New Yorkers, your #2 bachelor: Steven Rubenstein, the New York Post's own flack. Huh. We'll leave all the commentary here implied.


Former MSNBC dude Dan is already going out with Renee Zellweger. More importantly he's already engaged...in a perversion of journalism. Pervert!


"Ron needs a woman who can be 'uptown' at galas and 'downtown' in the bedroom." Good god. Should not be allowed.


There's no denying that Keith, the most important writer of our time, possesses a sufficient amount of literary fameballdom to make the list. But he lives in Russia now. Sorry ladies.


The wealthy young Facebook founder is the perfect catch? But he lives in California. As does his girlfriend. Sorry ladies, pt. 2.


[They also referred to HOT BACHELOR painter Jules de Balincourt as "Jules Bettencourt"]

At a Yahoo parenting group for Manhattan mothers, Natalie Diaz—head of the Manhattan Twins Club!—posted an angry message regarding the story, featuring, amusingly, a sad note from Wendy Straker Hauser, the story's author, claiming her piece was butchered by terrible Post editors looking to make entitled New York mothers look bad.

Ok Ladies, not sure how many of you saw the article in the Page Six section of the Post this weekend, but a while back I posted that there was a writer looking to gather info. A few of you were quoted in there, or should I say, misquoted!

Long story short, the article was HORRIBLE. It was basically saying that moms are choosing IVF so they can have twins for the "status symbol" factor.

I received this email this morning:

"I am sure you saw the article today. I cannot apologize enough. The story I wrote and handed in was nothing like this. The tone was different as was the overall focus. In addition certain quotes were edited to seem more harsh and others were taken out of context (Risa's quote at the end is an example of this). As a NY mom who is truly in awe of moms of twins I am mortified. Is there anyway that you could post this on your website for me? I just wanted to personally apologize. Of course I am sorry to you as well. Again, it was never my intention to make this a snarky bitchy story bashing other moms. Wendy"

This was my reply: "Well, to say the least, I was shocked. To say that having twins is a status symbol, is saying that pre-term labor, almost dying during childbirth, dealing with premature children, then trying to deal with two crying, two sick, and all the rest of the wonders that comes with the territory, is in the height of fashion! I sincerely think your newspaper needs to retract the whole story. I think this should happen fast. I know this was not your fault, but you should know who to send this too, right. Feel free to send me their number.

So ladies, I ask for your help today. And for our out of state members, this applies to you just the same (CT, NC and CO, feel free to forward this to your folks). If you have a second today, send an email to: Amy Levin-Epstein at alevinepstein@... She is the editor of the post. Let her know that this article was embarrassing as a mother of twins! Please cc me on the email, since I am going to compile them and send them by mail as well.

Hahaha all journalists are sociopathic leeches who exploit the lives and words of their subjects. And then they blame editors. Also all Manhattan mothers of twins are terrible, we read it in a newspaper.

Leveraging the gossip column franchise into something other than just a gossip column has long been a problem for the Post. The Rupert Murdoch-owned paper first tried to launch Pagesix.com two booms ago, and once again last year before throwing in the towel after just three months.

The weekly incarnation of Page Six Magazine was launched in the fall of 2007. The magazine did actually have some good stories from time to time—Josh Stein's autobiography! The complete Raffaello Follieri!—as well as plenty of crappy celebrity socialite fluff. But you can never have too much of that, really.

All told, it currently employs about a dozen editorial staff. We asked the Post how many (if any) are going to be kept on for the quarterly version, but they didn't respond immediately. But here's the statement with the bad news. Update: 23 people, both edit and business side, lost their jobs today.

STATEMENT FROM THE NEW YORK POST -

"As a result of the difficult economy and continuing advertising decline
across the industry, Page Six Magazine will now be published four times
a year," announced Jennifer Jehn, Senior Vice President. "We're proud
that it's a great magazine and, should the advertising market improve in
the future, we will revisit publishing it more frequently."

The last weekly edition of Page Six Magazine is expected to be in paper
on Sunday, February 15, 2009.

"I once heard Alec Baldwin leave a message on my mom's answering machine. Relax—they're friends. All it said was, "Hey Laurie. This is Alec. I'll pay you back that $20 I owe you." So it was nice to finally meet him at this ArtWalk benefit."

Well-played, sir, well-played.

