Will you simply stay at the computer, furtively toggling between Gawker and that "Brazen Asians" site you like so much? Well, I can guarantee that six of you commenters will be enjoying the most glorious, soaringly happy weekend of your lives. Because six of y'all are about to be COMMIE'D. But who will it be? Find out after that thing that Kriss Kross will make ya do.

From moff in How To Succeed as a Writer: Be a Luddite:
"On the one hand, personal experience suggests to me that this is totally true.

On the other hand, I've only heard of one of these people."

From Conbon in PETA Condemns NYT Photos On Pure Reflex:
"I thought you had to get As to work for the NYT." [Worst. Comment. Ever.]

From BalkNChain in Barack Obama Has Visited ALLLL the States:
"He still has to name the Child-like Empress to stop the Nothing."

From RMwangaguhunga in Our Plan for The Real World: Brooklyn:
"blogga, please. I haven't watched that show since they held an intervention for the drunk, Hawaiian lesbian Ruthie. I hope the entire cast gets cat scratch fever from a bodega cat." [Mostly just for "blogga, please."]

From flipper-baby in Foxy Brown Pleads Guilty to Cell Phone Menacing:
"Not again...

Though this is reminiscent of the time Afrika Bambaata plead nolo contendere to threatening me with his GPS device."

Your Party Pick, once again, went to a lengthy bit of prose. it seems you like to reward hard work, and I can certainly get behind that. So step on up, VirusWithShoes, and take credit for your lovely work in Book of Celebrity Dicks Coming Soon, Probably in Hardcover:
"It is a widely known fact that the size of Scottish penises (or "Jock-cocks", "thistle-wranglers", "sheep-stabbers", "anti-English-hard-ons") are of such an enormous size, it made the wearing of pants (or "trousers") difficult for most of the population until the mid 1700's, and hence made the invention and subsequent wearing of the kilt a necessity. Many years of roaming the hillsides looking for some English to trap and eat, coupled with the free-flowing aspects of basic kiltery led to a clause being inserted into the Act of Union in 1707 banning the wearing of the kilt unless in a designated area whilst playing the bagpipes and gouging gullible tourists about fake monsters in slightly creepy lakes. Following the assimilation into the United Kingdom, kilt-wearing nearly died out, and was replaced by the Scottish male almost exclusively wearing shortie-shorts, around which he hung his drying haggis and skulls "he had innocently found" of the English. This was seen as a blatant attempt in goading the English, coupled with the fact that Robert Burns had just spread a rumour about every Englishman only having half a testicle due to the overproduction of a nascent imperial arrogance on their part..." [There's more! Click through on the link to read the rest of the opus.]

Lovely work as always to both the winners and the unrecognized. You all bring wine to my table, flame to my cigarette, and, when I inevitably need it, relief to my hangover. Have great weekends!

Butchering The Butch-Haters

Richard — Fri, 16 May 2008 13:41:00 EDT

Last night, as I settled into my favorite chair, the one upholster'd with the skin of ill-temper'd puppies, I was content. Her Grace Sheila had taken care of some unpleasantness earlier, and I thought my work was done for the week. I was content to merely sharpen my axe and watch the uneven yet amusing season finale of The Office. But I was interrupted by the incessant vibrations of my Blackberry. (Lovely technologickal advances in 2008.) All these elecotronick letters pointed me to the same post. It seems that some of you just don't get it. Here at Gawker, we don't anonymously slander the physical appearance of others. If you continue to feel it necessary to mock those you find unattractive, you will no longer be welcome here. However, mocking the stupid things that people do is wholly encouraged. For instance, feel free to dance on the graves of the sodding twits listed after the jump.

Executed: Buzz Killington
Crime: It's fine to have a contrary opinion, but not this one.

Executed: Kenneth212
Crime: No, it's not.

Executed: The-Cubicle-Dweller
Crime: Geez, I would certainly not like to read any more of your unfunny tripe.

Executed: Priam
Crime: Yes it is.

Executed: Miss_Msry
Crime: Seriously though, it isn't.

As always, condemnations, bribes, pleas for mercy, and sexist homophobic screeds may be sent to GawkerExecutioner@gmail.com. Don't email Denton, Pareene, Richard, Sheila, Hamilton, Nick Douglas, Ryan or anyone else from the Court of Gawker. I'm not them, and they don't care.

"You Bite the Very Short Asian Girl On the Neck..."

