Today the La Times reported on Oscar-winning "Pulp Fiction" screenwriter Roger Avary, who is apparently tweeting his way through a year's incarceration for vehicular manslaughter. The main proof that Avary is behind the account: a tweet from sci-fi author Neil Gaiman which reads "My friend @AVARY is tweeting from the inside. It's riveting, horrible strange..." Avary's tweets are indeed all three of these things:

On prison food:

On past-times:

On other kinds of past-times:

Of course you are all familiar with Kari Farrell AKA "The Hipster Grifter", who here tweets about her efforts at becoming the next Eldridge Cleaver:

Kari's not the only tweeting inmate with a literary bent. There's also Prodigy, one half of the 90s hip hop duo Mobb Deep (Prodigy is currently serving 3 1/2 years for firearms offenses):

But don't think all locked up tweeters are common criminals. Some of them are trying to, like, save the trees, man. Like this Rainforest Action Network tweeter who updated after being arrested for illegally hanging a protest banner on a Niagra Falls bridge:

But watch out: Police know how to use Twitter, too!

Some of these hardened twiminals (?) are in prison not for violating state or federal laws, but because they are journalists doing a story, like NPR's Laura Sullivan. Journalists love prisons almost as much as they love Twitter:

And other twitmates (!?) are obviously fake. ("Phil Spector" was the most recent twimposter tweeting from the Twig Twouse.) But we can pretend!

Rapper Daddy Bawsten was positively tickled by his tweet-inducing arrest:

Finally,here is a twitcarcerated (!!!) man named Inv8r who you know really is in jail, since he includes a picture with his tweet:

Trending Topics: #freeinv8r

So, like, you might assume that interviewer Hank Plante would ask about this mysterious absense from all his official events, and his unannounced, Mark Sanford-style trip to Hawaii. But Newsom just wants to grin and laugh the soulless laugh of a cornered Scientologist, and talk about the budget deficit. It is a terrible, terrible interview, with the rictus smile and the mirthless laughter. And it ends with Newsom removing his mic and bitching, off the record, about how mean it is of journalists to ask what the hell is up with him.

And then the Wall Street Journal reported that Newsom was going to quit politics and go back to his winery. Newsom called the reporter to deny it, but there's no way in hell this guy's remaining in office until 2012.

More than turkey, pumpkin pie, and football games, Thanksgiving is about horrible family interactions, cooking catastrophes, and cringe-inducing nightmare scenarios that involve your siblings misbehaving and thrown-up cranberry sauce. We know that yours are going to be way better than this mildly awkward prayer from Home for the Holidays, and we just can't wait to hear them.

Whoever shares the worst story wins a either a check for $50 or a bottle of Wild Turkey (we're talking one of their top-shelf brands) (U.S. residents and over 21 only for the booze, Standard Contest Rules apply). After all the drama around the turkey, you're going to need it.

To enter, put your stories in the comments section (if you're not already a commenter, find out how here). We'll be compiling and sharing the best of them throughout the week. The winner will be decided on Friday, so that you can let us rub some salt in the fresh wounds from another year sitting at the kid's table. Good luck, and save us a slice of the white meat.

[Image is from Life.com's photo gallery of designer Barbara Orr Ehrhart's 1947 turkey-inspired wedding.]

According to Guest of a Guest Tinsley hosted the tea party for Serena and 15 of her littlest pals at the Samantha Thavasa store on Madison Avenue. There wasn't any pin the tail on the donkey at this party. Instead there was some makeovers by a Christian Dior makeup artist, and styling consultations with the Tinz herself. These littlest girls know how to shop!

Just how did Serena Bancroft land such a stellar host for her little bash? Well, she is the daughter of socialite Debbie Bancroft and her banker husband Billy, so that probably helped. As GoaG points out, La Tinz probably wants to get in good with these little rich things now, so that in 10 years she'll still be getting invites to the hot parties. Ms. Mortimer is the face of Japanese handbag maker Samantha Thavasa (and designs several bags for the fashion house each year) so she definitely has a financial interest in bringing attention to the brand, especially among the junior Junior League set.

Since 13-year-old girls (and gays) are CWs target demographic, maybe this is her way of cozying up to an audience she is going to need to be a ratings blockbuster come January. Throw in an appearance guest bartending with Anderson Cooper's boyfriend at gay bar Eastern Bloc and she'll have her base shored up just in time for the premiere.

This might be a make good to Debbie Bancroft, who used to be the muse of polite society's favorite designer Douglas Hannant, until they had beef in 2005, when Hannant chose Tinsley to be his new public face. Burn. Before her reality show airs, Tinsley has to make all the allies she can or else she won't be able to show her face in Southampton ever again. Serving up cupcakes to a bunch of fashion-conscious teens isn't such a bad price to pay.

[Image via Guest of a Guest]

On her show today, Martha Stewart apologized for remarks she made against her fellow daytime cooking queen during a recent Nightline segment.

I just want to take this opportunity just to address some comments that are circulating on the Internet regarding me and Rachael Ray. And just for the record there are no bad feeling between us nor have there ever been. I truly believe that Rachael has done a terrific job bringing people, many people who would of never of even stepped into the kitchen or made a dish to cook. I applaud Rachel for her enthusiastic approach to cooking and I really had a great time being a guest on her show and it was a lot of fun to have her on this show making pie with me to. Come on back Rachael, anytime you want and I hope you have a Yum-o Thanksgiving."

God, Martha. Where is the vitriol? Where is the cattiness? We don't want to see you being sweet and contrite—we want to see the fangs!

Anyway, this whole thing started when Martha said that Rachael Ray rewrites recipes from her old books and magazines for her new books, and said this isn't "good enough for me." She continued, "[Ray is] more of an entertainer, with her bubbly personality, than she is a teacher like me."

Ray pretty much agreed with her, making the whole spat a non-started. She told Cynthia McFadden in the same segment that Martha's claims are "true" and that she would "rather eat Martha's [meal] than mine." Way to make us like you by being honest, Rachael. We hate that.

Maybe the reason Martha wanted to sweep this whole thing under the carpet with an apology is because she engages in the same re-editing technique that she accused Ray of. A former editor in the Martha Stewart empire told us that a number of recipes from Stewart's recent books are reedited versions of things that appeared in her magazines, often only with new names and photographs. People in glass houses, no matter how finely appointed, shouldn't be throwing stones. Good thing for Martha that Rachael is way too much of a lady to go toe-to-toe with her in the jail yard.

