Gawker: fucking thursdays

Writer Finds Writing Book Hard!

Choire — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 15:40:20 EST

I have never paid, and I will never pay, for an "AvantGuild" membership to "freelancer-helping website" Mediabistro. (Also, I hope that I never have to say "AvantGuild" aloud. What the HELL construction is that?) So I will never read this story by Greg Lindsay about how hard it is for him to write his book. The story's deck is: "From borrowing from John McPhee to 'guarding his headspace' our writer fights to pass the 25,000-word mark." All of those things sound really bad! Unless he's in Princeton, borrowing John McPhee's pencil or something? Anyway, if anyone would like to read and summarize, please do. Also, I would like to meet him some time. Mr. McPhee, not Greg Lindsay. I've already met Greg. He wears nice clothes and is friendly. I gave my mom "Oranges" over Thanksgiving, and guess what? She loved it too. Now I am trying to read that one about the bark canoes and also the one about cattle-rustling. But reading, Greg Lindsay, is almost as hard as writing—I say that as someone who actually finished "Annals of the Former World," and where is my medal?—and don't you forget it.

Off the Ground: A Journo Logs Writing His First Book, Part IV [Mediabistro] [Image: Nina Katchadourian]

A Fond Look Back At The Worst Day Of The Week

abalk — Thu, 27 Sep 2007 12:40:37 EDT

Not that we're counting down the days until our imminent departure for Radar or anything, but when we woke up this morning and carved another X into the wall, we came to a realization that was both full of heartbreaking nostalgia and Cock-arousing joy: Today is my penultimate Fucking Thursday here!

Fucking Thursdays, you'll recall, are the way we refer to the worst day of the week, when news is extra-slow and we have to resort to incredibly thin premises to meet our quotas.

Ah, the memories: That time we wouldn't buy the rights to a picture of Angelina Jolie, so we took a picture of it on my computer instead. (We pay tribute to it above with a picture of this very post with that picture of a picture!) The day we put Choire in punctuation rehab. Our menstuating zombie movie. This senseless tribute to Willard Scott. Our IM with Jesus. Each one its own special little snowflake, a valentine we hold pressed to our chest, an indelible part of our legacy here at Gawker. We're a little emotional, but we're wishing ourselves a Happy 64th Fucking Thursday. Our week won't be the same without it. And THANK FUCKING GOD.

Dress Julia Allison

abalk — Thu, 20 Sep 2007 16:37:11 EDT

Julia Allison needs your help! The newly single Star Editor-at-Large surely must need help topping last year's Halloween costume—though we're all afraid your suggestions will just be different permutations of 'a vulva.' Oh, Jules, of course they won't! America is your fan. Let's all pitch in and help Ms. Allison find the perfect Halloween costume. It's going to be hard to do better than her previous outfit (a costume made entirely out of Magnum XL condoms), but we're sure one of these choices, if executed correctly, could do the trick.

We'll pass the winning entry along to Jules. You're free to offer your write-in suggestions in the comments, but let's not be predictable and go with some permutation of "a vulva." You people are better than that. Think out of the box.

'Boston Globe' Confirms Baldwin Intelligence Suspicions

abalk — Thu, 21 Jun 2007 18:00:57 EDT

Because we really needed a massive study to figure that one out.

Older siblings really are know-it-alls, study finds [Boston Globe]

Angelina Jolie's Intellectual Secrets

abalk — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 17:50:21 EDT

You may not know it, but press-averse Oscar winner Angelina Jolie is a huge fan of quirky literary quarterlies. While some say she developed her interest in the scene during what we assume was her brief affair with n+1's Marco Roth, it's obvious that she's not beholden to any one particular title. Clearly having heard of the financial drain recently incurred by McSweeney's, the talented thespian took to the streets of Manhattan yesterday with a copy of Dave Eggers' What Is The What? as a show of solidarity. Possibly she also agreed to exchange her lifetime subscription for a pack of playing cards. Celebrities: They're just like a couple of doofuses in Williamsburg! [Ed. Note: Yes, that is a picture of Balk's computer looking at the photo of Angelina Jolie carrying the Dave Eggers book that we were not going to pay $500 to buy. It's a nice picture though! Log into the fine website Splash News and go see!]

BONUS DIRECTOR'S CUT: Go behind the scenes and see how this post happened!