There is a far different side to this city; every day is not 73 degrees and sunny, there are no beaches or accessory pets [um, what?? -ed.] and thankfully no-one drives drunk. Manhattan is a city centered on style and sophistication. The place where krispy kreme was invented and anything and everything you could ever desire from Q-Tips to Cipriani’s can be delivered right to your door.

Krispy Kreme actually started, like most delicious fried food products, in the South. In North Carolina, specifically. Serves the willowy heiress right for fancying herself an expert on junk food.

But we still look forward to seeing how Hearst transforms herself. We're betting on some kind of vanity website. Though she's probably bristle at the comparison, Hearst is already sounding like fellow protocelebrity Emily Brill:

The thing the people don’t realize is that it is a system. You don’t have to conform. It is about breaking the mold and reaching inside yourself to discover not what you are and what you are doing but who you could be and all you could accomplish.

The Post admitted today that the "Hearst Chronicles" was not always written by Lydia Hearst. Instead, the model "was interviewed by a reporter, who put her thoughts into cohesive paragraphs."

"Cohesive" being a relative term.

At least some of these interviews were conducted via email, so Hearst may still try to claim to have "written" her columns. But when one person is asking questions and another is answering those questions, there's not really any question as to which is the journalist and which is the writing-challenged minor celebrity.

Worst for Hearst is that the emails constitute written proof she was dissing her family, a fact the Post is exploiting gleefully, quoting the heiress as follows:

I do think [Hearst Corp.] should cut back on events, but it is a bit sever [sic] to cut back on the Christmas party, that's like the joke in the Scrooge films where the holiday parties and bonuses are canceled.

You know, if socialites would just content themselves with being socialites instead of insisting on pretend day jobs that help them feel modern and fulfilled, Hearst would never have sought to brand herself a "Freelance Journalist" and this whole kerfuffle could have been avoided.

Then again, a gig that combines the journalistic impulses of Page Six and the Hearst family was bound to end in some sort of explosion. If only it could have been a bit more spectacular!

Mr. Wilson replied, “You realize that was a joke, right?” [The Oprah producer] did not! Mr. Wilson asked if they would still require his expertise on the show. The man had to double-check. Mr. Wilson knew it was all over. “I could been the James Frey of midair masturbation,” he said.

You know, telling "jokes" is all well and good, but messing with the integrity of Page Six Magazine is no laughing matter.

Ha ha — gotcha! Bwahahaha....

Follieri's story is different, really, because while the other rich actress- and model-dating horndogs find themselves in hot water for whoring and partying, Follieri's facing jail time for pretending to be the most pious motherfucker in New York. He boasted of imaginary connections to the Catholic Church to scam money from investors that he needed to keep up his lifestyle of being a the perfect wealthy, charitable Catholic.

As the Church faced fallout from the child abuse scandal, Follieri stepped up to help them unload their real estate properties and convert them into morally agreeable businesses. He hired the nephew of of the Vatican's secretary of state and went around claiming to be a "representative for the Vatican." But Follieri's only real connection to the church was a guy who could arrange to get him a tour of the garden every now and then. But the scam worked! Thanks, as always, to how easily duped the self-righteous rich can be.

While his love life with Anne was flourishing, in 2005 Raffaello found his most high-profile partners for the Follieri Group yet. That year, he became friends with Doug Band, a young aide to former President Bill Clinton. Doug, who was often seen cavorting with Raffaello in Manhattan restaurants like Nobu and Cipriani, served as a matchmaker. He introduced Raffaello to a Canadian real estate developer named Michael Cooper, a meeting for which Raffaello paid $400,000. More importantly, Doug introduced him to Bill Clinton and his close personal friends, including supermarket magnate and billionaire Ron Burkle. In April 2005, Ron formed a joint venture with Raffaello, called Follieri/Yucaipa Investments, to develop unused Catholic properties. Ron pledged $105 million to help his new business partner in this pursuit. One year later, Raffaello made his own significant donation, pledging $1 million to the Clinton Global Initiative, a charity founded by the former president. This move gave Raffaello a chance to spend more time with one of the most influential men in the world, and he seized the opportunity to vacation with Clinton in Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic. In a picture taken at that time, Raffaello has his arm draped around Bill Clinton on one side and Anne Hathaway on the other. Everyone is smiling for the camera. ­Raffaello seemed to have it all: fame, success, money, friendship, the perfect girl.