George W. Bush's last Thanksgiving proclamation actually mentioned Pilgrims! But—no Indians.

In that proclamation, it was, indeed, the Author of Life (Almighty God) who was personally responsible for "granting" the Pilgrims "safe passage to this abundant land and protecting them through a bitter winter." Thanks, God, though our first Muslim Atheist Kenyan president remembers it a bit differently:

We also recognize the contributions of Native Americans, who helped the early colonists survive their first harsh winter and continue to strengthen our Nation.

There were no Indians, or Native Americans, or Indigenous People, in any of Bush's proclamations. There was some 9/11 in the 2001 proclamation, obviously.

Last year President Bush encouraged "all Americans to gather together in their homes and places of worship with family, friends, and loved ones...." President Obama encourages "all the people of the United States to come together, whether in our homes, places of worship, community centers, or any place where family, friends and neighbors may gather...." (Emphasis added—by ACORN!)

But! Obama was not the first to rep for being thankful in places other than home and church! Clinton also encouraged Americans to gather at home, at places of worship, or at community centers. And so did Bush! In 2001, 2002, and 2003. It was not until 2004 that Americans were no longer encouraged to gather in these community centers. This is presumably because of John Kerry. (Clinton also referenced those Natives who disappeared from Bush's proclamations.)

Clinton never made reference to Lincoln, and Washington only showed up once. Bush Sr. made one Lincoln reference. Reagan, plenty. On the whole, Bush I's proclamations were a little more ambitious, and a little less rote. They included primary sources and historical arcana!

Truthfully, this is an uninspiring first effort from our most literary president in a generation. Barely an improvement over Bush Jr. Let's hope he spends a little more time on it next year.

[Photo: AFP]

1. Andrea Peyser confronts the mom of a 16 year-old shooting suspect about why she is such a bad mom that her kid would shoot somebody. Answer: Because she is selfish and she lets her son hang out with his relatives thugs. Black people! Why can't they raise kids the right way? "There do exist real fathers. Take Federico Grullon. He won't allow his three kids to leave the house."
Black kids should be shackled at all times.

2. Did you know there is a soup kitchen now for orothodox Jews? And other Jews are facing foreclosure? But Jews are the ones with all the money!

So — shhh! — The United Jewish Appeal has started Connect to Care, which already has given more than 8,000 needy Jews financial services, job help and mental-health counseling to get through unfamiliar territory.
Just don't expect anyone to admit it.

3. "If Johnny Depp is the Sexiest Man Alive, I'm swearing off men." That one wasn't totally unexpected.

Lambert performed new single For Your Entertainment at last night's American Music Awards. He begins with a Starlight Express-ish croon-a-thon, then grabs a woman by the foot and kicks her in the crotch at 0:43, which is officially the closest Adam Lambert has ever gotten to a vagina. Then he whips a leather daddy who walks on a leash on all fours, and pulls another one into a face fuck at 1:00, which is pretty gay, but I once heard that in some countries the tops aren't even considered gay, really, just opportunists. Lambert's act reminds me of Justin Timberlake ripping off Janet Jackson's bra, a crude and generally thoughtless depiction of male sexual energy.

It's hard to tell whether the audience screams during the face fuck portion are with giddy joy or terror—and isn't that dichotomy just so Glambert?

On a different note: The song (minus the vocal aerobics) and staging are very Britney Spears. I have a sneaking suspicion that the goal for that one tragic VMA performance was something a little like this.

The question presents itself: What the shit do you think you're talking about, lady?

Her two big examples are the John Varvatos store at CBGBs, and the Whole Foods on the Bowery (which is the articles kicker). Great. She mentioned two places within three blocks from one another. Yeah, it sucks that CBGBs is dead, but that place sucked when it was dying and hey, at least Varvatos kept some of the original walls. It could be another Chase Bank, but, whatever.

Here's her thesis:

The problem for those who would like to see a return in New York to its edgy past is that Manhattan, as more than one New York-based blogger has claimed, is still "a gated community for the rich". The cultural critic Julian Brash has complained that under Bloomberg the citizens of New York have been turned into consumers - it is a place where everything is about what can be bought and what can be sold.

Okay, fine. Manhattan's really expensive, blah blah blah. Bankers run everything, blah blah blah. Everything in New York can be bought. And? This city was built by hyper-capitalists, it's why there's so much goddamn money here. Old hat. Certain things about New York absolutely suck and will always keep sucking worse and worse. And let's get one thing straight: people have been saying things about New York sucking for as long as New York's been around. If you read Monocle magazine, which this essay is basically ripped out of, this is like, every issue. This has long been the party line of travel press types—especially ones from abroad—for at least three years. I mean, if you really want to go back, I believe Rolling Stone called New York the Hot Dead Zone in their inaugural Hot List issue. In 1998. Saying New York is no longer edgy hasn't been edgy in forever.

The sequel to this piece is when she inevitably says that Berlin is starting to get really, really hip these days too. Pretty much anybody who went through Ellis Island and didn't stay probably had some sentiment along the lines of "this place sucks." According to the Daily News, one of our presidents basically told us to stick this city up our collective asses (look where he is, now: dead).

But—and I'm sure others have their reasons—I live here because, quite frankly (A) there's still nowhere else in America like it, and like many other people here, I have some sick/awesome compulsion that makes this grind of living here that much more attractive to me than anywhere else and (B) it's still got better stuff than everywhere else in America. Yeah, fuckin' stuff. Awesome stuff.

Now.

Can we quickly go over the reasons London—a nice city, sure—sucks compared to New York? Great:

• Your food sucks. It all tastes like ass until American chefs take two months to do better what you've spent hundreds of years sucking at.
  
  
• The service in your restaurants sucks, because you have to instruct people how to tip by putting a mandatory charge on their tab, like many other countries that do this. Which is the wrong way of doing this, which is why every server you will every have in London will probably be an asshole.
  
  
• Your theater sucks. War Horse—no, really, War Horse—is the best thing you have up right now. Anything good you have on the West End came from us. And don't bring up fucking Billy Elliot.
  
