The Nation has come up with a fun way to make money when you're a cash-poor lefty mag, which is to just auction off any old crap they can get their hands on. Current auction items include a set of tires (value: $450) and a copy of Fighting Bob LaFollette: The Righteous Reformer (value: $23). Next week, the staff of The Nation will sell their own blood plasma.


Jack Shafer writes a true column about what inspires such epic coverage of Ivy League murders: Love of the Ivy League on one end of the media, and hate for the Ivy League on the other end. Jack, you left out "Genuine concern for the victim by the bloodsucking media bastards."


Apparently some citizens of America are urging Good Morning America to hire energetic money-chaser Suze Orman, as a face that they want to see on their television screens shortly after waking up? I will never understand Americans.


Politics are dividing American bloviation! National Joural asked its panel of "Congressional and Political Insiders" (whatever) to tell them which columnists are the most influential on their own thinking and Thomas fucking Friedman won, for fuck's sake. I assume these are the same "Americans" urging a major network to hire Suze Orman as morning news pep-squad leader? Anyhow the most divisive columnist was Charles Krauthammer, a psycho beloved by Republicans but not much at all by Democrats, who named Bob Guccione as their Most Admired Hero.

Time media critic James Poniewozik experienced intra-Time Warner corporate stupidity.

Chicago Tribune schadenfreude beat reporter John Keilman bragged about his marriage.

Wired editor Danny Dumas did not pimp his ride.

Financial-advice yeller Suze Orman Twittered at her girlfriend.

Senator spawn Meghan McCain represented the filthy-mouthed, sleepless future of the GOP.

Special thanks to Twitter tipster Matt Cherette for today's tweets! Did you witness the media elite tweet something indiscreet? Please email us your favorite tweets — or send us more Twitter usernames.

Peppy alternapublican blogueuse Meghan McCain threatened the Bay Area with a visit.

Suze Orman frowned on the acquisition of guacamole via credit card.

Pejorative-epithet-deprived media personality Bonnie Fuller recounted her face-to-chest meeting with Voldemort.

Gawker alumna Jessica Coen maintained her sense of proportion.

Chicago journalist Rob Elder experienced the diminution of print media firsthand.

Did you witness the media elite tweet something indiscreet? Please email us your favorite tweets — or send us more Twitter usernames.

There are many reasons to hate Orman, from her pitiable love of animal prints to her grating voice. The piece mentions her "toothy, cougar-like visage," which is funny! And it criticizes her loopy belief that money problems have to do with "emotional roadblocks" rather than, say, running out of money.

But dollar-cost averaging — steadily investing in the stock market over time as prices rise and fall — is generally regarded as better than the alternative, which is trying to time the market. The Big Money piece calls it "throwing good money after bad," which is just silly.

Indeed, here's Slate on the subject of dollar-cost averaging last fall:

Instead, by making regular, systematic investments throughout the year, you get the benefit of "dollar cost averaging," and don't have to worry about timing the market. Contrarian thinking today is that the market meltdown is a wonderful opportunity because stocks are ‘on sale'. If you are making regular 401(k) contributions, you are buying more shares than you could've bought previously.

Oh, sorry, that's not exactly Slate — that's BizBox by Slate, a Special Promotion by Open from American Express on Slate. An advertorial, in short.

So let's get this straight: Slate got paid by American Express to give its readers financial advice that it later badmouthed. Is that the publication's real beef with Suze Orman that it doesn't like the competition?

During the total economic meltdown of our nation's financial system, who do people turn to? Suze freaking Orman. She's now the face of FDIC, for god's sake. She may not be as dangerous as her closest competitor, mad man Jim Cramer, who actually gives specific advice that will cause you to lose your life savings. But she's insidious nonetheless; if people want financial advice, they definitely shouldn't turn to someone who's really an ad pitchwoman.

As the economy has soured, Ms. Orman has been asked to promote everything from telecommunication services to laundry detergent. And given the most recent market gyrations, her handlers are bracing for even greater demand.

According to the WSJ she's now as popular as Elton John. But people don't pay Elton John for investment advice!