Richard — Fri, 09 May 2008 17:08:00 EDT

The big news of the week (for me, what are "primaries"?) was Gossip Girl's epic stunner of an episode in which, in the thumping crazy final seconds, we discovered that newly pious Serena van der Woodsen was a murderer. Murder! Big news! The news today is, as it is every Friday, that, like a pack of crazed blond millionaires, you guys continue to slay us. (This is the worst introduction ever, I realize. But I'm all nerves about this "Summit" tonight and can't think straight.) So after the jump, find six of the week's best tippy-typing.

From fiveinchtaint in Animal Sacrifices Still Popular Among Young Urbanites:
"I knew Rudolph was a fucking robot. Magic my ass." - Blitzen [Sheila's pick]

From lawyergay in Starbucks Doesn't Have Any God Damn Lemons:
"To: Starbucks Executive VP for Global Strategy
From: lawyergay
Re: How to Cut Lemons

1. Grasp a knife with a "handshake" grip in your dominant hand, holding the lemon in the other.

2. Placing the blade perpendicular to the fruit, make repeated downward sawing motions until the lemon has been divided into two roughly equal halves.

3. Insert knife in eye." [Hamilton's pick]

From Nunaurbiz in Woman Wants Six Figures For Alleged Lohan Coat Theft:
"FYI, in case anyone cares: The dead minks have voted and they want their old owner back."

From CodePink in Symptoms of Hipsterdom Revealed:
"You talk loudly while your roommate is watching American Idol saying "This is like the apocalypse, the end of music itself" and then your roommate kindly reminds you of the "no talking during tv" rule. You apologize, half-heartedly and get another glass of leftover plum wine. You look out your window and see an old chair in the alley. It is the shittiest looking chair you have ever seen. You want it. You go to the alley. You pick up the chair. Suddenly, you notice there is a cat who has been hiding under the chair You pick up the cat. It bites you. The cat is rabid. Now so are you. You throw the cat in the garbage. Suddenly, you develop an aversion to water. You put a DON'T TAKE SHOWERS, YO sign on the bathroom door. You start drooling and snarling whilst waiting for the L train. This gets you a date with an Asian chick. On the date, you bite the very short Asian girl on the neck. She says "Kinky" but the next day she is throwing away her Brita as she is also rabid. You both start a band called RABID. Your ex-roommate hears about your gig at Galapagos. She goes to the gig, shoots you both with a rifle because you "needed to be put down", not because of the rabies, but because you're so FUCKING ANNOYING."

From DonPardoCalrissian in "I Love the Ghetto": Bushwick Hipsters Explain Their Outfits:
" 'Are you taking my picture? I'm so glassily hip I don't even know what that means. My uncle's a unicorn and I came out of my mother's wee-wee.' "

Your Party Pick this week goes to the always awe-inspiring InOtherNews..., who wove a scintillating tale of liquor and licentiousness in Saturday Night:
"Photography. A magical medium. For instance, did you really know what Aunt Thelma was doing in Boca Raton one glorious Friday night in 1964? The "accidental poke" from a local gasoline station attendant named Billy? It was more than that. The reverse peristalsis into the waste receptacle that forever sealed "Vomiting Vivian"'s nomenclatural fate? The top-shelf liquor collection, prized by your uncle Ted, that one night disappeared into a burlap sack, hurried out of the china cabinet and into a room in the Stark Feather Inn on Viola Drive? The carpet, said the housekeeping staff, was smartly saved from a terrible fate. The sheets, the pillows, the headboard, all imbued with the scent of sex, sweat and geriatry. The ceiling fan which blew coolly onto several naked buttocks thrusting up and down into the tepid, smoke-tinged air. Vivian, Billy and Thelma were the loudest that night, said the couple in Room 215, the lady in Room 219, the teenaged acoustic band in Room 117, and the visitors from Abu Dhabi in Room 317. Security guards visited several times that evening: the clatter of billy clubs and tin shields and ruffled shirts would cause the moans to pause; the banging to cease; the groans to subside. To the door, the guards would press their ears, then gently walk away. And the fucking, pure fucking, would resume. It was clear Vivian was happy: this was her birthday gift. But was she jealous of Thelma? Perhaps, because it was all over her that Billy came. An illustrious ejaculation, surpassed only by St. Helens' two decades later, and Washington State was so far away. So Vivian gave Billy no choice: he would have to come again.