  
• Your nightlife is just stupid. Pubs close at 11, our bars don't close until four. Who goes to bed at 11? Are you serious? So you guys open up clubs that close at 2AM that have two kinds of people in them: the kind who get unceremoniously drunk and piss on everything, or the places Prince Harry goes. And who wants to go there? Also, you only play American music. You think Kings of Leon are the Second Coming of Christ. The Kings of Leon play our bar mitzvahs, goddamnit. By the way: most of those rappers you guys play on repeat (and not even the good ones...50 Cent?!) still live in New York. Our clubs and nightlife might have their issues, but they blow yours out of the water. You guys wouldn't know what to do with The Beatrice Inn if it crawled up your nose in a $100 bill.
  
  
• Nobody knows where anything is in London. Seriously. It's like the worst parts of the West Village for an entire city. Everything is higgly-piggly or whatever dumb word you have for it. We live on a grid. A grid. You guys have the dumbest civic planning this side of kids eating Legos.
  
  
• OH. Don't get me wrong. Our subways suck, for sure. But at least they're supposed to work after midnight, and don't cost half our income to ride. Also, an Oystercard? That just sounds stupid. Who's running your design schemes, Lewis Carroll? Stupid. Oh, and, you wanna talk about EDGY? How about our D-Trains getting stabby again, edgy? Exactly.
  
  
• You guys have never had a nice day of weather in the history of the universe. Seriously. The only person Madonna has to compete with for causing a scene is the fucking sun. It's yellow, it's in the sky, sometimes, it...nevermind. Have you even been here in September? It's like Central Park is trying to get in your pants and get you off, the weather's so goddamned nice.
  
  
• Oh, and the pound is stupid-expensive. Like everything else in your city.
  
  
• Your tabloid newspapers make the New York Post look like The Paris Review.
  
  
• And Whole Foods on the Bowery, sure, Whole Foods sucks. But it's in a pretty great location, and, fuck that, you know what sucks worse? Sainsbury's. Sainsbury's suuuuuuuucks. Which goes back to your food sucking.
  
  
• Do you have Brooklyn? Do you even know what a Brooklyn is? No, not David Beckham's son. You're stupid, shut up. [Quiet Moment: The article didn't mention Brooklyn once, but didn't refer to Manhattan exclusively. Go figure.]
  
  
• London's celebrities are all on Big Brother and fucking suck. They're mouthbreathing idiots. They make Tinsley Mortimer look like Jackie Kennedy.
  
  
• You guys have soccer—yeah, I called it soccer, goddamnit—teams. Multiple ones. Great. We have two baseball teams (including the 2009 World Series Champions), football teams (Including the 2008 Super Bowl Champions), hockey teams (I'm sure they Won Something Great recently), and a basketball team. All of them except for the Knicks could smash every London soccer player. Nothing else, just "smash" them.
  
  
• There is one—and only one—good song about Foggy London Town. There are as many songs about New York as there are New Yorkers, and most of them are awesome.

Anything else? Oh, yeah, did Samuel Motherfucking Jackson just buy an apartment next to your boss? No? Exactly.

Shut up. New York is awesome.

It was a clear black night, a big first date

Walter G was in the sheets, tryna consummate

His skirt for the eve, but she left in a huff

Rollin on his side, chillin all alone.

He hit the East Side, up to old Club D's

on a Mission tryna find Mrs. Walter G

Seen a group full of girls, pals from Trinity

All those skirts knew what up with IBD.

Oh, sorry about that! You caught me right in the middle of working on a toast for an old pal from tennis camp who is getting married soon. I thought in lieu of a graceful anecdote about the fun we shared at Windridge back in the late 80's I'd call him out via "verse" about the night he first roofied his fiance.

Because did you know that there is "a growing collection" of wedding toasts that are "sung, or even rapped"? It's true: an editor at Brides.com used to hear about this five times a year, and now it's three to five times a month! It's all the fault of YouTube, or the fact that we were "raised on" Family Guy, even though Family Guy first aired in 1999 and so anyone who was "raised" on it is currently like 14 years old.

But I digress. I'm more worried about the woman whose friend decided to base her toast on "'Eleanor Rigby' by the Beatles because that is her favorite song." Yeah, she changed the words, but do you really want people on your wedding day reminded of something whose original lyrics include phrases like "all the lonely people", "buried along with her name", and "no one was saved"?

Anyway, I'm just amped because I don't have to change the …getting' high like every day lyric for my friend's toast! This is going to be great. I can't wait to be a YouTube sensation.

***

One thing is for sure: the wedding of Bess Rattray and Paul Gartside should be soundtracked by a choral arrangement of Cape Breton Lullaby (anyone else have to sing that song in seventh grade chorus?) This wedding announcement is interesting beause it somehow miraculously manages to combine East Hampton, sailing, and Vogue magazine in a not-annoying way.

Rattray, a "freelance magazine editor in Shelburne, Nova Scotia" and the scionne of the East Hampton Star publishing family that is "one of the oldest in East Hampton and includes several generations of whalers" was taking a sailing class in Maine while there to write an article for Vogue. Everything about that last sentence makes you jealous, admit it! Looking to find someone to chaperone her on a sailboat, she found "laconic Welshman" Paul Gartside, a naval architect who was teaching a class on boat design.

Several days later, after Gartside invited Rattray to join him in a regatta, they parted ways and he returned to Vancouver Island. But seriously, fuck you youngs and your sexting: you're not going to seal the deal unless you actually seal an envelope:

Neither believed their interaction was more than a brief flirtation, but after returning home they each received a note from the other expressing great pleasure in their meeting.

The notes crossed paths in the mail, and three months later it was Mr. Gartside who crossed the continent as he embarked on a different kind of voyage.

How baller is that? They got married in Nevis. They really don't make freelance writers the way they used to. And last year they adopted an Ethiopian baby. Someone needs to acquire the film rights to these people. I'm seeing Meryl, or maybe Emma Thompson, I'm seeing John Slattery in a fisherman's sweater …

Mia Feldbaum and Mark McGoldrick also met over water sports, only in this case it was a canoe trip in the Yukon territory and one of them was paralyzed from the waist down.

The "combustible fuel of alcohol, drugs, and trouble" of McGoldrick's adolescence left him paralyzed (there's a copy editing error in the lede of the Times piece, see if you can spot it) but also inspired him to travel the world and graduate cum laude from Harvard Law. The pair met when Mia was leading the 800-mile canoe trip — "Mark and Mia met tough," remarked Mia's father. "They had grizzlies, floods, mud, big snags in the river."

The couple survived all those things, and also survived this small bit of creepinees:

When the canoe trip ended, the group boarded a van headed to Edmonton, Alberta, where Mr. McGoldrick would depart.

