The short answer is probably not, but she sure will try. We speculated that her busty cover of GQ and her SNL gig were a play for career-after-Mad Men because creator Matthew Weiner wasn't bringing her back. (And given the show's relatively low salary, she'd wouldn't mind moving on.) She had an uphill struggle because many people (including plenty of our regular commenters and even her ex-boyfriend Ashton Kutcher) believe that because she plays an icy, passive character on the show that she can't act. While her cleavage did wonders for her public image, she did herself no favors with her lame stab at sketch comedy over the weekend.

Now that everyone thinks she can't act, her chances at movie star fame ruined, and Betty Draper's proximity to the central plot on the wane (if her character isn't cut entirely), what is Ms. Jones to do? Here are her options:

Indie Film: If she gets a plum role in an Oscar-bait indie and knocks the role out of the park, she could redeem herself and establish some much-needed street cred. Just look at what Precious is doing for Mo'Nique (of all people) right now.

Procedural: They must be casting for NCIS: Twin Cities or some shit like that. Actors in these jobs just need to be able to look good and deliver their lines, which we know that she can do. It's not going to win her any awards, but it will be a steady acting job and a big fat paycheck for years to come.

Girlfriend Roles: Join the Judd Apatow crew or play the remarkably attractive love interest for some schlub like Adam Sandler. If the movie hits big no one will confuse you with a Stella Adler devotee, but you'll be able to get some more jobs out of it.

Obscurity: She doesn't have to be an actress. Maybe she would be better suited as a lunch lady who mumbles to herself, "I used to be someone!" We always did see her in hair nets.

Sex Tape: This will get her tons of attention, but in terms of work, the best she can hope for is a reality project (see Hilton, Paris and Kardashian, Kim). Still it would be lots of fun to watch!

[Image via Getty]

Mayer's union with real estate investment manager Zach Bogue will take place as part of a wedding stretching from Dec. 11 - 13 at the San Francisco Four Seasons, we're told. Mayer and Bogue bring out the competitive overachievers in one another, and the event sounds like an extension of their mutual mania. Even the invitation came wrapped in a heavy red velvet box, said a tipster.

The lengthy wedding should only further Mayer's reputation for aggressive well-roundedness: She was on both the debate team and pom-pom squad in high school, and today her master's degree in computer science makes a geeky contrast to the Oscar de la Renta clothes and fashion spreads in Vogue and Glamour. In keeping with the theme, we'd expect her fairytale weddings to have some geeky twists (laser tag, anyone?). If you have any further details — or better yet, a picture — we'd love to hear from you.

UPDATE: Added location of the Four Seasons.

UPDATE: We failed to mention that Mayer lives at the SF Four Seasons, in a penthouse, as we've reported previously. So maybe she's having the wedding at home.

(Pic by JD Lasica)

It can best be described as a stunning piece of experimental metafiction. What if a rote, ghost-written political memoir by a second-place vice presidential candidate was penned by a Faulknerian unreliable narrator? It's like The Turn of the Screw, only the ghost is Steve Schmidt. Our protagonist, "Sarah Palin," deliberately withholds and exaggerates, even dropping into italicized internal monologue to signify that a real whooper's on the way.

Palin's grasp of American dialect is more S.E. Hinton than Twain, of course (while occasionally stunning in its experimental ambition, it is her first published work). But what it occasionally lacks in conversational verisimilitude ("a big darn deal"?) it usually makes up for in unexpected humor. Here she is describing the moment when "Sarah Palin" first learns that she's "pregnant" with the mysterious talisman "Trig":

Slowly a pink image materialized on the stick. Holy geez!

"Trig" inspires this delightfully batty biblical allusion:

Yes Lord, I thought. My name is Sarah, but my husband isn't Abraham. His name is Todd!

Did Todd offer Sarah to the Pharaoh and come away with rewards and riches? When Todd asked for another son, did Sarah offer him her handmaiden, Meg Stapleton? So many questions!

Every so often, the tone abruptly (and cleverly) switches to a savage parody of the pretentious poetics that the sort of person who'd attempt them would call "high-falutin.'" Kakutani highlights a winner from the first page (didn't finish before your deadline, Michiko?)

I breathed in an autumn bouquet that combined everything small-town America with rugged splashes of the Last Frontier.

Exposing the useless charade of an loser would-be Veep expounding on history and foreign policy (as if anyone cared! as if we believed they came up with their insights on their own!) Going Rogue presents a 15-year-old high school basketball team captain's thoughts on the Iran Hostage Crisis, and what it revealed about leadership:

I had followed the Iran hostage crisis and remember wondering why President Jimmy Carter didn't act more decisively. From my high schooler's perspective, I thought the question was, Why did he allow America to be humiliated and pushed around? The new president being sworn in radiated confidence and optimism. The enemies of freedom took notice. In years to come people would ask, What did he have that Carter didn't? To me the answer was obvious. He had a steel spine.

She uses the Dan Rathermism "high on the hog" and complains of being called a demeaning term for the lower classes that she wears with pride:

"My family was made to look like a herd of hillbillies who had come to the big city and started living high on the hog, and that hurt me for them."

"And that hurt me for them." Brilliant.

In this bravura passage, "Palin" complains that a fat man told her to eat well.

He then launched into a discussion of nutrition physiology, holding forth on the importance of carbohydrates to cognitive connections and blah-blah-blah. As he lectured, I took in his rotund physique and noted that he used nicotine to keep his own cognitive connections humming along.

I interrupted his lecture. "Steve, you know what I really need? Half an hour to go for a run in these beautiful cities we're visiting. Also, seeing my kids does wonders for my soul."