Ms. Orman's history might give her some cause to tread carefully. In 2004, she starred in an ad for General Motors that promoted a no-interest financing promotion. Her appearance in the ad had some pundits crying foul. In essence, she was advocating taking on more debt — something she has long chided her followers for doing.

Ms. Orman said she agreed to represent GM in part because she thought the interest-free promotion was a good deal and needed to be pointed out to women, in particular.

Mmm hmm. Normal financial advisers have accused the Suze of being a fearmonger, which can only enrich her as terrified Americans make the mistake of running out and purchasing her books, rather than investing that $25 in a low-cost index fund. Her response: What else am I supposed to say to people who are literally standing in long lines outside of food distribution centers, speaking to me from their cell phones as they await their daily dose of enriched flour?

"For those people who are in credit-card debt... those who have already been foreclosed on... They are the people calling my shows, and they are in bread lines."

Meh. (Sorry Sheila, I know you like her). [WSJ. You can buy low-cost index funds at Vanguard.]

There are a few different strategies. Some, like failed failure WaMu, use humor, along the lines of "We've dragged our dessicated carcass to a safe place now. LOL!"

Others are going for the old "reassure you despite all evidence to the contrary" tactic:

In advertising, many financial institutions are racing to reassure consumers with soothing messages — that focus on important “S” words: strength, safety, stability, security.

“There is a safe and smart place to put your money,” ads for Commerce Bank tell newspaper readers.

Simultaneously, some institutions are continuing to communicate as if the recent upheavals had not happened. Ads for Discover Financial Services, for instance, try to coax consumers to sign up for yet another credit card, offering enticements like free balance transfers.

Ha, well I guess that's appropriate. The truth is advertising is just a buffet of bad options right now for banks. They can laugh it off and look stupid. They can try to reassure you and look like liars. Or they can try the "straight talk" approach and scare you even worse than you already are.

Or they can do what the FDIC did and hire scary blond Suze Orman. Which is the worst option of all. [NYT]

As you have probably gathered by now, your Uncle Grambo was fortunate enough to be one of the lucky 250 or so people who got to watch this weekend's episode of SNL (host: Shia LaBeouf, musical guest: My Morning Jacket) from the friendly confines of Studio 8H at Rockefeller Center. A full run-down of the evening follows after the jump.

We arrived in the building around 10:15pm, just about 75 minutes before the show officially commences. As you walk in the lobby of 30 Rock, there are dozens (if not hundreds) of people lined up behind velvet ropes along the walls, many of whom look as if they have spent the majority of the day waiting in line for tickets. Fortunately, thanks to the good graces of the NBC PR department, we were able to walk straight in, save for a short conversation with the keepers of the magical guest list. Let me tell you, it was quite hilarious watching a slew of people approach these staffers and attempt to namedrop their way into the show (our favorite attempt was when one young blonde lass tried to use the "My brother is a lawyer at NBC" line). As we waited our turn to go up the elevators up to Studio 8H, we found ourselves standing next to one Suze Orman, whose teeth are even more blazingly white when you see them up close and personal (little did we know at the time, but SNL MVP Kristen Wiig would do an amazing impression of her later in the show).

Our press escort popped out of the elevator bank at approximately 10:40pm and scooted us upstairs. As you walk from the elevator bank to the studio, you stroll down a long hallway that is lined with framed photographs of the litany of SNL cast members who once populated these very same halls. Seeing the faces of Bill Murray, Chevy Chase, Mike Myers, Gilda Radner and Eddie Murphy, you can't help but feel like you are small part of a grand tradition of comedic greatness. As you make your way closer and closer to the stage, you encounter various levels of security. If memory serves, we had to show three different sets of security/PR people along the way. And while we were handed both wristbands and tickets when we walked in, the most important credential we had all evening was, surprisingly, the envelope that the tickets came in. As for why, not sure we'll ever know.

After a few minutes of waiting around (perhaps the ushers were cleaning up the popcorn from the aisles?), we were taken to our seats just after 11pm. We sat in the back row of the studio, which was actually the fourth row of what I'll affectionately call the "upper deck" (meaning, not the swivel chairs you see on the floor while watching the show). We were directly in line with the main stage where Shia LaBeouf would deliver his monologue some forty minutes later.

