UPDATE: Official response from Esquire's PR firm, Dan Klores Communications:

Hi Hamilton,
I saw your post on our December issue. I just wanted to note that the address label is in fact peelable, and if it gets stuck, there is an additional cover marker on page 8.
Just letting you know in case you want to correct your post.

There is no "peel" in the word "FUTURE."

Too late! This is where you say "That's ironic!" and some grammar nerd's like "This is not technically a case of 'irony'" or whatever. I guess it's "funny." [Pics: Robin Gunningham]

The New York Post gleefully reports today on Oren Canfield, the son of the Jack Canfield. Jack was the mogul whose self-help books became the gift-of-choice for depressed Christians, the broken-hearted, newly graduated, and petulant teenagers everywhere [Ed. Thanks, MOM.]. Well, it turns out Jack couldn't cook up a batch of Chicken Soup for the Soul in his own life if that shit was canned and microwavable in its packaging, according to a new book being written by little Oren. Notably, the Post makes a Soup Nazi joke (the article's title: "No 'Soup' for us — guru's kid"), and also use the caption 'CHICKEN' SNIT for the picture accompanying the article, before getting to the good stuff at the bottom of the bowl:

"He was the lying, cheating, conniving, manipulative inhuman son of a bitch who had left my mom when I was one and she was six months pregnant," Oran Canfield spews in "Long Past Stopping," which hits the shelves Tuesday. He said his dad abandoned his mom and brother to shack up with a young blond masseuse. After trouble with drugs and stealing, Oran eventually cleaned himself up. Now he lives in Brooklyn and is a drummer in a band called Child Abuse.

Emphasis mine. This is like that one time Dr. Atkins died of a heart attack and hypertension from eating too much meat and sodium. Doesn't it always seem like behind every attempt at self-help, there's something insidious and capitalistic and just bad at work? Maybe you're familiar with this statistic. If not, let Melanie Lindner's Forbes piece from earlier this year enlighten you:

Americans spent $11 billion in 2008 on self-improvement books, CDs, seminars, coaching and stress-management programs—13.6% more than they did back in 2005, according to Marketdata Enterprises, an independent Tampa-based research firm that tracks everything from adoption agencies to funeral homes. Latest forecast: 6.2% annual growth through 2012.

Though as it turns out, the kid's tell-all on what a shitbird Mr. Chicken Soup was actually brought them closer together. But, lesson learned: all the quotable stories and money in the world still won't buy you a kid who doesn't hate you if you're an asshole.

What do you get when you combine this dying meme with the other "Look At This Fucking Hipster" hating-hipsters-from-the-inside meme? You get Stuff Hipsters Hate, which is the type of Tumblr that you people will just keep sending us the link to until we write about it.

Here you are. Enjoy it while it lasts, because, god, [meta].

The Hipster-Sensibility "Sweet Spot" is in the ironic-alt quadrant, on the lower left. And you make a Z-trail that ends up in mainstream-sincerity. That's where a "hipster" is doing a lot of looking in the mirror, y'know, if they care or pay attention to items in that quadrant.

Yup, that feels about right. Corrections?

graphic by: Jeff Meininger

The Emmaus (PA) Borough Council is all like, hey guys, maybe put some ashtrays over there in your fancy headquarters so all your fucking nicotine fiend mountain bikers don't leave drifting piles of old butts in our nice park here, if it's not too much trouble? They even sent Rodale a letter. They're sending the whole town straight to hell:

Councilman Brian Holtzhafer said the park is littered with butts. Last year, his wife, Jenae Holtzhafer, wrote to council complaining about people smoking in front of her young children.

Outrageous. But it gets worse:

Shallow said Rodale got an e-mail in June 2008 from then Borough Manager Bruce Fosselman asking the company to ask its employees to put out their cigarettes in a canister the public works crew placed in the park. Rodale complied.