He barreled on as if I hadn't spoken. "Headquarters is flying in a nutritionist, and for three days you're going to be on a diet balanced in carbohydrates and nitrates and —"

I'm a forty-four year old, healthy, athletic woman raising five kids and governing a large state, I thought as his words faded into a background buzz. Sir, I really don't know you yet. But you've told me how to dress, what to say, who to talk to, a lot of people not to talk to, who my heroes are supposed to be and we're still losing. Now you're going to tell me what to eat?

A fat smoker told "Sarah Palin" to eat a balanced diet and that made her mad. We cannot recommend this book highly enough. And you can get it for free!

Page scans via Celtic Diva, Wonkette.

Oh, and PS: It turns out that Sarah Palin talks like that because of Government Socialism. Seriously! Alaska's Mat-Stu valley region was populated by upper midwestern farmers relocated to Alaska as part of a New Deal agricultural program. This was basically exactly the sort of thing Stalin would do, and though most of those 200 Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Michigan families who were resettled in Alaska to farm hated it immensely and eventually left, they left behind a legacy of talking like a goober. (Palin also has a western influence in her accent, because her family is from Idaho. And also, obviously, she talks like even more of a goober when she is on television trying to prove that she is as much of a reactionary moron as the reactionary morons she is trying to appeal to. We all know Real Americans don't fully pronounce the suffixes of present participles, etc. etc..)

Lambert is one of the annual Out 100, the best, brightest, and biggest in the gay world as chosen by the very queer magazine. While Lambert is very open about his love for the men, it's still thrilling for interviewers to hear him talk, awkwardly, about having sex with women. Check out this quote about the time he tried to go down on a woman:

"It was a little gross because I don't think she was as clean as she could've been. It wasn't the act of it that really turned me off. I don't really remember. I was 18 and I was drunk. Or maybe I was 17... The point of the matter is that I would not rule it out. The idea is intriguing.

We love that you're trying to blur the lines of sexuality, Adam, but you're not especially convincing when you say "Ew gross, it smells like fish!" in one sentence and then, "I'd still hit it," in the next. And you're doing this wearing eyeliner and a bowtie in a magazine that is about as straight as a piece of spaghetti in boiling water. Why not just be happy being a man-loving homo? There's no shame in that. Especially for Out readers who would much rather hear about what Kris Allen looks like in his boxers than about your lady lust.

Speaking of women, it seems like Out may be ending their own inappropriate love affair with women. After having two straight women on the cover for their Out 100 issue in 2006 and 2008, last year they were down to only one (Katy Perry). We have another straight lady on this year's cover, Cyndi Lauper, as well as Wanda Sykes, a real live lesbian! It's great that the two women on the cover this year aren't just some pop tarts who want to sell more records to the gays, but a long-time gay activist and one who had the strength to come out on the national stage after the Prop 8 nightmare in California.

In fact, the list seems gloriously devoid of straight girls and full of actual homosexuals. Other honorees include: director Rob Marshall, "don't ask, don't tell" activist Dan Choi, actor Neil Patrick Harris, Spanish director Pedro Almodovar, recently out Kelly McGillis, Rep. Barney Frank, the transitioning Chaz Bono, and Broadway's Arthur Laurents.

The Observer is, at heart, a small little paper written by very smart people. It's not really the ideal pawn in a game of New York media mogul social climbing. Which will not stop Jared Kushner and his new bride from using it for that purpose!

Ivanka (who declined to give Crain's an interview for their story, although her dad did) twitted conspiratorially, "Do you think it's because of late Jared's new paper, The Commercial Observer, has stolen the last of Crains' few remaining advertisers?" Somehow we doubt that is the case! The story is mostly a pedestrian and factual recounting of the last few years of Kushner's and Trump's uniformly laughable rise to DIZZYING HEIGHTS of business moguldom or something, despite the fact that both of them are silver spoon kids with no discernible talent for actually making money, apart from slapping the "Trump" brand on various shitty baubles. Jared is actually astoundingly good at losing money, so far.

What Ivanka calls "misinformed and pointless" is actually just a roundup of the various inanities and business failures she and Jared have racked up in the recent past. The worrying thing here is not that Ivanka (who, her dad says, "loves the public, she loves to be out there") is upset; it's that she and her husband seem to be totally enveloping the New York Observer in the Trump Brand. Ivanka's book ads were just the beginning. The fact that it's now impossible to discuss one of New York's most literary weeklies without being one degree of separation from discussing Donald Trump does not portend a happy future.

And get off Twitter, Ivanka. That will be one million dollars.
[Pic via]

Business Insider has the full, 29-picture photo tour. Google has been outfitting its various offices like this for a while, but it's always an eye-openingly retro experience to actually see the office trappings of the hugely profitable company. Below, find our five favorites, the ones that really take us back to the days of Webvan and Pets.com. We mock, of course, because we're insanely jealous.

The reception area is straightforward enough...

Google takes a systematic approach to free snacks. A less successful dot-com would just have pre-wrapped candy and open/stale cereal boxes and so forth.

"We've hired a substitute short-order cook named David Chang. Apologies in advance if he screws up your lunch."

Of course there are razor scooters.

The requisite exposed brick. Plus a can of of kerosene in case you should ever feel disgruntled. Don't be evil!

From the Guardian, who snaffled it in turn from a book called Straight From the Fridge, A Dictionary of Hipster Slang by Max Decharne.

(On a related note: we, and by we I mean I, need a new term to refer to scene-y people in lower Manhattan between the ages of 18 and 40. You know, the ones who used to go to Beatrice and the Jane and are referred to as hipsters even though they never use any of the below phraseology. Place suggestions in the box. Thanks.)