We sat next to an affable hippie and his son, the elder of whom explained to us that he worked on a number on the "fake commercials" that SNL has shot over the years. But just when I was about to ask him if he was present for the filming of the legendary Schmitt's Gay spot, I noticed that Claire Danes, of all people, was walking down the aisle towards me. She was accompanied by her slight of stature BF, Hugh Dancy, and another friend was not famous. She looked far skinnier than I remembered her from her last on-screen role, Stardust, and her hair looked exceedingly thin. That said, there is no denying that she is straight up gorge. After all, it's not everyday you look Angela Chase right in the eyes.

As my heart rate returned to normal, my attention shifted to the flurry of activity down below our seats on the set. As Lenny Pickett and the Saturday Night Live Band warmed up the crowd with a number of R&B standards, stagehands were running around putting last minute touches on the various set decorations. Occasionally, the venerable Lorne Michaels would pop his head out, look around, and duck back beneath the set (presumably to tweak the skits from the dress rehears performance). With approximately 10 minutes left before showtime, Don Pardo wandered out onto center stage to begin warming the crowd up. He was quickly followed by Jason Sudeikis, who explained the rules of the road to the audience ("Be sure to laugh your asses off!") and cracked a few jokes, all the while wearing orange-accented hi-tops and Kansas Jayhawks basketball shorts.

Then, in a totally unexpected turn of events, Kristen Wiig and Fred Armisen joined the band for a rousing performance of Blondie's "One Way Or Another." Wiig played the part of Deborah Harry amazingly well; not only was her voice crackin', but she had the Harry hip sway down pat. Meanwhile, Fred Armisen turned in a very serviceable Chris Stein impression, shredding on the electric guitar in such an impressive fashion that I almost forgot he used to be a drummer and not a guitarist. As soon as the song wrapped up, the house lights began to dim.

As the stagehands rolled a faux presidential backdrop onto the main stage and turned on a lamp that was sitting next to a formal chair, Amy Poehler emerged dressed as Hillary Clinton for the evening's cold open (I would later learn that the audience at the dress rehearsal saw a different cold open, one that took place at DNC headquarters). As she quickly reviewed the cue cards, Lorne Michaels approached her and knelt down to give her a quick and quiet pep talk. This was my favorite moment of the evening; although Lorne has a bit of a rep for being enigmatic when it comes to his relationships with the cast members, there was something in his body language and the way that he approached Poehler that radiated a very fatherly and caring vibe. It was something you would never see on television, but somehow, it spoke volumes about how close-knit the SNL family truly is.

And from there, the rest of the show was, at least for me, a blur. If I were to note one thing about seeing the show live and in person that you don't see when you watch on TV, it would be how frenetically paced things are on-set. The very second the red light goes off on a camera, crew members are tearing down sets and physically grabbing cast members. In particular, after Shia LaBeouf's monologue, a woman came bounding at him from off-stage and literally TORE the suit coat off his back as she pushed him backstage for a costume change (he appeared as a Doug Henning-esque magician about 45 seconds later in a slightly puzzling "Match Game" spoof). Despite the hectic pace,there was never a moment where the set even approached chaos (controlled or otherwise); rather, all of the on-stage hustle seemed to radiate a thoroughly professional vibe.

It's also worth noting that, despite the frenetic pace, we saw nary a frown or disgruntled look on any of the cast or crew members' faces. Instead, smiles abounded everywhere you looked during the commercial breaks. If the performers were tired or stressed out, they certainly didn't show it.

There was one other interesting factoid from the evening that stood out. In the sketch where Bill Hader plays Vinnie Vedecci, the Italian talk show host with a penchant for smoking multiple cigarettes during the course of his celebrity interviews, one crew member drew the assignment of smoking the cigarettes that he would hand to Bill Hader in-between shots. He seemed to relish this job, as he chain-smoked his way through half of four cigarettes during the course of the sketch. Also, throughout this entire bit, both Fred Armisen and Will Forte sat on the side of the stage, where the camera would occasionally cut to them. As a part of the skit, they were both eating a bowl of spaghetti. Whereas Fred Armisen mostly twirled the spaghetti around with his fork, Will Forte ate almost the entire portion of pasta that was sitting in front of him during the course of the sketch. Looks like someone skipped their dinner!