"She's driving through the night and everyone else behind us is sleeping," he recalled. "I was reciting poetry to her, very softly."

Unclear on whether it was the poetry of a wedding toast RAP.

Moving on, guess how old this woman is!

Freaking SIXTY. I mean, not bad, right!? I want what she's having, even if what she's having is minimally invasive.

That's Susan Mendik, who is really short and loves golf and one time she got stuck in Palm Beach, where she winters, on Valentine's Day in a snowstorm and she ended up meeting up with Moe Tarkinow, whom she had been fixed up with previously, and the proposal story kind of confuses me because I guess he had custom chopsticks printed up with with the name Suzy Tarkinow on them and gave them to her during her 60th birthday dinner and "the whole place erupted" but then she mentions that the next morning after she thought about it "I knew it was the right time and the right man" but does that mean she actually said "Let me think about it" at the time in front of the erupting room? Because if so, imagine how the servers must have felt!

Elsewhere this weekend, a bride named Rainbow would have a nondenominational wedding; the "founder of PhemPhat Productions, an entertainment company in Toronto that promotes women in hip-hop and produces the annual Honey Jam concert" must really have gotten all the good wedding toasts; I know it's traditional but I still think it's awkward for just the bride to pose for a picture; this man, as far as I can tell, loitered at college bars looking for younger women … and it worked!; this mother of the bride is named Phyllis Meller and she is a wedding planner - email me, Phyllis, so I can interview you!; and this bride is an aggregate composite sketch of what every dietician I have ever met looks like.

Oh, and I'm not going to watch the video this week, although I do admit that the teaser in the print section of the paper telling me that "Mr. Buxton later proposed over a rigged game of Boggle."

This week's matchup:

Emily Theriault and Luca Laino

• The couple were married at The Racquet and Tennis Club in New York, a fancy club where old men swim and then pad down the hallways totally in the nude: +2
• The couple met at Dartmouth where they both received MBAs: +7
• Both are investment bankers: +2
• The bride is a VP and the groom is an associate: -1
• The groom's father is an opthalmology professor at Cornell medical school: +1
• The groom went to Camp Trin Trin: +1

TOTAL: 12

Helen Bailey and Farhad Manjoo

The bride graduated magna cum laude from Yale and received a medical degree at UC-Davis: +7
The groom graduated from Cornell: +3
The groom writes about Facebook and Kindles and Y2K for Slate (his advice on blogging: "Don't expect instant fame" and "Don't worry if your posts suck a little". Duly noted!): +2
I am a Slate fangirl: +1
The bride's father is a senior Lockheed Martin engineer: +2
They both wear power-nerd glasses: +2

TOTAL: 17. I just want to know what password Manjoo uses for his registry.

It's fine for someone to be quirky, and John Mayer certainly seems to be better than your average pop star, and/or prettyboy singer-songwriter. There's no reason for him to be giving rapey interview quotes.

You know that scene in Bull Durham, where Kevin Costner is coaching Tim Robbins on what to say to the press? This is it:

Exactly.

Stick to the press lines, John Mayer. Or at least don't come off as rapey. And the thing is, it's not like he even has to come off as rapey.

Fact: He is smart! Blues guitarists are notoriously sharp people. He can play mean blues guitar. Which takes brains and talent. When he isn't making his rapey guitarface.

Fact: He has done funny things that aren't rapey before. Like walking around in a bear suit before his shows screwing with his fans. Or riffing with Dave Chappelle.

Now, remember when he told New York Magazine that he'd basically rape Jada Yuan (or Mark Graham)?

....the next record will have that concept.

What concept?
More political things, worldly things.

Such as?
Nothing rhymed with public option.

You don't always have to rhyme, though.
I'm going to forcefully sodomize your editor.

Ha ha, so funny, except there's truth in every joke, John Mayer. We'll excuse it because if you have a good sense of humor and forget that there's truth in every joke, John Mayer, it can be pretty goddamn funny.

Now, a few weeks later, and John gets profiled by New York Times pop music writer Jon Caramanica, who is the man and writes great stuff. So you should know not to be a pervy-sounding maybe-anal-rapist when Jon Caramanica is interviewing you, John Mayer, and get on your game, and try to be taken relatively seriously, because you could get a very, very great piece of press in a big publication by a talented pop music writer, right?

Caramanica's lede, in a piece called, John Mayer Just Has to Please the Girls:

"I should be having sex with more girls." This is what John Mayer concluded, using slightly more colorful language, last Sunday night at his anonymously modern apartment in SoHo.

Okay, so,
lives in a sparse modernist apartment,
makes jokes about anal rape (or "forcible sodomy"),
thinks he should be having sex with more women,
is a famous rock star.

Oh, and this:

"It's crazy to me that in my head, that being 32 and dating women is going to get me in trouble," he said, talking faster as he went along. "I can't even explain to you how terrible that feels, that I equate dating a woman with punishment, shame, guilt, disappointment, reproach, reprimand, persecution. It's a nightmare."

Who has these issues? John Mayer has shame about dating women and getting in trouble? No. Fucking no! Telling young, female New York reporters you're going to anally rape their editors will get you in *trouble! From where does your "shame" come from John Mayer? HM?! Are you hiding something?!

Hopefully, John Mayer is not Patrick Bateman.

That said, Caramanica's piece ends like so. You be the judge:

At the encore, though, he let the public invade the private. "They say I'm a womanizer," he complained. "I say I haven't met enough women." The crowd cheered. Shrieked, really. Maybe things weren't so bad after all. "Cute girl," Mr. Mayer said, pointing into the sea of eager faces. "Cute girl. Cute girl. Kuh-yoot girl."

*John Mayer is welcome to tell me he will forcibly rape my editors, since all seven of them are all older men, and I see the humor in that. All seven of them.
**There is maybe truth in every joke, John Mayer.

Not exaggerating. Martha Stewart got asked by CNN why Sarah Palin's polarizing. Martha calls her "boring," "confused," "a dangerous person," and a "real problem." The best is when Martha throws down on a patronizing "good for her" when told about her book sales and then, after, "I wouldn't watch her if you pay me." SHOTS FIRED!

And then there's this wonderful clip. Palin dipped out of a signing early, and got booed by her fans, who were pissed that they didn't get their books signed. It goes without saying that Palin's fans sound just as patently insane hating her as they do loving her, but hey, you can't put lipstick on an neglectful idol, or whatever. Or you can, but, she's still gonna stiff you for a book signature.