BARBECUE:

A hot-looking lady.

BOIL MY CABBAGE:

Blues slang for sex.

BUCKET OF BLOOD:

A spit and sawdust bar.

BUNK HABIT:

Lounging around while others smoke opium, and inhaling the fumes.

BUTTER-AND-EGG:

Out-of-town sucker, free with his money.

CHICAGO OVERCOAT:

Coffin.

CHICAGO LIGHTNING:

Gunfire.

COLD MEAT PARTY

A funeral.

COMMUNITY JOY RIDE

A druggie party.

DEAD SOLDIERS

Empty beer bottles.

DIME DROPPER

An informer (someone who drops a dime in payphone to call the cops).

FACE LIKE A RUSSIAN FLAG

Embarrassed, ie red.

FLORIDA HONEYMOON

A dirty weekend.

FREE TO RUN FOR PRESIDENT

Out of work, unemployed.

HAEMOPHILIA OF THE LARYNX

A blabbermouth.

HARLEM SUNSET

Knife wounds.

HAVE ONE ON THE CITY

Drink some water.

HOT SQUAT/JUICE JOLT

The electric chair.

JACK RABBIT BLOOD

Habitual prison escaper.

KNOW YOUR GROCERIES

Be hip, aware, alert to the situation.

LONGHAIRS

Non-hipsters, squares, lovers of straight music.

MATTRESS ROUTE

Sleeping your way to the top.

MOOSE-EYES

A leering dude.

OLD ENOUGH TO VOTE

Vintage liquor or wine.

PREPARING BAIT

Putting on makeup.

PULLING THE DUTCH ACT

Committing suicide.

RIDING ACADEMY

Brothel.

ROUNDHEELS

Party girl (deriving from a supposed natural ability to regularly fall over backwards).

THE SCRAMBLE EGG TREATMENT

A sex show.

SCREWED, BLUED AND TATTOOED

A wild night out.

SINHOUND

A priest.

SNIFFING ARIZONA PERFUME

Going to the gas chamber.

STRAIGHT FROM THE FRIDGE

Cool. Obviously.

TAKEN OFF THE PAYROLL

Killed/assassinated.

THAT VIBRATES ME

I'm impressed, I really like it.

THROW THAT DIRT IN YOUR FACE

Being buried.

TORSO-TOSSER

Hootchie-coochie dancer, stripper.

VOMIT ON THE TABLE

Speak up.

WEEK AT THE KNEES

Unsuccessful courtship.

YOUR ROOF IS LEAKING

You're a bit crazy.

Our sister site Fleshbot reports (link NSFW) that Vivid has announced that it has the tapes in its possession, and TMZ has published a letter from Vivid chair Steve Hirsch to Prejean's lawyers seeking the right to distribute "erotic footage that Carrie Prejean, former Miss California, produced for her boyfriend following their four (4) day rendezvous in February 2007." Here's where everyone purses their lips, nods slowly, and says "Four days? Nice..."

Ever the persuader, Hirsch explains that Vivid's platinum-leafed "Vivid-Celeb" imprint boasts starlet titles including Kim Kardashian Superstar, Shauna Sand Exposed, and former Miss USA Kelli McCarty's Faithless. Unfortunately for Vivid (and fans of teen masturbation) Carrie's mother—who is also her rep—has already said "No, not at any price" to the proposal.

If Hirsch's date is right, then Carrie didn't lie about her age in the video(s). She was nineteen, the "teenager" she repeatedly described herself as in her "worst mistake of my life" monologue—and above the age of consent. Everyone wins!

November 15, 2009

Law Offices of
Charles S. Limandri
P.O. Box 9120
16236 San Dieguito Road
Suite 3-15
Rancho Santa Fe, CA 92067

Re: Carrie Prejean

Dear Mr. Limandri:

Vivid Entertainment ("Vivid") is interested in acquiring the rights to distribute the erotic footage that Carrie Prejean, former Miss California, produced for her boyfriend following their four (4) day rendezvous in February 2007 (the "Footage").

We would like to present Carrie with several options where she could certainly earn millions of dollars

Vivid is the world's leading adult film company. It places a heavy emphasis on high quality erotic film entertainment. Vivid has been in the adult business for over 25 years and has built an excellent reputation for integrity and fair dealing.

Carrie is a beautiful woman. We believe the Footage will be a huge success and has the potential of being the most successful adult video of all time. We will do it right the first time.

The Footage, starring Carrie, would be distributed on Vivid.com and under the "Vivid-Celeb" imprint, which prior releases include: "Kim Kardashian Superstar" an adult film starring Kim Kardashian and hip hop star Ray J; "Faithless", an adult film staring [sic] Kelli McCarty, former Miss USA and finalist in the Miss Universe pageant; and "Shauna Sand Exposed" an adult film staring [sic] former Playboy Playmate Shauna Sand.

We trust that you will discuss our offer with Carrie, and we look forward to establishing a long term business relationship with her.

Very truly yours,
Vivid Entertainment, LLC

/Steven Hirsch/
Co-Chairman

[Fleshbot] NSFW
[TMZ]

The Daily Mail reports on the "race row" (Oh, Brits: Everything's a 'row' with them) sparked when black stars Faizon Love and Kali Hawk were cut from the UK version of the poster for the new Vince Vaugn vehicle Couples Retreat. This left a phalanx of palefaces begging passersby to spend some of their hard earned pounds on a film that scores 12% on Rotten Tomatoes.

A quick reminder of the rules before we get started: Each of you has two buttons in front of you—one marked "Racist," one marked "Not Racist". Once we begin, you may hit either of these buttons at any time; just be ready to state why you think the poster for this movie is or is not racist! Alright, contestants, let's take a look at this helpful diagram created by the Huffington Post that points out very clearly why the UK poster on the left may or may not be racist. Are you ready? Let's play! Is! It! Racist!