The can was used for a while, but ended up being thrown into the pond, most likely by children

Yes, by "children." That's just what Dave Zinczenko wants you to think.
[Chicago Tribune. Pic: just some guy in Afghanistan]

Back in September, Plenty may have foreseen it faced extinction as advertising cooled. It was trying to cut a funding deal, purportedly with global-warming evangelist Al Gore. (Given the losses and layoffs at Gore flagship media property, Current TV, news of the former vice president's interest should have been recognized immediately as a bad omen.)

But the do-gooder magazine apparently moved far too slowly.

Our tipster said the money from Gore or whoever didn't come through, and that Plenty editor and publisher Mark Spellun on Monday sacked everyone save for a skeleton crew of four or five people who will keep the website going. Which is actually a net positive for the environment, short term, what with the rescued trees and all. We just wish the likes of Vanity Fair and the Times Magazine would do the same with their own much more cynical "green" issues.

Elton, a touchy man, sued the Guardian over a satirical piece making fun of him. He did this because libel laws in the UK are absolutely bananas, and if you print anything bad about anybody you will be sued, to death. But in a stunning reversal of tradition, Elton lost!

In a groundbreaking libel decision, the judge said that "irony" and "teasing" do not amount to defamation. The ruling offers protection to writers of satirical articles clearly not meant to be taken seriously and was welcomed last night by media lawyers and journalists.

The Guardian was awarded costs and the singer, who brought the action, was refused leave to appeal by Mr Justice Tugendhat. John's legal team indicated that he might now seek leave to appeal.

I hear Elton John and The Queen wear dirty knickers! USA! [Guardian UK; pic via]

Case dismissed. [The Smoking Gun]

[Ad Age. These ads were still running through last weekend.]

They're looking for $75,000 in damages for what they see as Hilton's failure to deliver on her contractually obligated "reasonable promotion and publicity." (Though, they seemingly have no problem with the "acting services" that are demanded in the contract). So, we're assuming this means that she didn't throw herself in front of a speeding train or self immolate or give birth to a shadow baby wearing a t-shirt for the film, because every other "reasonable" amount of publicity seems to be, well, all that she does.

He claims, like the anti-change Rethuglican that he is, that the cover is not even a satire of The Obamas, but rather a comment on "the prejudice and dark imaginings about Barack Obama's—both Obamas'—past, and their politics." That sounds like the sort of "nuance" that a responsible editor would know never to attempt! Why can't you be more like Rolling Stone, David, and only feature angelic photos of Barry as Jesus Christ?

This is saying a particular thing at a particular time, when these imaginings and dark fantasies and misconceptions about Obama exist. And we're putting it all together in one image and holding a mirror up to it and showing it for it for the absurdity that it is.

We look forward to this new era of political cartooning, when images must reflect precisely what the creator means without use of exaggeration or satire. Maybe the Mallard Filmore guy should do their next issue?

So far perhaps the funniest unintended consequence of this irritating flap is that culture warrior conservatives are suddenly happily defending the goddamn New Yorker of all things!

We hope the Great New Yorker Joke-Explaining Tour lasts for the rest of this godforsaken month, as there's very little else happening in the news.

The common implication of these covers is that highly produced pop has no real emotion or thought behind it. By slowing them down and focusing on the lyrics, you're pointing out that the lyrics make no sense. That's totally valid for My Humps, but Umbrella and Four Minutes to Save The World are fine pop songs. I'm annoyed with the sentiment that the musician is somehow doing or saying something by stripping down production value. Take a look at this Ben Gibbard cover of Thriller.

It's the self-satisfied smirk and the laughter of the audience that bother me. They're so proud of themselves for being better than pop music.

And also, in de-pop-ifying these pop numbers, what are they removing? The R&B influence, the Rap influence, and pointing out the fact that a lot of pop lyrics fail to comport with standard spoken English but instead reflect African American vernacular. I'm just sayin'.

Also, I totally think the acoustic Four Minutes and Umbrella are pretty, but they still annoy me.