This sounds like the worst book tour ever.

...As opposed to former New York Times $25 and Under food writer Peter Meehan and Momofuku Cookbook chef David Chang's book tour. Which goes something like this:

WHY was somebody calling me? Didn't they know I was still DRUNK from the night before? It was 5:00 a.m. Tosi explained to me what was going on. I had to get to Ssam Bar to pick up her and Gabe, a cook who'd be coming down to help us, and head to LGA. I was fucked up. Tosi wanted to kill me. I was literally falling over in a drunken stupor like Dudley Moore in Arthur. My life had two-day hangover written all over it. Arrive at airport at 5:50 for a 6:30 am flight and magically got on. For some reason, the flight got delayed for four hours... but it was all news to me: I pilled myself out, so I came to on the runway in Memphis.

See, Sarah Palin! If you're gonna do the book tour of a dangerous person who doesn't give a shit about pissing people off, there's a right way, and a wrong way. As far as signing books goes, if you ever need help, don't be afraid to ask. We might know a thing or two about it to help you on your way.

[Photo by Shealah Craighead, via the Going Rogue Facebook Group.]

So: we got teased yesterday and this morning with two great pieces on Glenn Beck talking in his strange, voodoo-esque language on whatever way he plans to molest and exploit the minds of whoever will lend him an open ear to aim his ideological piss into. The first was the aforementioned Politico note, which quoted Beck teasing his big ideas on his show. But this was fun! Remember that scary 9/12 Project that was presumed to have gone away because only crazy people listened to crazy people and hey, there can't be that many crazy people who are that organized. We call those cults, and there are lots of them, sure. But they don't represent any kind of frightening majority. Because crazy people need crazy leaders with power and a platform and there aren't really any of those out there as completely insane as the 9/12ers are, right?

Christine Drawdy, a Florida event promoter involved in the tea party and 9/12 movements who is listed as the travel coordinator for the 2010 march, said the permit for the march is in the name of The 9.12 Project's administrator, Yvonne Donnelly. Though Drawdy stressed that Beck "is not the leader of" the 912 movement, she added "all he has to do is say something, and they'll jump."

And by 'jump,' she means, kill people.

Brian Stetler at the New York Times also talked to Beck before today. Stetler's a sizable dude, not someone I imagine can be easily intimidated, nice as he is. Really, he could probably bounce a guy Glenn Beck's size easily.

That said, I imagine he'll be sleeping in the fetal position tonight:

"We'll be looking for ways to get people involved in politics," [Beck] said. "I hear people saying, ‘O.K., now what?' They're calling their representative, but it's time to get more proactive."

Right. So. What was Beck's big plan? He unveiled it today, starting with his website, which is the image you see at the top of this post. One more thing before we get there, though. This video, taken at a Borders yesterday, of Beck teasing out The Plan.

"We're gonna be asking of you some big things." Funny, I've been told the same thing by my bosses, but the first thought that went through my head never involved any kind of civil war and/or revolution.

But hey, Beck: he's just passionate! No way could this entire rollout involve the guy cashing in.

No way could all of this buzz, this entire thing, all of this talk about "community organizing"—taking The Dirty Word of President Barack Obama's past and platform, and putting it to their own new, awesome, terrible uses—no way could Beck be leading his flock into spending some cash.

Funny, then, that they found out that The Plan was for them to spend more money on Glenn Beck, The Brand. Observe his two key points from the manifesto written on his website:

- I have begun meeting with some of the best minds in the country that believe in limited government, maximum freedom and the values of our Founders. I am developing a 100 year plan. I know that the bipartisan corruption in Washington that has brought us to this brink and it will not be defeated easily. It will require unconventional thinking and a radical plan to restore our nation to the maximum freedoms we were supposed to have been protecting, using only the battlefield of ideas.

- All of the above will culminate in The Plan, a book that will provide specific policies, principles and, most importantly, action steps that each of us can take to play a role in this Refounding.

Kinda sounds like a cross between Avon and the Left Behind series, right? Except with scarier salespeople who have drier hands.

Yeah, Glenn Beck's got a plan: for the next 100 years, he's gonna keep writing books and making TV shows, and his fans are going to keep buying into both of them. It's kind of genius. His entire multimedia empire is predicated on one, long, 100-year plot arc: that the main character will make viewers'/listeners'/readers' lives better so long as they're with him every step of the way. The man will make references to revolution, to change, to bringing everything back to a fundamental state. The beautiful irony he has to see and embrace—in order for this to have worked as long as it has—is that the only real movement he'll be making is into better cars and larger houses. The kinds that are far away from the rabid zombies who salivate at every vague allusion to blood and violence Mama Bird spits out like discarded pieces of chewing gum for them to suck every last grain of sweet flavor out of. The kind, if provoked, and unleashed, are as much as a threat to anybody as they are to him. A "random act of violence" is never really that random, is it? Especially when the word "radical" gets thrown around over, and over, and over.

More than anything, this guy is a threat to the proliferation of rational thought. Beck knows that there're people in the world who listen to this kind of nonsense without processing it any way but through their emotions, because they're tired, hungry, scared, or angry, and maybe, sometimes, rightfully so. Then again, so are most of us! But when you have an asshole like Beck running the con, one thing leads to another, and shit like this happens. Believe me, nothing would bring me more joy than to watch Glenn Beck get the Downfall-meme treatment after his empire of exploitative bullshit comes crumbling down under the weight of the inevitable rise of the truth: that this man is a crook, a fraud, a shyster, and a very skilled, sophisticated con artist. But who wants it to get that far?

Glenn Beck does have one up on Hitler in terms of likability: a decent Kermit impersonation. I'm pretty sure nobody with such an affection for Muppets can possibly be capable of anything too terrible.

Then again, evil, as we're all aware, is a scary, subversive force, and comes in all forms, at all times, with little to no discretion. Beware.

[Top image via Glenn Beck's website. Bottom image via Bert Is Evil.]

Yeah. He went there.

He starts opining about how he wishes he had a different strategy—like to start in one city, as Paranormal Activity did—thus ironically echoing the same ethos of The Man Running Hollywood that he later rallies against: find the thing that just performed really, really well, and try to capitalize on its success. Which, whoops, too late.

See, but Max doesn't think he's The Man. He thinks he's The Artist. He's one of The People Who Create. And the people who fucked up his movie chance to become the next E.T. are not. No, really:

Look, here's what people who don't create don't understand, is that once you take money from the machine, the machine owns you. And I was just never ever going to let that happen.