Racist!
This was a shameless, racist move by Universal to play to the historical aversion of foreign markets to black actors. As this Newsweek story on Will Smith points out:

Black actors have had a tough time appealing to foreign audiences, because the films they're often cast in are specific to African-American culture or history-they are films about African-Americans, as opposed to films that happen to have African-Americans in them.

Removing black people from a poster just because it's a sound business decision is offensive—not just to the actors, but to foreign audiences you're assuming are so backwards and scared of the Blacks that just seeing a movie starring African-Americans will fill their dreams for weeks with the terrifying image of a thousand dark hands grasping at them from some ancient, howling forest.

Not Racist!
Lighten up: The whole point of advertising is to make people want to come to your movie via making it seem good. Who has ever heard of Faizon Love (maybe best-known for his turn as "Big Large" in 2007's Who's Your Caddy) or Kali Hawk ("Popcorn Girl (uncredited)" in Celebrity)? As the Daily Mail article says: "A spokesman for makers Universal Pictures confirmed the poster had been changed to ‘simplify' it for the UK and international market outside America." When compared to Vaughn, Jason Bateman, Kristin Bell, Jon Favreau, etc., it's surprising is that these two no-names even made it on the U.S. poster.

Not (Any More) Racist!
Uh, never mind the British poster: Did you see the U.S. version? Not exactly a paragon of post-racial harmony: Love and Hawk are literally sitting in the back of the bus asking, "Um, hi, guys... can we come up to the front now? Did the Civil Rights Movement happen yet?"

Who Gives a Shit, the Movie is Terrible!
Love and Hawk should say a silent prayer of thanks for being left out of the poster, racist-ly or not. Maybe this way everyone will eventually forget they were in "Couples Retreat," and their nascent careers won't be killed by starring in a film Time magazine calls "just sad."

Nice groundwork by whoever got these from the McCain campaign at the Huffington Post, where Sam Stein reports today on a few contradictions the emails make with portions of the book.

Granted, they have to do with Palin's Saturday Night Live appearance, a prank on Palin by a bunch of morning radio goons, and the precise level McCain's campaign manager had to be an asshole to Palin's staffers, but still: if she's lied about these things, what else?

The first email is about Sarah's trepidation regarding going on SNL. McCain's campaign was all for it. Sarah wasn't. She thought SNL was "whack." And she wasn't about to go on the show to yuk it up with those people.

"Not after seeing clips of what they've been playing re: my family," Palin writes to campaign manager Steve Schmidt..."I had no idea how gross 'celebrities' on that show and in other celebrity venues could get when it comes to family and other aspects of my life that have nothing to do with seeking the vp slot. These folks are whack - didn't know it was as bad as it is... what's the upside in giving them any celebrity venue a ratings boost? That's Todd's input also.."

Good thing she didn't see last night's episode.

Of course, Steve Schmidt basically told her "do it if you want, or don't." So, she doesn't want to go on SNL, McCain's manager basically says fine, fuckit, then don't. What does she run in the book?

The Sarah Palin Reality To Book Copy Alchemizer, everyone:

"Let's do this," I said. "Let's go on and neutralize some of this, and have some fun!" Of course, the idea was met with massive back-and-forth haggling.

Boom. Met with haggling by who? Herself? Next, the Canadian DJ prank, in which two morning DJs got Palin on the phone pretending to be French President Nicolas Sarkozy. It was funny and awesome. And exposed a huge rift in the campaign.

[T]he McCain staffer also provided the email that Schmidt sent to Palin and her staff after she was prank[ed]..."Who set this up? Are you kidding me? Did it occur to anyone that the french president wouldn't be looking to have a conversation with the vicepresidential candidate 3 days before the election," Schmidt writes. "From this moment forward, no interview occurs without my direct signoff. Nothing. I want to know the exact details of this. I want to know who is responsible."

Right? Because if you were a campaign manager, you'd be pretty fucking pissed, too. But Schmidt appears to handle it moderately well. Palin's version of the story's slightly different, though.

In Going Rogue, Palin recalls Schmidt screaming directly at her, so much so that it "blew my hair back."

Also, she noted that Schmidt called her. The aides are calling that bullshit, saying no call happened, that Schmidt's supposed wrath of fury was aimed at staff and not Palin, and that this was all done over email.

The best, though, is this: an email from Sarah Palin that appears to be her, apologizing for completely screwing the pooch on media appearances, and thanking the staff for their hard work in the face of her Rainman-like ability to completely Hindenburg every high-profile press opportunity given to her. So there is some self-awareness there! Damn.

"I am very sorry," Palin writes to Nicolle Wallace, Steve Schmidt, and Rick Davis, with her husband, Todd, cc:ed. "u guys are working double-triple time on this blundered-up stuff that they spin bc of my visits w press - while I apologize I say I love you guys!!!"

Naturally, the book reportedly has Palin painting the McCain campaign as overly controlling and temperamental. Maybe they were temperamental: I'd be fuckingmental if I had to work with Palin. Even so, though, her characterizations are appearing to be alternate realities, or—here's a good one I can't take credit for—"magical realism."

What else is happening with Going Rogue today? Michiko Kakutani savaged it the Times today, penning less a review than an curbside beating. Newly inducted N.W.A. member and Atlantic columnist Andrew Sullivan, now fully aware that Sarah's an avid Daily Dish reader, has basically turned his blog into the Suck It Sarah Palin Daily Digest. In one post, he organizes all of her lies. In another, he frisks the above HuffPo story, giving it his own nice twist:

Palin is a delusional fantasist, existing in a world of her own imagination, asserting fact after fact that are demonstrably untrue, and unable to adjust to the actual reality after it has been demonstrated beyond any empirical doubt....She is a deeply disturbed individual.