If you've read this site with any degree of frequency, for which we apologize, you'll have noticed that Thursdays seem to be the most difficult day for us to put together anything resembling a readable blog. We stretch more, we make items out of things that normally wouldn't merit a mention, we resort to weird, self-referential material that results in a fusillade of indignant e-mails from publisher Nick Denton, all of them simply reading "too inside." But, chatting with a colleague from popular new girly-site Jezebel this morning, we learned that we were not alone.

Jezebeller: Do you want to do something about a picture of Angelina Jolie?
BALK BTW: Hahahaha
Jezebeller: i dunno, just a thought. i have pic if u want it
BALK BTW: Sure, we'll give it a whirl.
BALK BTW: Fucking Thursdays.
Jezebeller: RIGHT?
BALK BTW: We're ALREADY at Julia Allison
Jezebeller: why the fuck are thursdays so awful?
BALK BTW: Nothing publishes at all.
Jezebeller: yeah but thurs. is bad for us too
Jezebeller: and we don't over-rely on that kind of stuff the way u do
BALK BTW: It's a weird, eventless day for whatever reason.
Jezebeller: at least it's one day till friday
BALK BTW: Maybe that's why.
BALK BTW: Can't you guys gin up another "I would totally blow him" IM? People seem to like those!
Jezebeller: what was a totally blow him?
BALK BTW: Oh, just a sort of "hot guys" conversation that you ladies do so well.
Jezebeller: haha
Jezebeller: we'll see
Jezebeller: we have to be "into" it
BALK BTW: I want to do an IM with Choire about why he's so obsessed with the Transformers movie.
BALK BTW: But I'm afraid I'd find out.
Jezebeller: HAHAHA
Jezebeller: PLEASE DO THAT
BALK BTW: I think we'd all be too frightened to learn the real reasons.

Inside Silicon Alley: An Intervention

abalk — Thu, 31 May 2007 15:22:17 EDT

Sure, we joke a lot about addiction here at Gawker, but we're well aware that it can be a serious - and dangerous - problem. Recently, a member of the staff had a substance issue, which co-workers were so concerned that, under the pretense of having a company get-together, we lured the editor with the disease (because that's what it is, a disease) into the office to discuss it. Here's what happened.

[BALK, DOREE, EMILY, JOSH, and an UNFAMILIAR MAN are seated on the couches at the Gawker office. CHOIRE enters, carrying a baking pan.]

CHOIRE: I'm here! And I brought my special zucchini-banana muffins, just baked! Is everybody ready to - [CHOIRE suddenly notices UNFAMILIAR MAN.] Hey, is this the new Lockhart?

UNFAMILIAR MAN: Choire, my name is Robert. I'm an interventionist. I want you to know that everyone here today is here because they love you, and they want you to get help. Are you ready to get help? Because everyone has something they want to tell you.

CHOIRE: [Backing away slightly] But... but... what's the problem? I don't understand? Things are going so well!

UNFAMILIAR MAN: Who wants to go first? Choire, why don't you take a seat. You're very special to these people, and they need to talk to you.

CHOIRE: [Realizing that if he's being intervened with, at least he won't have to edit for a little while.] Okay! [Sits, unwraps muffin, starts to chew noisily.]

[BALK stands up.]

BALK: Choire, man, what can I say? You're my managing editor. I love you. You've done great things to the site since you've come onboard. We're all really pleased. But this problem you have... I mean, we've all talked about it, and we thought you had it under control, but it's just gotten worse. I can't stand to see you doing this to yourself. It's killing you. Why can't you see? [BALK bursts into tears, runs out to Crosby Street to smoke.]

UNFAMILIAR MAN: You see that? You made a grown man, someone who loves you, cry like a little girl. You happy about that?

CHOIRE: He cries all the time! You suggest one little edit and it's "Boo hoo hoo, I quit!" I'd be more concerned if he weren't crying! But I still don't understand what the problem is!

EMILY: [Stands, walks over to CHOIRE, delivers sharp slap to the face] Did that hurt?

CHOIRE: [Rubbing face] Uh, yeah! What the fuck?!?

EMILY: Well, that's how you make each and every one of us feel every day watching you do this to yourself. And you're not just doing it to yourself. You're doing it to all of us. God, I am so angry with you right now. Focus, Em. Find center. [EMILY drops into meditative position, hums mantra.]

DOREE: Choire, do you really not know why we're here?

CHOIRE: No! And I wish someone would tell me!

DOREE: It's the exclamation marks, Choire. You're addicted to them. You've gone crazy. You can't edit a post without inserting at least three per paragraph. It's not healthy, it's not necessary, and it's bad punctuation. And we're worried that you can't stop.