The skit we chose to bring you above was the last sketch of the evening. Although both Kristen Wiig and Kenan Thompson were the evening's stand-out performers, it was Amy Poehler's performance as a mom who wanted to ensure her children were dressed as "New York Funky" as possible that made us (and the rest of the audience) laugh the hardest.

Then, just as quickly as it began, the 90-minute show came to a close. After watching Shia wish everyone a happy Mother's Day, we walked out into the lobby, where we noticed a VERY gorgeous (and sober looking) Tatum O'Neal holding court with a few friends and cast members. We debated going up to her to say hello, but instead decided to make our way to the elevators. We met up with a few friends who just so happened to be at the taping, too, and headed off into the night, feeling exhilarated after what could only be described as a truly special evening. Regardless of what you think of the show, after witnessing everything that goes down in between skits and commercial breaks up close and in person, there is no denying that the people who put SNL together are some of the hardest working people in television.

Be sure to tune in next week for the Season Finale of the Saturday Night Live's 33rd season. The host is Steve Carell and the musical guest will be Usher.

Lorne Michaels (#58) not only ranked higher than stoner comedy overlord Judd Apatow (#61), but he also got a better writer to script his defense: his darling protege Tina Fey, rather than smushy-faced Garry Shandling, who begins his piece on Judd by saying, "I know Judd Apatow. And I know myself. And I am no Judd Apatow." Yes, Garry, we knew that already. Where've you been by the way? We kind of miss you. But as we said, we do take issue with several rankings. For example, Miley Cyrus (#59) beat out the Coen brothers (#62). While Cyrus and her Hannah Montana franchise may have generated billions of dollars, the Coens not only won four Oscars for adapting a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel and created one of the most chilling villains in cinematic history, but No Country For Old Men happened to rake in more cash at the box office ($74mm) than Miley's 3-D concert flick ($65mm). Does a newbie shilling pop songs for Disney really deserve a higher ranking than a pair of filmmakers who've earned mounds of respect for their art? Truth be told, we'd have no issue with Miley beating out the Coens had this list been established post-Topless Scandal. Apparently nude 15 year-olds "influence" the masses like crazy.

[Photo credits: Time]

• COMPLETE LIST: THE TIME 100 [Time]

Like that other Solomon, Deborah has stood in our culture as a reassuring force of something like integrity—with her, you know she's in the tank for no man. She's been a beacon of decisioning and conviction while the rest of her colleagues indulge in the journalism of mild-mannered docility. Lately, we've been noticing a little slack in her rope, some resignation creeping into her once unforgiving demeanor.

Consider today's column, in which Solomon gets Suze Orman to admit she is a gay. The two of them even get into something of an argument about their personal finances when Orman accuses Solomon of having a girly relationship with money. "You put yourself on sale," Orman says. "You have shame, and you have blame." Solomon shoots back, "Is this what feminism has bestowed upon women? The right to berate other women?"

It's a compelling exchange, and at first the interview seems to be a testament to that famous Solomon fury. But read closely: Solomon didn't start this fight—Orman did. In fact, Solomon stays on the defensive the whole time, practically pouting as Orman unceremoniously lays into her for not having a living revocable trust.

Sure enough, a look back at Solomon's other recent interviews suggests that to a great extent, the beast has lost her claws. What did she do, for instance, when she had presidential hopeful Bill Richardson in the hot-seat? She playfully "confronted" him about his speeding ticket problem. And what was the meanest thing she could think to say to Chuck Schumer? That she thought the fictional couple he invented for his new book lacked "the artistry of fiction." The rest of the time, it was all "regardless of how your book is received, you made history in November..." and "Do you think [Cheney] will remain as large an influence inside the White House in the wake of the Republican drubbing?" Softballs all the way around, in other words—questions so gentle that a baby could take them with a smile.

What is happening to Deborah Solomon? Is she falling victim to that famous rapper problem, where the debut is gritty and the second one's not because life got nice? Or is it something else—perhaps a catastrophe in the home, an editor's intervention, or a deliberate change in her journalistic philosophy? We're concerned.

Also, do the NYT.com copy editors get weekends off? Mmm, two typos in one browser title bar!

'NYT' Sunday Preview [E&P]