The doc-tah is in.

The release of Going Rogue is like that moment in dodgeball when there's only one kid left on the other side of the court, and the last ball has rolled away from them, and everyone's just standing around, waiting to see who's going to pick up the ball and really go for the killshot.

$50 on this guy.

[Photo via Getty Images]

Now, here's how we talk about SNL when we talk about SNL. These be the rules:

Standardized Responses for SNL Threads.
1. SNL is still on?
2. I might have to watch this SNL sometime.
3. SNL hasn't been funny since _____ (insert name) was president.
4. The Tina Fey era was the (Choose one:) Best/ Worst.
5. (Canadians/Brits/Aussies:) You Americans can't say Fuck on the telly?
6. (Me, other Oldes:) Jane Curtin/ Dan Aykroyd - now there was a Weekend Update.
7. And I remember when Charles Rocket said Fuck. I got on my Commodore computer and typed a letter about it.

Normally this comes with the advisory of "don't be that guy." But last night's episode was so bad—so terribly awkward and painfully unfunny—I can't exactly blame anyone who contravenes house style, here. Should I even bother embedding some of the skits? It's not like we should condone this kind of awfulness. It's bad for the economy, for fucks sake. I considering doing this for a while, because it's patently lazy and relieves me of having to do any real work. On the other hand, this is about as authentic an assement of last night's episode of Saturday Night Live as you could probably get.

From last night's comment thread, live. And these are the Weekend Commenteratti being kind. It's like a linguistic Faces of Death, Comedy Edition. These are authentic reactions of complete, absolute, real horror:

• "You know, I started watching this with an open mind, determined not to be one of those "SNL sucks" snobs, but...This "Grace Kelly farting" thing is the worst piece of sketch comedy I've ever seen in my life. And I don't think that's an exaggeration. It's heinous." - MisterHippity. Also, this.
  
  
• "It was fucking PAINFUL." - mattchew03.
  
  
• "Dear God, please make it stop. This Rear Window skit is absolutely awful. I wondered if SNL was going to waste January Jones. Guess I got my answer." - OrneryBabe
  
  
• "Normally I defend SNL to the death, but good lord, this episode is painful to watch. I haven't been this embarrassed to be a fan of the show since Paris Hilton hosted. And January Jones's sucky cue-card reading isn't helping." - VioletViolet
  
  
• "I thought nothing could be worse than a Grace Kelly farting sketch, but I was wrong." - sweet_communist
  
  
• "This is the worst fucking episode ever, I think we may be watching history, bad, bad history." - TheProfessor69

Starting to get the idea?

Oh, and if it wasn't bad enough, from a deeply traumatized commenter, DahlELama:

OK, if you're watching SNL, you just saw Julia Allison. You can't pretend you didn't. I will not be the only one who's seen her onscreen. I can't be.

Yeah. They ran a Julia Allison commercial for Sony during SNL. Last night's SNL. And the Black Eyed Peas were the musical guest. Poor Fergie. First, Josh Duhamel does it with a stripper, and then she gets screwed by SNL by being on this episode. I'm going to take this moment to apologize to anyone who I might've suggested watch last night. I feel guilty. For the sake of history, let's learn from how bad this one was. The "good" skits don't even deserve to be talked about.

Here's your "Grace Kelly Farting" Rear Window skit. Reminder: jokes about Jimmy Stewart haven't been funny since Tom Hanks started acting. And jokes about farting haven't been funny since I was fourteen. Watch how January Jones breaks character at 4:55 and laughs. Probably because she thinks this is funny. Which is maybe why they went with it.

Here's a Digital Short where Fred Armisen keeps walking in on Andy Samberg taking a shit. I'm serious.

Like, honestly, no, fuck that, we're done here. See you next week, I think Dave Matthews Band is going to be on. Let's all get drunk and hope they play "Ants Marching," which, of course, they won't do. Lorne Michaels, you are mean. Especially considering the irony of this being the episode's musical centerpiece. I have no idea about the video's watermark, but it's somehow appropriate:

Dear god.

It's finally happened. I've spotted a trend. I feel winking and sleuthy and knowingly with-it. I'm a cross between Rene Russo in The Thomas Crown Affair and Allen Salkin. I'm available for freelance work.

You ready for this?

Horseradish.

The root plant, part of the same family as mustard and wasabi, is a delicious addition to the Bloody Mary you are drinking right now, an important part of Passover, and an alleged aphrodisiac. (Gardening website Planet Natural is appropriately blasé on that last point: "It was also used by the Romans as an aphrodisiac. Although, what didn't they use as an aphrodisiac?")

It is also a trend. Thrice between this week and last, horseradish has been spotted in the wedding announcements in one form or another. And three is a trend, and thus it is so.

Last week, Melissa Johnson and Timothy Lagasse drank horseradish-infused vodka on their first date and ultimately held the condiment so dear to their union that they downed shots of same vodka at the altar.

For this week's featured couple Laura Strauss (of the Farrar, Straus & Giroux Strauses) and John Alexander, the horseradish plays a slightly more tangential but no less important role, appearing in a list of several vodka flavors served by the couple at their reception. Vodka because in Soviet Russia, shots take you:

Ms. Straus has, according to friends, a Russian soul. She is "a person of ‘strast,' of passions," said Paul Greenberg, a friend and the author of a love story partly set in Russia.