CHOIRE: But!

UNFAMILIAR MAN: See what you're doing there?

CHOIRE: No! I mean, yes! I mean... Stein, do you feel the same way?

JOSH: I do. I'm sorry. I just want you to get better. Also, can I have one of those muffins?

CHOIRE: Sure! [Realizes] Oh. I mean, sure! Oh my God, I can't stop!

UNFAMILIAR MAN: Choire, if you're prepared, we can have you on a plane tonight that will bring you to Full Stops, Malibu. It's a full-time, twenty-four hour punctuation rehabilitation facility that works on a strict Strunk and White method. If you're ready to commit to the program, we can have you de-emphasized by July 1.

CHOIRE: I—I don't—Okay, yes! Yes! Do you know what it's like, living like this! I can't even ask a proper question! I need help! Let's go now!

UNFAMILIAR MAN: Say it with me. "Let's go now."

CHOIRE: [Gritting teeth, showing effort.] Lets. GO. NOW.

UNFAMILIAR MAN: I knew you had it in you.

[UNFAMILIAR MAN takes CHOIRE by the hand and leads him to the waiting limo outside. BALK re-enters, EMILY disengages from meditation.]

EMILY: That went well, I think.

BALK: Totally. Now I'm finally going to get to use the word "twat" in a post! Let's go, kids! It's our time!

[CURTAIN]

And that's how it happened. Except it was actually about alcohol, and it was actually for BALK. The crying stuff is all true, though.

Senior Moments With Willard Scott

abalk — Thu, 31 May 2007 14:25:54 EDT

If your crazy Grandpa is too far away to visit, or just dead, you might just get a little misty watching this montage of some great recent moments from former "Today Show" weatherman and centenarian celebrator Willard Scott. Yes, he's still alive. Anyway, the whole thing was brilliantly assembled for some reason by Gawker videologist Alex Goldberg. Also, "areola" refers to the colored area of skin which encircles the nipple. That's pretty much all you need to know going in.

Twin Guitar Special 90210

balk — Thu, 31 May 2007 14:07:54 EDT

Here are a pair of twins (from Brooklyn band The Forms) playing the theme to "Beverly Hills 90210." It gave us time to reflect. Whatever happened to Jennie Garth?

Let's Make A Movie!

balk — Thu, 24 May 2007 17:50:32 EDT

Longtime Gawker readers are aware that I've been looking for a way out of here pretty much since the first week I took the job. Last night I had an idea that may just be my ticket out. In part, it was due to you guys; the intense response to the bubonic plague post, combined with my recent viewing of 28 Days Later planted the seed in my head. Zombie flicks are hot right now. I think I've got a special angle on the genre that will make me—and someone with the courage and funding to back it up—enough money that I never have to pretend to care about Conrad Black again. Intrigued? Of course you are. Read on.

My concept for the film is simple. Every 28 Days is a story about what happens when every woman in the world suddenly has their period at the same time. (We can come up with some scientific reason for this involving global warming and its effects on the tides; green is hot right now.) The film opens with lots of ominous shots of tampon boxes and Midol bottles, and the tension grows as we cut to various scenes of men suddenly being hectored or subjected to inexplicable crying jags and slammed doors.

The plot centers around a heroic group of male survivors who must make their way to Hershey, Pennsylvania, in order to find an antidote that will cure the "ragged" (which will be the film's jargon for those who have fallen under the curse). I'm picturing a Jake Gyllenhaal type (or, if you have the clout, Jake Gyllenhaal) as their leader, a man with a feminine side who is nonetheless intent on getting that chocolate lest his entire gender perish. (The scenes where various members of the party are picked off and infected—and let's remember, the black guy (Tracey Morgan?) goes first—will provide the light relief, but we want to convey the immediacy of the peril these men are under: Every woman in the world is having her period simultaneously save for a wise, post-menopausal character named Aunt Flo (maybe the lady who plays Aunt May in the Spider-Man movies?), who imparts some life-changing wisdom on the boys before being torn to shreds by a mob of angry raggeds for enabling the patriarchy. It's a story both men and women can relate to!

Obviously, there are a few details to work out, but let's be honest, with an idea this solid we can get some schmuck kid who just graduated from NYU film school and needs the cash to churn it out in a week or two. Listen up, bigtime Hollywood producers: I know you read Gawker. Who wants to be a fucking star? And get us the hell out of here? Step up.