Kinda wish I were an artist, so my art could be 'relevant,' bro. He goes on: he doesn't hate on Big Movies because he's an Indie Movie Guy, because, you know, Transformers would make a stupid indie movie, right? So he's an indie guy. And there's no way he could've sold this movie out to be funny, no way. He just didn't let it go down like this, man. He would've had to stab someone if they put Seth Rogen in his movie. Not happening, no way.

This movie, if we had sold it to [FOX] Searchlight, they would've put Seth Rogen and Dane Cook in it, and they would've cut all the f*cking balls out of the jokes, and they would've brought in some sh*t bird to rewrite the script who would've had Tucker have a girlfriend and this and that, and then it's like they own everything, they may have fired me… I would've stabbed somebody if they had done that. They would've fired me off the movie because they own it — I don't own sh*t anymore, but then I'm the one who has to live with all their creative decisions.

Creative decisions! Like where to put the balls in the movie. Spielberg had the same problem with the girl in the red coat in Schindler's List, which he originally wanted to call Nazis Are Fucked Up, Yo. When you make a Big Studio Movie, you only get so much creative control over the ball jokes, you know? Max goes on to cite another problem as the opening of the film in small cities liek Carbondale, Illinois, a memory that provokes him to rage: "They just don't know the f*cking movies!" But he saves the best for the people of Darko Entertainment, Donnie Darko director Richard Kelly's production company, who produced the movie.

Now, come on. Donnie Darko's a great movie and say what you will of Southland Tales, but at least there's more to say about it besides "it sucks," something many movies (like Tucker's) can't move past. Why, Richard Kelly, did you let this guy into your house?

Well, hopefully, lesson learned. Especially after this bullshit:

Darko [Entertainment] gave us all the creative freedom we could've ever wanted with the budget we had, but once the movie was done, they made a lot of decisions distribution-wise that I would not have made. A lot of things.

How about: your movie is poop, the original product is started out as was poop, you are poop, and if anybody ever lets you work in Hollywood again, they, too, are poop? Nope. Because Tucker's got dreams, man. Big ones:

Another book, Assholes Finish First is coming out next year and then English release [of the film] is New Year's — UK release. Those are the next two big things.

1. Because the British don't think we're doltish enough.
2. Because, lesson learned, Assholes Definitely Finish First. In the race to the bargain bin. Which is where all Tucker Max material will continue to land.

Meta. Bro.

When Dante talks about the Inner Ring of the Seventh Circle of the Inferno, I believe he was referring to something resembling the above photograph. Ughh.

So, yeah: 3,000 people show up to a Long Island mall for a signing this kid's having at an Abercrombie Kids. Madness breaks out, people have to go to the hospital, they've now pressed charges against a senior V.P. at Island-Def Jam for not Tweeting the cancellation of his appearence. Seriously.

Police arrested a senior vice president from Bieber's label, Island Def Jam Records, James A. Roppo, 44, of Hoboken, N.J., saying he hindered their crowd-control efforts by not cooperating. He was in custody Friday night, pending charges that could include criminal nuisance, endangering the welfare of a minor and obstructing government administration, Smith said. "We asked for his help in getting the crowd to go away by sending out a Twitter message," Smith said. "By not cooperating with us we feel he put lives in danger and the public at risk."

I wish cops would arrest me for not Twittering. Fantastic. Who's this kid again? He does this little song and dance:

Somehow, in this story, Usher is the Charlie to his, uh, "angelic teen dreaminess" or whatever, except why are teenage girls always crazy about teenage guys who look like girls? Maybe Zac Efron gets the exception card because he was in that Burr Steers movie with Matthew Perry, but still, like, the Carter Brothers? And they all act kinda hip hop-y [Except, again, for Efron: patterns!]. And early Justin Timberlake? And I mean, let's not even start on Hanson. The middle one? Are you kidding? Can someone please explain these things to me? Also, isn't the whole You + Me thing a bit tired? They should've really consulted MTV's in-house playbook before dropping that one.

Anyway, this kid, this 15 year-old Canadian kid, caused this scene:

Not exactly the reaction I had after the first time I saw the "You Oughta Know" video, but still, understandable on some level, right? WRONG. Because people were hurt. This is where G-12 Protests and Tiger Beat meet in the middle. I'm impressed, but also, kind of disappointed rubber bullets weren't at least threatened. Or even better: that they'd burn this entire Long Island mall's supply of Juicy Couture velour tracksuits. That would've stopped 'em dead in their tracks. Riot cops gotta pull out at least a few decent stops. Next time, call me. I know how to handle these things.

Anyway, a record exec is in jail—yay?—and a star is made, but whatever happened to the days when shit like this was all just A Hard Day's Night? He should learn, even though, apparently, the psychotic teen beasties of Long Island take a little more to be stopped than some clever hiding, in their great tradition of senseless consumer thuggery. Rage on, kids. Rage on.

Viva.

[Photo via HaveUHeard??]

Earlier: Oprah's Favorite Things 2007: The Audience Freaks Out!

1.) Martha Stewart Vs. Rachael Ray
Last night on Nightline, Cynthia McFadden tried to stir up shit between the two women.

2.) Martha Stewart Vs. Sarah Palin
But on the red carpet this week, Martha didn't need any encouragement to talk shit on Sarah.

3.) Piper Palin Child Beauty Queen
Earlier this week, I joked that Piper Palin was wearing so much makeup for Sarah's interview with Barbara Walters that she practically looked high glitz.

Later that day, Oprah's camera crew went to Wasilla to film the Palin family at home, where Piper was wearing a crown and a sash.

4.) Mother/daughter bonding

5.) The D.E.N.N.I.S. System
It's funny 'cause it's true.

6.) Crap letter from a dude
As featured on True Life: I Can't Leave My Boyfriend. The guy later came back to her apartment when she wasn't home, and stole all of her electronics and her dog.

7.) America's Next Top Amityville Horror
ANTM aired some never-before-seen moments, and I'd rather that this one had stayed unseen.

8.) Drunk idiots
The people on the Real World/Road Rules Challenge get so stupid drunk that they always end up fighting, and subsequently kicked off the show (whichseems to be their sole source of income). Brad started in with Darrell for no reason.

And then Darrell turned Brad into Quasimodo.

9.) Sewing with Nancy
Her awkwardness makes me uncomfortable.