(I like Paul Greenberg's set of credentials there, by the way. Replace Russia with Brooklyn and everyone's an expert.)

Straus's Russian Soul's online dating page, which contained "lesser-known lines from Shakespeare's Sonnet 116", caught the Oxford-educated Alexander's attention, and the two hit it off on their first date when she learned he had studied Russian in boarding school.

Straus continued to date others, to the dismay of Alexander, but later we learn this probably wasn't the worst idea given the small detail that his divorce didn't become final until a year and a half after their first date.

Anyway then they got into some real Russian culture:

Inspired by a Russian friend, the couple became regulars at a Russian-style bathhouse in Lower Manhattan, where he and Ms. Straus would whack each other with supple oak branches, a method of stimulating circulation.

Supple and stimulating! Rosalie R. Radomsky, you naughty former news aide.

The largest manufacturer of prepared horseradish in the United States is Gold's, a kosher condiment company based in Hempstead, NY. That's "Gold's" as in newlywed Melissa Gold, the fifth generation of her family to work at the company.

Gold met her husband Adam Gottlieb "the old-fashioned way – set up by their maternal grandmothers, who were in the same Yiddish club at their retirement community in Monroe Township." (I'll just point out that a photograph of her "surrounded by the company's line of mustards in squeeze bottles" was involved in that particular meeting of the minds.)

After some charming fumbling and bumbling on the first few dates the couple finally became serious after Passover, much to the great delight of their sweet bubbes. It took until then, notes the Times parenthetically, because Passover was "Ms. Gold's busy season with stepped-up horseradish production."

I suppose while we're mentioning trends I'm contractually obligated to stifle a yawn at the "Field Notes" article about cougars.

You may wonder why the Times is returning to a topic that it already covered (twice!) a month ago. I guess now the "cubs" are pursuing the "cougars" and not the other way around, based on some anecdotal evidence about attendence at a couple of cougar speed dating events and cougar cruises? I dunno, my biggest takeaway was that Benjamin Franklin liked sexing the older ladies because they were "so grateful!"

The cougarticle was made all the more random by the fact that the biggest older woman-younger man age gap in any of the adjacent wedding announcements was one year. On the other hand, bring on the intergenerational gays! Andre Caraco and David Azulay have 12 years in between them, William Gorman and Joseph Nardone are 15 years apart, and James Godfrey and Gregory Miller are separated by 17. Who's the trend piece writer now?

Elsewhere this weekend, Donald Rumsfield's speechwriter and special assistant entered into a second union of lies; this bride has the most random (and thorough!) set of freelance assignments that I've ever seen listed in one announcement; I'm still trying to figure out a way to weasel myself into a Birthright trip; a decorated major in the Army got a nice homecoming; if your iPod keeps breaking you have this guy to blame; and Roger from the final cast of Rent is lightin' some candles of his own.

This week's faceoff is not even a contest, just to make that clear right up front. But while the runner-up couple might not have stood a chance against the winning powerhouse couple in the conventional points system, they have healthy power-Brooklyn cred. I can say this because I once wrote a love story based partly in Brooklyn. In my head.

Lauren Arana and Jesse Weinraub

• The bride graduated cum laude from Vassar: +3
• The bride received a master's in nonprofit and NGO leadership at Penn: +4
• The bride grew up in Brooklyn: +1
• The bride's mother is an education director at Berkeley Carroll School: +2
• The bride's father is an architect: +2
• The groom went to Wesleyan, the most annoying liberal arts school in the US: +10
• The groom works in the documentary department at HBO: +2
• The groom's dad is former New York Times Hollywood institution Bernard Weinraub: +2
• The groom's mom is former Washington Post food reporter Judith Weinraub: +2
• The bride is keeping her name: +1

Total Power-Brooklyn Points: 29

Lisa Rockefeller and Edward Sebelius

• The bride graduated cum laude from Princeton and received an MBA at Dartmouth: +8
• The groom graduated from Georgetown, from which he also received a law degree, and received a master's degree in public administration from Harvard: +6
• The couple was married at the Gasparilla Inn in Boca Grande by an Episcopal priest: +2
• "The bride is a descendant of William A. Rockefeller Jr., who with his brother John D. Rockefeller were among the founders of the Standard Oil Company": +3
• On the other hand, William A. is no John D.: -1
• "His mother is the secretary of Health and Human Services. Until May, she was the governor of Kansas.": +3
• I have an insane crush on Kathleen Sebelius and her hair of blinding perfection: +2
• No seriously, she must have looked so good at the wedding: +1
• The bridegroom's maternal grandfather is a former governor of Ohio, his paternal grandfather was a congressman who represented western Kansas, and his dad is a federal magistrate judge: +5
• The couple met in Iowa in 2003 while working on John Kerry's campaign: +2
Total New American Monarchy points: 31

My only issue is that I'm bummed the Times didn't take full advantage of the whole meeting-on-the-Kerry-campaign. Because really, they totally could have worked in this.

The U.S. Marshals Service auctioned off 188 items seized from Madoff's many houses after he was arrested for duping his investors out of approximately $65 billion and perpetrating the largest financial fraud in U.S. history. Proceeds from the Madoff auction will benefit a fund for his victims.

Diane works for an organization of bankruptcy attorneys. She said "some of" the members of her group might be Madoff victims "but they would never tell me." Diane was surprised that the "vast majority of the stuff" at the auction "seemed drug dealer-ish." A nearby Marshall cracked: "that's because most of it is." Before and after Madoff's stuff went on sale, 409 items seized from other criminals were auctioned including several pieces of bling such as a necklace emblazoned with the Mercedes logo.