Gawker's Guide To Pasty Thighs

Joshua Stein — Thu, 17 May 2007 18:27:06 EDT

Summer is nearly upon us. Now necklines begin to plunge, friendships morph into something more and then combust. Hipster parties begin to smell worse and worse. But maybe the most crisisey crisis we face is what to do with those pasty thighs, blindingly white from their months in hibernation. For too long we've been taught to hide these trunks in shame. But isn't it time to accept this no man's land for what it is? Are they not beautiful pillars of chunky marble holding up your torso? Send your pasty whites to thighs@gawker.com along with your age, first name and a little about what your pasty thighs mean to you. It's a movement, people! After the jump, we'll show you some of ours so you show us yours. —Josh

Previously: The Jane Guide To Boobs! BOOBS! [SORTA NSFW]

How To Befriend A Blogger For Real

abalk2 — Thu, 10 May 2007 17:25:07 EDT

The Politico is offering its audience of congressional pages and lobbyist interns a handy list of ways to get the ear of the blogosphere. While their tips are directed at those who want to make contact with political bloggers, many of them can be applied to those who blog about things like, say, media and celebrity gossip. And cats. And cheezborgahs. We've taken their suggestions and adapted them to let you know how to get your whatever placed right here.

1. Bloggers cover stories that interest them, not all the news that's fit to print.
Guess what, we don't care about Darfur! I mean, sure, we care in the sense that human suffering on a mass scale is a terrible thing to have to hear about at dinner parties, but if it's not about vagina pictures or poetesses like Meghan O'Rourke (or, ideally, a combination thereof), we can't do anything with it. It's great that you want to save the environment and everything, but our Joel Stein jokes aren't going to write themselves, unlike Joel's. Just send us the stuff we can use.

2. Bloggers are lone individuals with limited amounts of time rather than large institutions with a space quota to fill.
This is decidedly not the case for us. Sure, we're lone individuals (for good antisocial reason), but we have MASSIVE quotas. We need whatever we can get. Except crap about Darfur or the environment that isn't about lady-flowers.

3. Bloggers write about topics in their areas of interest from a particular point of view.
Absolutely. Here's a handy guide to who is interested in what and how they'll write it. Emily likes stuff about how the ladies are oppressed by the patriarchy. Also feline friends. She will write with strident wit. Doree is interested in media shenanigans and anything that makes kids at Columbia look stupid. She will drill down. Josh is all about restaurants and real estate. He will use many words which you will have to look up in the dictionary, and might have sex with your girlfriend. Balk tosses off whatever falls out of his brain, often without regard to spelling or logical conclusions. He is also interested in finding a new job, one that involves getting or dispensing alcohol. Choire is a master at examining the intersection of class and culture in New York. Expect many exclamation marks. Also at this point, he will basically do anything to get with any kind of man. Particularly one with a big neck and a beard, maybe a little bit dumpy, 38-44, under 240 pounds, tall is good but short works, preferably with a six-figure salary. He is both desperate and serious.

4. Bloggers need material for posts rather than quotes from both sides.
Yep. We don't even give a shit if it doesn't even have one side!

5. Consider giving exclusives, especially to more prominent bloggers.
Again, yes. Who's more prominent than us? Maybe the panda chick from Gothamist. Or 874 other weblogs. Even so, we love exclusives. They make our owner happy, which keeps him off our backs for a little while. (Ten or so minutes, but you have no idea how valuable, and soothing, those ten minutes are. It's like right after you put the lotion on but before you put it back in the basket.) Also, we are total whores for exclusives. We will so quid whatever your quo is.

6. Bloggers aren't party operatives.
This is true on across the board. Don't assume that because we've said something nice about you once we'll always follow your lead. We make our own decisions and call things as we see them. Unless you've got an exclusive, in which case we'll say whatever you want, and trash our mothers in the process.

7. Less is more.
Right. Guess what happens the third time we hear about your amazing product/brilliant blog/penis-erecting pill in a single day? It goes into the trash folder alongside all the e-mails from Choire telling us "PLEASE TO USE, PROPER PUNCTUATION, YOU COMMA, SPLICERS." Sure, sometimes we forget about things, but if you've e-mailed us something five times in two hours and we haven't done anything about it, there's a reason: We don't give a shit. And you're pissing us off.

Simple enough, right? Keep those cards and letters coming! And those sweet exclusives. Our goal is to get to the point where we don't have to produce an original material at all, except all of your original material, of course. Won't you help us make that dream a reality?