Doug Band! You may remember him as Bill Clinton's guy Friday, who has a terrible habit of introducing the former president to complete scumbags and then also failing to keep Bill's own behavior in check.

By 2007, Burkle was suing Follieri for misappropriation of that million dollars. Because Follieri used it to pay for his penthouse and his lavish lifestyle, which he needed to keep up appearances as a successful friend of the Vatican. It really all would've been easier if he'd actually just made connections at the Vatican and managed real estate for them for real, right? But the one time they tried to do this, with a church in Philadelphia, it burned down and they sold it for no profit.

But once the Burkle suit was settled and the jet company sued him and the NYPD arrested him for bouncing a check and the PR company sued him and his foundation's only employee quit AND it became apparent that Andrew Cuomo was going to indict him, you would think actress Anne Hathaway would've given up on him? Or that he would've given up on his scam? Not so much.

So yes, it was an audacious and impressive lie that he lived, but it looks for all the world like he actually bought into it himself.

[via EV Grieve]

She continues:

It's going up to $81 now. The subway is the easiest and cheapest way to get around. And unfortunately it's the only way during rush hour. I am in favor of the congestion tax, though. People who live and work here all year round should get some sort of exemption sticker and driving visitors should be taxed. Traffic is getting out of control.

The lady says: "If it is true, the news of Brooke Astor's son being indicted for mishandling his mother's fortune is disgraceful. As an heiress, I think the most important thing is to maintain respect for the legacy that has afforded a wonderful life." Do tell!

She continues: "To invite unfavorable attention is the ultimate betrayal to the name, and it's surprising that anyone from a family with those means might misuse a loved one's money or sully a grand reputation."

Someday, we imagine, Lydia's mom might want to sit her down and have a candid talk about that little Symbionese Liberation Army kerfuffle.

Of twenty-one people, only three turned out to be pill-poppers: one was on Prozac and the other two took Wellbutrin. Everyone else was either miraculously straightedge or lying. A sample of the straightedge/liars' responses:

"No, but [an ex] thinks I should be."

"I am not, maybe I should be?"

"Ha, no, I'm a purist!"

"No happy pills for me, I'm all natural."

"Never tried them."

"Just pot and booze, but I don't think they count."

"Weed is my nonprescription nonlegal antianxiety solution of choice."

Atoosa watched the film 'Million Dollar Baby,' "At the end, Hilary Swank is on resuscitators and asking them to unplug her. She was like, I don't need to live anymore. Everything I wanted to accomplish, I've already accomplished," Atoosa says. "And I sort of felt like that. All my energy had been going toward work and not my home life. It just wasn't fun anymore."

Soon after that, her husband (whom she'd met at party in 1995) had a really lucrative day at work. "He said to me, 'You know, you don't have to do this.' Because I was so unhappy at my job." That clinched it for her.

I really don't know how I feel about [a woman in the White House]. I see the positive parts of it. But, you know, I think there's something incredible about a First Lady. That, to me, is a woman in the White House. It's sort of like being parents to the United States, and she takes on the role of mother and confidante and care-giver. Standing behind every powerful man, there's a powerful woman...I don't want to say no, because that doesn't sound very open-mined. But do I want it to be Hillary? No, I don't think so.

Also, we learn Angie is married to a former football player with whom she likes to vacation in Las Vegas, was discovered by David Hasselhoff — "please don't make it sound cheesy, because that's not what it was" — wears silk pajamas that are lined in cashmere, took the stage during the Republican National Convention, loves to shop, would like to have another child but is "waiting on God," has a four-year-old daughter with a pet gecko that totally grosses her out although she is "confident that at any point she will be into Christian Louboutin instead of the lizard," and credits her high school cheerleading coach with instilling in her the confidence to realize she was "not a complete idiot."

Just because I'm friendly, and I like to guffaw when I laugh, and have a cold beer and hang out with my husband and my girlfriends, doesn't mean that I'm not just as intelligent as someone from, let's say, Manhattan.

Anyway, the writer, Amy Spencer, mysteriously fails to mention Fred Thompson, which could be because she, too, is just as intelligent as someone "from Manhattan," or more likely, because she asked Angie about the election and Angie was like, "huh? Oh no I was planning on endorsing Pat Tillman..."