The auction was held in a second floor ballroom at the Sheraton Hotel and Towers in Midtown where buyers sat in a large room under a recessed crystal chandelier. Many of the bidders were jewelry dealers and other auction veterans. Outside the ballroom, I overheard them discussing the theory that the Madoff items would fetch a premium because of their association with the disgraced financier. In addition to these seasoned auction veterans, the Madoff sale attracted first-timers who wanted to witness history in the making.

On stage in the front of the room, a crew from Gaston & Sheehan Auctioneers ran the show. Gaston & Sheehan is based in Pflugerville, Texas and their staffers lent an authentic Old South sheen to the proceedings. The emcee spoke in a rapid-fire auction patter and bid-spotters punctuated the air with shouts of "Yah!" when buyers placed new bids.

Deborah Pointer, the executive producer of Russell Simmon's "Def Poetry Jam" was there to purchase "some African masks" that belonged to the Madoffs for her collection. Mona Berkowitz attended the auction wearing a coat with a fur collar and a pearl necklace. She pointed out that many of the bidders who bought earlier items were "buying thinking it's Madoff and it's not, Madoff was Jewish I don't think he had crucifixes."

Mario Ramirez, who works for the New York Aquarium Service brought an envelope filled with $3,500 cash, intent on purchasing Bernie's personalized New York Mets jacket. Ramizrez said he wanted the jacket because "I'm sure it's going to be worth something in the future, it's the biggest Ponzi scheme in the world and I was there for it." Ramirez said he plans to sell the jacket on eBay after next "season is over 'cause I want to wear it at the stadium." Ramirez said he's not worried about facing backlash while wearing a jacket labeled "Madoff" at Citi Field because "I'm taking my co-workers and they're pretty big guys." Following a bidding war, the jacket eventually went to an online buyer for $14,500. Most of the items at the auction sold for prices well above their estimated value.

Don Kruzer came to the auction with three friends from Washington, D.C. hoping to purchase "stuff for my Lake George summer home" from Bernie Madoff's house in Montauk. Originally, Kruzer came to New York to see James Gandolfini in God of Carnage on Broadway, but he included the Madoff auction in his trip after reading about it in the newspaper.

Kruzer, who works in the healthcare industry, was especially interested in bidding on Madoff's golf clubs and the duck decoys that he used to decorate his house in Long Island. The duck decoys ended up being fiercely bid for at the auction, going for $3,250-$4,750.

Lester Miller ended up purchasing the first Madoff item on sale at the auction, a fourteen carat gold "ocean motif" bracelet adorned with charms depicting a whale lighthouse, anchor, boat, sailfish, and lobster. Miller, a 77 year-old executive who works with a company that makes batteries for cell phone towers was wearing snakeskin loafers with a gold clasp. Miller has seven grandchildren, "six girls and one boy," who he's taking on a cruise from Mexico to Los Angeles next week.

Miller wasn't sure how many items he purchased at the auction or how much he spent, but he says he plans on giving the jewelry he bought at the auction to his grandchildren. Miller says he's "going to tell them" the story of Bernie Madoff "so they can see what happened to him."

With reporting from Sam Petulla

[Photo via Sarah Wali]

The terrifyingly prolific Sullivan took one of the 73 or so posts he penned before lunch to quickly frisk today's Wall Street Journal piece on Sarah Palin's web strategy for her Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Bullshit, Going Rouge (©McSweeney's, 2009). And what is Sarah Palin's web strategy for her book?

Among the features of this new strategy: buying Internet advertising based on Google searches of her name, and using Facebook as a key means of communicating with voters. Her team also has considered filing libel suits against bloggers who spread rumors about her family.

GAMECHANGER. Not exactly the VBS.tv campaign I was hoping for, but still: damn. Sullivan, however, took this opportunity to note his (and my) favorite part of what's otherwise a snoozer of a filing. Which was this gem:

Ms. Palin was particularly angry at bloggers and the media, associates said, for speculation that her baby Trig was really the child of Bristol, her daughter. At one point, according to people familiar with the discussions, Ms. Palin considered pursuing a libel suit against at least one blogger, the Atlantic's Andrew Sullivan. Ms. Palin decided against such a move because of the publicity it would bring. Mr. Sullivan, in response, said asking "factually verifiable questions is obviously not libel." A spokeswoman for Ms. Palin didn't respond to email requests seeking comment.

Oh ho ho. Christmas came early for Andrew (though the trees stay year-round, thug). Sullivan's been a veritable thorn in many sides of many Palins, but naturally, Sarah's the big game. And let's be clear about this: people who have bloggers who write nasty things about them should never, ever, ever admit that they read that blogger. Because that blogger now knows they have a mainline to their target's face. And like she's gonna stop reading. What does Sullivan have to say about this? Besides hysterically prefacing what's probably his favorite block of text ever with the words "Money quote," he basically goes for the jugular while victory dancing on her face. This is basically the political blogger's version of the Dirty Bird, in a post titled Sarah Palin, Obsessive Daily Dish Reader:

Sources with access to Palin have indeed told to me that the Wasilla whack-job was an obsessive reader of this blog as it dared to ask factual questions about her past that could be easily answered. I have no way of knowing this myself, and regard it as odd that a vice-presidential candidate would be hell-bent on suing a blogger who, presumably, was merely making a total ass of himself in wondering if Palin's surreal account of her last pregnancy was factually accurate. Or is there something there - of some unknown sort - that she desperately wanted to intimidate and suppress? As Bubble would note: "Who can say?" What can Levi possibly mean that "she knows what I got on her?" The MSM won't touch this, of course.

Ho! We'll take some of that, please. Move it on your left, Andrew. Shit's bomb.