Netiquette: How to befriend a blogger [The Politico]

Marketer Deathly Sick Of 'E-Mail'

abalk2 — Thu, 03 May 2007 18:03:35 EDT

Meet Chad White. Chad's a man on a mission, a crazy dreamer who knows that if you work hard and apply some pressure, your goal can come to fruition. Chad longs for a better world: A world in which we stop referring to electronic communiqués as "e-mail." As Chad so eloquently puts it, "It's now time for the word to take its final step and become simply "email," severing its antiquated 19th-century association with mail delivered by people in blue uniforms—and signifying the ubiquity of this form of communication." A noble aspiration. But how to make it happen? Harness the power of marketing!

You can also show your support for email by signing the Email Experience Council's Hyphens Equal Disrespect petition. Just click here, let us know your name and the company you represent, and we'll add your name (just your name, not your email address) to our petition so that those in the industry and those outside it can see how we spell respect. As the number of signees grows, the EEC will use this list to demonstrate the will of the industry and to convince publishers to change their spelling of the word. Dictionaries will fall in line behind the publishers.

Will you join in Chad's crusade? Because he sees a promised land, where the sting, the burning insult, of the hyphen is but a distant memory. Let's work together and make this dream come true, people.

Hyphens Equal Disrespect [MediaPost]

Cat Kills Vet

abalk2 — Thu, 26 Apr 2007 14:50:22 EDT

From today's Times obituaries:

Dr. James R. Richards, a prominent veterinarian who was a recognized authority on cat care, died on Tuesday in Johnson City, N.Y. He was 58 and lived in Dryden, N.Y.
Dr. Richards died of injuries he sustained in a motorcycle accident on Sunday. According to Sgt. Kelly Daley of the New York State Police, he was thrown from his motorcycle after he tried without success to avoid hitting a cat that had run into the road.

Very sad. Say this for the guy: He died as he lived. Caring way too much about cats.

James Richards, Veterinarian and Expert on Cat Care, Dies at 58 [NYT]

'Styles' Serves Up A Big Bowl Of Spotted Dick

abalk2 — Thu, 19 Apr 2007 11:50:07 EDT

You know, there's no better way to undermine those silly jokes about Styles being "the gay section" than to run a giant collection of crotch shots in the paper. Still, we can probably have some fun: Let's play favorites! We're partial to first row, right. You?

But What if You Get Hit by a Taxi? [NYT]

How That NYT 'Old Men With Babies' Story Went Down: An Imagined Conversation

abalk2 — Thu, 12 Apr 2007 13:55:42 EDT

"In December 1996, inspired in part by [Tony] Randall's well-publicized late fatherhood (his wife was 26 at the time), I wrote an article for The New York Times about men having children at a stage in life when their peers were usually contemplating a move to Florida or their next cardiogram. One proud papa dubbed them start-over dads, or SODs for short.... Under the circumstances, it seemed natural to check in with some of the same fathers 10 years later to see how they are faring in their eighth or even ninth decade."

[Phone rings]
SMALL CHILD: Hello?
TV: Hi, this is Tom Vinciguerra from the New York Times. Is your daddy still alive?
SMALL CHILD: [Weeps into phone]
TV: Great, thanks! Bye!

He's Not My Grandpa. He's My Dad. [NYT]

What Would Jesus Really Do?

abalk2 — Thu, 05 Apr 2007 17:31:19 EDT

CNN's Roland Martin Hosts 'What Would Jesus Really Do?' Special
CNN contributor Roland Martin hosts an hour-long special on Friday, April 6, at 8 p.m. (ET), discussing how Jesus might solve modern-day problems including the war in Iraq, global warming, the gap between the rich and the poor and other contemporary challenges facing the world.

Obviously, one should expect this kind of thematic program given the season, but even so it seems like something of a snooze. And anyway, why bother seeing what a bunch of talking heads have to say about what Jesus might do when you can talk to the Man himself? We found him online.

BALK BTW: You got a sec?
Godjr: sure whats up
BALK BTW: They're doing a CNN special about how you'd handle the issues of the day.
Godjr: oooh, is it anderson? I lovelovelove anderson