Perhaps it was the lime slice she kept under her tongue. "To make it interesting," she said, "and because I want it to hurt a little." Billy delivered once more, and Vivian, usually of the fortitude of the schist that formed Manhattan Island, collapsed. The contents of her aged stomach churned, stirred perhaps by the salty burst: beef stroganoff, a quaff of Pabst, cherry Life Savers bought from the lobby gift shop. Thelma, realizing the great misfortune the carpet was about to suffer, thought to quickly position a trashbin at the foot of the bed. Vivian, doubled over, took a little while. In the meantime, Thelma, a little disgusted, a little emboldened, went to explore the selection of tonic. Billy, done, zipped up, buttoned a few, and noticed the man with the camera.

He toasted.

Thelma saw a friend outside the window.

Vivian hurled.

And the man with the camera, the unwitting artiste, captured a fleeting moment in history, preserving it for no-one in particular but you, my precious child. "

Good work, everyone. Have lovely, hipster-free weekends.

An Ugly Business

Richard — Fri, 09 May 2008 14:42:00 EDT

Here at the gay liberal art school grad white people headquarters, we are, to a man, (or woman if you care to whine about such things) flawlessly beautiful gay liberal art school grad white people. Most of the time, this is wonderful. What could be better than a salon of erudite and sexy conversants, even if some of them are zombified and utterly annoying exhibitionists? It is a shame, therefore, that some of you have to be witless fops and find your insults of the appearance of others to be contributions most valid.

While Gawker will probably never be the Socratic dialogue that my Lord Denton (and no one else) wishes for, we would all do better to not stoop to the level of a What Would Tyler Durden Do discussion. This week, as an example, all executions are from the same post and for the same reasons.

Say farewell to 4Cats, CopyOfBlueBoy, JorgeLuisGorgeous, Dusty In The Wind, and MattGaymon.

Any of the newly deceased may be granted resurrection if they submit a self portrait, which shall be posted on Gawker for ridicule, by me, of your various and no doubt many imperfections. Or, more likely, you can just email Ian Spiegelman, as he seems to be in the business of undoing all my work in an effort to keep his weekend sewing circle intact.

And one more bonus execution: "Jump the shark." It's dead now. Say it at your own peril. (Including such unfunny meta-commentary as "Jump the shark has jumped the shark.")

As always, condemnations, bribes, pleas for mercy, and ridicule-ready pictures of yourselves may be sent to GawkerExecutioner@gmail.com. Don't email Denton, Pareene, Richard, Sheila, Hamilton, Nick Douglas, Ryan or anyone else from the Court of Gawker. I'm not them, and they don't care.

"Eating a Six-Foot Cake in Slow Motion"

Richard — Fri, 02 May 2008 17:15:47 EDT

While most of you lot are still gawking at the corpses of your friends, it is important to keep on with the business of living. As President Morgan Freeman says in Deep Impact: "I'm the president." But, also some things about marching on in the face of terrible tragedy. So I urge you to gather here (or, rather, after the jump) and revel in the successes of your peers; six noble souls who looked at an empty comment box and dared to ask "Why not?"

From millwhistle in Good News: Even More Subway Ads:
"No one is going to want their brand associated with the G train. Except maybe a molasses company" [Hamilton's pick. He says: "In honor of sheila and all greenpoint peoples."]

From Chaim_Gnadelstein in Stalk Scarlett Johansson Via Music Video:
"What does she have to be so miserable about? Being really, really attractive and clearing five million a year as a very mediocre actor?

If I was in her position, this video would basically be four minutes of me in a posh dining room, devouring a six-foot cake in slow motion. Barefoot, in my fucking bathrobe. " [Ryan's pick]

From tracyflick in Enjoying the Fried Calamari Not Actually a Sexual Euphemism, Sadly:
"The Nerve personal are full of the most pompous, pseudo-intellectual douchebags. At least on Lavalife you know what you're getting - a bunch of ex-cons who wear Joey Buttafucco pants and live in Queens." [Sheila's pick]

From Helman in Ugh:
"Am so relieved I'm not the only person to have watched that miserable show." [Solidarity!]

From Bell County in Floridians Confused by Fairy's Message:
"These people are just upset because their religions aren't robust enough to contain the statement. For example, this sign is not problematic if you worship fairies." [And for lots of other brilliant work this week, foreal.]

Your Party Pick this week goes, bittersweetly, to VirusWithShoes who wrote lovely words in LIterary Love Connection:
"SIR GEOFFREY

Why, Adams, you old dog, you - come closer, dear boy. I simply must declare my undying adoration of that filly Seltzer's marvellous mountains!