10.) Stomache

The new $11 billion operating budget is actually just an ominous warning that in a year—or maybe a few months—the Transit Authority will once again cite the need to hike fares in order to strong arm Albany in finding a newer, more regressive way of funding operating costs.

They have basically promised it already:

In addition to the 2010 budget, the MTA released a four-year fiscal plan. It envisions 7.5% fare and toll hikes in 2011 and 2013 as the agency tries to establish a pattern of regular inflation-based increases.

There is really not so much inflation right now, in America, is there? (But who knows what the future holds!)

But, yes, it is insane that our mass transit is operated by a rotating cast of idiot millionaires with free E-Zpasses for life (and beyond!) beholden to absolutely no one, at all, operating with two sets of books, and yet we have to actually sympathize with them because the people who profit from the way an efficient mass transit system allows for the mobility of cheap labor don't think they should be forced to pony up any money to keep transit affordable. Fares are simply taxes—incredibly regressive taxes, just like the sales taxes that New York City residents suffer to fund our own transit while suburban New Yorkers bitch about the prospect of being charged to clog our streets with their cars, and Jersey dicks bemoan the tolls they have to pay to enter the city where they make all of their money while contributing nothing back.

Meanwhile, though, the MTA lies, about everything, all the time. They are saving just enough of the money from the emergency bailout earlier this year to allow them to not threaten to raise fares again for one (1) year (while fighting transit workers' promised wage increase in court). And thanks to that bailout, we only had to endure a slight fare increase with no service cuts! Except that not a single goddamn line is running on schedule anymore, ever, and that's been the case all year and it only gets worse every week.

Track and signal work must be up 1000% across the board, because there's hardly a line that isn't out of commission on the conveniently poorer or less utilizied portions of the routes these days. The F just gives up at Jay St now. The service advisories, when they are actually correctly posted, which is rarely, grow longer every weekend. If you live outside Manhattan, you better catch a train home before 11 pm, because otherwise who the fuck knows when a train will show up and where it will actually take you. Lord only knows what the hell the G train was doing last weekend, and why. Everyone, anecdotally, has noticed this. But no one has just straight-up said that these are the across the board service cuts that they promised they wouldn't need to institute once we saved them from disaster a few months ago.

It is time, now, immediately, to do a few things:

• To end the insane federal transit funding system that a) overfunds highways and b) dispenses capital project money for urban mass transit systems but forbids any federal spending on operating costs for cities of more than 200,000 people. The Reagan administration slashed mass transit funding, of course, but it was Mr. Bill Clinton who eliminated operating assistance altogether. Do you want to know about how much highway funding has increased over the same period of time? No, you don't. Real estate taxes and fares are not the proper way to fund the nation's largest subway system, especially when we will earmark federal cash for the Robert Byrd Memorial Frontage Road to the Erma Ora Byrd Conference and Learning Center and Community Swimming Pool.
• To destroy the MTA. The public authorities reform bill that just passed the Assembly is a wonderful start! But the entire board needs to be dissolved and replaced with, you know, actual subway riders, elitist technocrat transit wonks, and people with experience in government management and accounting. Civil servants, in other words.
• Everyone in Albany should be tarred and feathered. This is an important part of our prescription for any local problem.
• Also fuck Bloomberg.

Anyway! No fare increases until January 1, 2011! And some day—maybe in like 2015, when you ride the robot-operated Second Avenue line to your favorite soup kitchen—there may be those little signs that tell you when the next train is coming! This "install little signs" project is only a zillion dollars over budget (so far!).

That's right, last night during the disastrous season six finale, Lifetime announced that season seven will debut on the network the second week in January. It's a good thing too, because after this awful, rushed season, both Lifetime and Bunim/Murray, who produces the show, need to show that they can make a good season. Maybe season six was like the muslin version of a gown that a couturier makes so she can figure out what she's doing and next season will be the finished red-carpet ready product. Let's hope.

So, onto last night's finale. Irina, Althea, and Carol Hannah all showed their 13-look collections in Bryant Park during fashion week (way back in February). We actually found some things to love about it, but first:

Things We Hate:

• Crying: Everyone cried. Althea cried, Carol Hannah cried, Irina cried, Irina's parents cried, Tim Gunn cried into his handkerchief backstage that he still has three seasons left on his contract. Everyone cried except Cry-stopher, which was strange. We love drama, but all this excessive crying just makes us want to, well, weep.
• The Other Designers: We didn't even like Logan, Cry-stopher, and Gordana before they were kicked off, and we don't want to see them around again. They really had nothing to add. If the producers wanted to do something interesting, they would have brought back the first three designers kicked off. They all sucked! Imagine weeping Carol Hannah having to deal with Malvin of egg dress fame. Awesome.
• Cry-stopher's Eyebrows: While we're at it, let's talk about Cry-stopher some more, because his eyebrows were so drawn on, he looked like a third-rate drag queen doing an impersonation of Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford, but without the camp. And why, for fuck's sake, didn't he go to the L'Oreal Paris Make Up room to have them at least draw them on symmetrically.
• Fake Introductions: We all know that the final collections were filmed back in February when the show was still embroiled in about 23 different lawsuits and they were trying to keep production details a big secret. All the press accounts of the runway show mention that the designers made no appearances at all. So, what was up with the fake introductions they each gave their collection? Did they assemble a faux audience and recreate the set and film the introductions then? Or did they do it later that day, but with a cast of extras instead of the general public and a bunch of media types? And did they think that we wouldn't notice?
• Irina Invented the Smokey Eye: It really irked us when Irina accused Althea of stealing her makeup scheme for the final show. As if she just heard what Irina wanted and copied her. Oh, because smudged makeup has never been done before ever in the history of fashion or the world. You made it up, Irina! We know you think otherwise, but you are not original. You didn't invent any of the ideas you have accused Althea of stealing. And all of fashion, like most other art, is about stealing and reappropriating anyway. And this coming from a girl who stole T-shirt designs—twice!
• Heidi's Pink Outfit: It wasn't as horrible as the pink ruffle shirt and sparkly biker shorts she wore earlier in the season, but it looks—as Ms. Kors would say—very mother of the bride. Actually we think Endora wore it to a wedding once on Bewitched.
• No Celebrities: We've said this before, but part of the move to L.A. was supposed to be about getting great celebs as guests and judges. Who do they get for the finale? Suzy Menkes! Who? Exactly. Suzy is great and all (see below), but in the past we had Parker Posey, Debra Messing, Posh Spice, people who have great style and a little bit of pizazz. Suzy has the cred and would have been a great replacement for one of the two frequent absentee judges this season, but she is no finale judge. And if you're going to have another horrible year in L.A., then we want to see some serious star wattage!
• Cohesion: Making a collection of clothes that has cohesion is kind of like creating a concept album—the only people who care about it are industry types. It's not like there are women marching around who buy entire collections or want all their clothes for a season to look like they "tell a story." When everyone is downloading singles, who cares how all the songs sound together on an album? "Cohesion" is some bullshit that the fashion industrial complex cooked up and holds designers to when no one else really cares about it. The only time it looks good is in the 20 minutes when everything walks down the runway.
• No Color: Would it have killed you guys to do something other than shades of drab? Your collections all looked about as washed out as Tim Gunn after three weeks of swine flu!
• Nothing Stands Out: After watching the finale last night, I was thinking about the ghosts of finales of seasons past. Remember Jay McCarroll's multicolored tier tatter dress, Chloe Dao's sculpted satin gem-tone sheath, Daniel V's brown dress with the little embellished flap on the boobs, Santino Rice's babydolls with the breasts flying about, Laura Bennet's glamorous bedazzling, Michael Knight's mess of an urban collection, Christian Siriano's brown and white ruffled ball, Chris March's dresses made of human hair, Jillian Lewis' knits with the poodle tail sleeves, Kenley Collin's retro gowns, and Leanne Marshall's waves? Remember those? I can recall each of those collections distinctly from memory. I couldn't even describe one thing I saw last night other than Irina's stupid hats and Carol Hannah's lilac buttplug dress. That makes me sad.