BALK BTW: Roland Martin.
Godjr: :'(
BALK BTW: Sorry.
Godjr: never heard of roland martin
BALK BTW: That's because you only watch Entertainment Tonight.
Godjr: suck it, cojocaru rooooooooolz!
BALK BTW: I'm well aware of your position on Cojocaru. So anyway, can I ask you how you'd solve some of these intractable problems.
Godjr: go ahead. I'm just sitting on My ass waiting for the cable guy.
BALK BTW: They have cable in Heaven?
Godjr: hi def, motherfucker! and on heaven cable? antm is totally naked! except when that chick from seventeen is on.
BALK BTW: Atoosa Rubenstein.
Godjr: whatever. i already died for the sins of the world, id say ive done enough.
BALK BTW: Okay, let's stay on topic.
Godjr: "stay on topic". oooh, look at me, im balk! i write for GAWKER. i think i'm doing real reporting. what's the matter, you run out of meaningless shelter mag editors to make fun of?
BALK BTW: That's a little mean, Jesus.
Godjr: but funny!
Godjr: sorry.
Godjr: i get a little emotional this time of year.
BALK BTW: Oh, right, the crucifixion thing.
Godjr: no, the ncaas. is kentucky EVER GONNA WIN AGAIN?
Godjr: jk. of course the crucifixion. (but seriously, Tubby: SUCK MY WWEEEEENNNNIEEEEEEEEE! SUCK IT!)
Godjr: okay, that felt good. whaddya got, jewboy?
BALK BTW: Only half!
Godjr: ooooh, good, you're okay then. I get the feeling that youd hate jew heaven.
BALK BTW: Can we just get to the interview part already?
Godjr: sorry! forgive Me, I know not what I do. ask away
BALK BTW: Okay, how would you solve the following problems? First, the war in Iraq?
Godjr: easy. partition the country into three separate autonomous regions and work out some revenue-sharing agreement so no one feels like theyre getting shortchanged on the oil. keep some american presense there for about six months to try and establish stability and then turn it over to the un. Next?
BALK BTW: Global warming?
Godjr: update kyoto, tie the whole thing to some sort of fund so that developing nations like china have incentives to reduce their own emissions, stop making cars that are BIGGER THAN BETHLEHEM.
BALK BTW: Nice, we're almost there. The gap between the rich and poor?
Godjr: tough one. the poor you'll always have with you. still, id love to see something more along the lines of a safety net, it kind of blows what you guys are doing now.
BALK BTW: Good enough, that'll do it. Thanks!
Godjr: np. sorry about being making fun of you earlier. sometimes I'm a vengeful God. lemme make it up to you. wanna know how anna nicole's babydaddy is?
BALK BTW: OMG, yes!
Godjr: ldsafkjasdfljk
Godjr: I thought so. okay, you are so gonna shit, ready?
BALK BTW: Yes!
Godjr: style
BALK BTW: who?
Godjr: neil style strauss. the "neg" douchebag.
BALK BTW: ????????
Godjr: yeah, i guess that shit really works!
Godjr: okay, cable guy here. talk soon
BALK BTW: Happy Easter
Godjr: ugh, don't get me started, that new nazi pope is gonna have me on the line ALL DAY
Godjr: anyway
Godjr: peace out dude. go wildcats!
Godjr went away at 3:59:49 PM.
BALK BTW: I cannot believe the Strauss thing.
Auto Response from Godjr: rising. :+)

Who Is Radar's "Rikolas Deagitle"?

Emily Gould — Thu, 05 Apr 2007 14:45:22 EDT

The most interesting thing about Radar's tallying-up of whose reporting necessitates the most corrections at the Times—Alessandra Stanley, gasp!—is the byline. Google has never heard of Rikolas Deagitle. Was someone at Radar so ashamed of this feature that they would only publish it pseudonymously, like how David Lynch made the producers credit "Alan Smithee" on Dune? Is it... an anagram?

Editorial Elk Gas?
Digital Also Reek?
Godlike Slate Ira?
Godlike Arse Tail?
Gorilla Edit Sake?

What is Radar trying to tell us? Senior editor Adam Laukhuf says, "It's a pseudonym (obvi). The writer got a job [Ed: at the Times?] during the time he was researching the story, and doesn't think they'd like it too much. But to be fair, we made it up for him. And the reference is really stupid."

We keep sounding it out... and it almost sounds like... something.

Yes. Stupid. So stupid that no one will tell us what it is. Also we are stupid maybe. So do you know? Please tell us so that it doesn't become one of those meaningless awful questions that still somehow manages to keep us awake at night, like "What is the name of that movie where Reese Witherspoon is in a coma and her ghost haunts Mark Ruffalo?" —emily

Bad News Bearers [Radar]

Matt Drudge's Perfect Storm

abalk2 — Thu, 29 Mar 2007 11:42:46 EDT

Barbra Streisand, Hillary Clinton, and a beard! We're sure Matt is creaming his screen in Miami right now.

Drudge Report