ADAMS

I hear the talents she so obviously brings are done a disservice by her penchant for lily-gilding, Sir.

SIR GEOFFREY

Indeed, my boy. But it is said amongst no finer crowd than this, that baby may have back - if not front, Adams. Thoughts?

ADAMS

I have heard the same whispers in the self-same corridors, Sir. She undoubtedly has a fine rack, although - if I may speak somewhat out of turn - it appears that she will not be going back after reportedly getting some black.

SIR GEOFFREY

Ah, what a damned shame. My darling Cressida went through the exact same thing in the Congo. Last time I saw her, she was waving goodbye from the back of an elephant, naked as the day I met her. Ah well - I guess it's off to war, then?

ADAMS

Indeed!

SIR GEOFFREY

I meant for you, not me. Of course.

ADAMS

Of course, Sir. Wouldn't dream of it any other way. (EXITS) "

Bravo to all!

Jack Ketch Proffers An Explanation

Richard — Fri, 02 May 2008 13:59:00 EDT

A few days yore, as I was sifting through ~~the excrement of Fleet ditch~~ the comments, an epiph'ny struck my pate. I, your faithful executioner, have fail'd you. I negleckted to explain the diff'rence betwixt a comment that pleases me, and a comment that makes me wonder if maybe I should give Buzz Bissinger a weapon and your home address. Prithee accept mine apology for such noisome oversight. After the jump, I shall present a full explanation for why you may be executed.

Because I feel like it.

And now, this week's condemned.

Executed: Hez
Because I feel like it.

Executed: Unfun
Because I feel like it.

Executed: McCheeburger
Because I feel like it.

Executed: Digitalsmoothie
Because I feel like it.

Executed: BinkysDream
Because he's a brummy twit. And because I feel like it.

You have all raised my choler. Be less annoying next week. As always, condemnations, bribes, and pleas for mercy may be sent to GawkerExecutioner@gmail.com. Don't email Denton, Pareene, Richard, Sheila, Hamilton, Nick Douglas, Ryan or anyone else from the Court of Gawker. I'm not them, and they don't care. I actually don't either, but whatever

Please Stop Talking About Puppies

Hamilton Nolan — Thu, 01 May 2008 13:13:53 EDT

One of the things I never figured out about the internet is why certain sites have commenters, who those commenters are, and what compels them to do what they do. It's one thing to spend your time commenting on a site that has witty, engaging repartee, like this one. But some other places are inexplicable. Like one that came to my attention today: DailyPuppy.com. It exists to post puppy pictures. Okay, fine, I have nothing negative to say about that, dog Nazis. But do said puppy pictures require 90 comments just today, which all sound like this actual example: "Oh baby you are such a cutie-pie. A zillion biscuits and cuddles poppet and have a wonderful life. xxxxxxxxxxx." GOD. It really challenges your ability to even continue liking puppies. Below are some more of the deep thoughts on Chloe the Labrador Retriever, today's puppy (pictured). This dog can't read, you fools!

You are so cute! You remind me of my Duke and Sunshine when they were young. Hugs and slurrpy kisses to you.
You are so so so so cute Chole. Your my number 1 dog!!!!!!!!

She is absolutely beautiful, lots & lots of belly rubs for Chloe, please.

What a pretty little girl you are Chole, and educated too...MOJO's Dad

You can tell from every photo how alert and intelligent she is! Many ahppy years to come, Ihae a 12 year old black lab :)

I love squishy little labs with their loose puppy skin!! I hope you have many many years of love and play ahead of you.

You can just see the love and devotion in her eyes. I wish you many happy years with her. Tons of cookies and belly rubs to you pretty girl

Awww...look at the puppy lips!! I just wanna kiss her and squeeze her! Have fun.

Oh my, Chloe sure captured my heart. She is just BEAUTIFUL!!!! One of the prettiest Labs I've ever seen.. :) Chloe I'm giving you 11 trillion biscuits :)

"I'M SCARED OF YOU PEOPLE," says Chloe.

Surprise Executions!

Richard — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 14:39:00 EDT

Farewell to Fred_Istare, anagram sam, Chief Wahoo, izzodee554, annasballs, Kelly Kreth, and SuperUnison. Your thoughts on the physical appearance of the crazy Dartmouth professor were HILARIOUS!! Prats.