Things We Loved:

• Tim Gunn Freaking Out: Finally, all the stress of the shitty season got to Grampa Gunn and he snapped. Brilliant. More about it in the videos.
• Jaslene!: Our favorite moment of every television year is when there is complete trashy fashion reality show synergy and contestants from America's Next Top Model strut the runway on Project Runway. The only one we noticed last night was the Cha-Cha Diva herself (and one of our favorite Top Models ever) Jaslene Gonzalez. One is more than enough.
• Suzy Menkes: Now we feel a little bad for picking on Suzy Menkes, the legendary fashion journalist and International Herald Tribune fashion editor. It wasn't fair to not tell us who she is and put her in front of the camera with There's Something About Mary hair and a sparkly gold coat. Of course we were going to crack jokes. We know she is a great writer and deserves all of our respect, but had no clue what she looked like. It's not fair to put her out like that without an id. Don't do that to poor Suzy Menkes. Make her look good.
• Ari Fish's Look: Remember Ari? She was the first one kicked off this season. While Nicolas was at the runway show looking like Pudgy Kurt Cobain as always and Shirina was wearing some gypsy costume from last Halloween, Ari had totally reinvented herself. She looked like a cross between Isabella Blow and Boy George playing Leigh Bowery in Taboo. Genius!
• Nina Garcia Fashion Director of Marie Claire Magazine Hate's Irina's Collection: Did you see the stink eye that NGFDMCM gave Irina on the runway last night? When she saw that everything was black she said, "We talked about that," like she was the disappointed mother of a daughter who keeps wetting the bed. Then she told Irina that black never gets any editorial coverage. Looks like someone's spread in Marie Claire magazine will be begrudging.
• Lifetime's Commercials: Lady vitamins, pregnancy tests, fat Carrie Fisher, the horrible Georgia O'Keefe Paints Vagina Flowers Lifetime movie promos, cleaning products, tampons—this is what we had to endure being hawked during the commercial breaks, and it provided some wonderfully easy targets. Thanks Lifetime. Also, you made up for it with the trailer for The 12 Men of Christmas. Kristen Chenoweth starring in a movie about making a naked calendar with hot guys? Oh yes, my gay ass will be tuning in, without any irony and a big fat smile on my face.
• Michael Kors Says "Bravo Guys": Was it an intentional dig at Lifetime by bringing up the show's old network? We don't think so, but it was a perfect bitchy end to this horrible season.

So, in the end, as we accuately predicted Irina won for her crappy black collection with ugly hats. Rather than talk about the clothes, go watch the full collections in the videos. How quickly can we forget that this season ever happened? We hope it's sometime around Sunday afternoon, because we want to get back to loving Runway.

For the last time until 2010, let's sashay and chanter our way to the videos.

Meltdown of the Week
Context: Carol Hannah is sick and trying to finish her collection and snaps under the pressure. Thankfully Cry-stopher is there for a shoulder to cry on.
Vision: That she's not going to make it through, and that Cry-stopher and his eyebrows can help her.
Delusion: Of course she'll make it. She's a can-do kid. This was the one moment of real emotion we felt all season. She may not be the greatest designer, but this is a highlight of her young life, and to have it ruined by circumstances beyond her control really sucks. We're glad she made it work.
What Would Nina Say: "Get it togther!"
Dramometer: 10

Under the Gunn
Context: All the girls are late getting their models ready and Grampa Gunn freaks out. He does it in the same way that our high school Latin teacher, Sister Nicotena of the Holy Smoke, used to, where she barely raises her voice, but manages to shame everyone into submission and make them feel like 20,000 monkeys just took a shit on their heads.
Vision: That he can get these looks ready for the runway.
Delusion: The only way to make any of these models acceptable is if Gunn goes back and redesigns every collection himself.
What Would Nina Say: "You should have screamed louder."
Dramometer: 8

Althea's Collection
Context: Here is the finished product.
Vision: The future.
Delusion: There is nothing futuristic about any of these pieces. In fact, you can buy most of them right now at Express—on the sale rack.
What Would Nina Say: "I would put that suit in my magazine. But you won't let me, because you chose another winner."
Dramometer: 0

Carol Hannah's Collection
Context: Here are here 12 disparate looks. A couple of them we actually like.
Vision: Making a bunch of really great clothes, even if they are disconnected, will win the prize. Also, lilac buttplugs.
Delusion: That these fashion types don't care about "cohesion."
What Would Nina Say: "Can we take another look at Althea's?"
Dramometer: 0

Irina Won for This
Context: The most original collection ever on the face of the earth.
Vision: Black, black, black, brown, more black, and hats. It's like armor!
Delusion: The only thing we have to guard against is our eyes ever seeing something like this ever again.
What Would Nina Say: "All black will get no editorial coverage, even though my magazine is contractually obligated to cover it."
Dramometer: 0