Meanwhile, if Sarah Palin or Bristol Palin admit to reading this website—operative term: admit—please give us a shout and let us know so we can dedicate a tag to them or something. In the mean time, here's the latest update on your son-in-law's your ex-boyfriend's Levi Johnston's penis.

The entire press release is below, but first, some, uh, "highlights":

• The headline, or whatever you'd call it in this case: "Playgirl Levi Johnston shoot "in the can" says Playgirl spokesman Daniel Nardicio" He wishes.
  
  
• Johnston was put into three "different scenarios" that are "accentuating" what Nardico referred to as his "(natural) athletic qualities, movie star looks and natural sexiness." So, what? A hockey rink, a horse stable, and an oil rig, right?
  
  
• Wrong! They decided against the hockey rink because it wasn't "intimate" enough. But remember, he will still have posed with a hockey stick.
  
  
• Apparently, Johnston was self-conscious about the shape he was in "due to all the traveling" he's been doing, but was lots of fun on the second day.
  
  
• This, from some Playgirl marketing person: "...We were talking in the greenroom about gay categories: bear, cubs and Levi asked what his type would be-we decided a twink, but older, so we anointed him a 'twunk'." I just, I have no idea. I have no idea.
  
  
• "Playgirl is planning a line of Levi Johnston condoms, a DVD of the week with Levi, and a return to celebrity interviews in the now quarterly magazine." There were also jokes made about how Levi should've used a condom before. Except, not, because then he wouldn't have his cock in full view in Playgirl.
  
  
• Levi said Palin's invite to dinner was bullshit, or "a nice gesture but she didnt [sic] mean it".
  
  
• The best part: "As to just how much Johnston showed during the shoot, what exact specifics of the shoot are, Playgirl subscribers are going to have to wait for the late November release of the pics on Playgirl.com." Yes, because none of us can surmise that Levi only has one thing Playgirl's readers want to see, and it's not his SAT2 score.

The release is fairly spastic and insane. The best is that it comes from Daniel Nardico Productions, and Daniel Nardico is quoted in it several times. So he interviewed himself. Bizarre, but okay. Also, Johnston drew his hand for an AIDS charity, wonderful. But here's the part that gets to me:

"He's just a simple guy, thrown into a situation, making the most out of it and seemingly enjoying himself. From my time with him, I'd say his first priority is Tripp", adds Nardicio.

Maybe he is. But the overwhelming sentiment I got from the Fleshbot Awards where Levi accepted some crazy penis trophy was "sad."

A lot of people found Levi's presence to be just plain sad. Here's this guy, he's in the big city, surrounded by big city people who are fascinated with him. Why?

Is it because of his inextricable link to one of liberalism's biggest enemies? Or the sexual freedom he represents by embracing his current status as a boyish sex symbol in the pages of GQ and Playgirl? Or is it because this all carries some kind of strangely ironic, trashy cachet, as if to tell the rest of America, conservative, liberal, or otherwise: this person who got a girl pregnant, who's now become a New York media darling, we can do this. We can choose these people and this kid who's otherwise just a good looking teen dad, we've opened up the waterways of fame for him. And we have! Or maybe it's just that nobody even moderately famous has been so enthusiastic to show their penis to everyone else. Right now, Levi Johnston has the most famous penis since Lady Gaga, who had the most famous penis since Dirk Diggler. That said, listen to the audio. He does sound a little morose. And sadness runs deep.

Whatever it is, Levi's in the driver's seat of a very fast car, and so far, he's rounding the track at a very fast pace. Here's hoping the kid'll slow down and hop out soon. If he crashes, it's his fault, but it's just not something anyone wants to see, you know? He seems like a nice kid.

Daniel Nardicio Promotions
November 14, 2009
For immediate release

Playgirl Levi Johnston shoot "in the can" says Playgirl spokesman Daniel Nardicio

Yesterday Playgirl finished it's much hyped shoot of Sarah Palin babydaddy "son-in-law" Levi Johnston in 3 locations in NYC.

The shoot featured Johnston in 3 different scenarios accentuating his natural "athletic qualities, movie star looks and natural sexiness" says Nardicio

"he expressed some concern that he wasnt in as good shape as he was a few weeks ago, due to all his traveling" states Nardicio, "but we found him to be in great shape, playful, and on the second day particularly, really fun."

Johnston took time to outline his hand for LifeBeat Aids Charity, and to do a few interviews throughout the grueling day, with both Entertainment Tonights Fran Weinstein and Playgirl Editor in Chief Nicole Caldwell.

Johnston spoke of how Palin was "full of it" during Oprahs interview (to air Monday, and ET will tape Johnston watching it) and Palin's half hearted invite on Oprah to Thanksgiving dinner was "a nice gesture but she didnt mean it".

Nardicio spoke at length with Johnston during the week and found him to be a "man of few words, but when he spoke, it was usually funny, or adorable even".

The locations of the shoot were the Cooper Square Hotel, photographer Greg Weiner's studio in the East Village and Eagle's Nest studios on West 30th street. "We decided against the hockey rink as it was so public, not intimate enough" says Nardicio.

As to just how much Johnston showed during the shoot, what exact specifics of the shoot are, Playgirl subscribers are going to have to wait for the late November release of the pics on Playgirl.com

Nardicio and Johnston developed somewhat of a rapport, and the openly gay promoter and Playgirl Marketing guy states: "we were talking in the greenroom about gay categories: bear, cubs and Levi asked what his type would be-we decided a twink, but older, so we anointed him a 'twunk' ".

"He's just a simple guy, thrown into a situation, making the most out of it and seemingly enjoying himself. From my time with him, I'd say his first priority is Tripp", adds Nardicio.

As to who is next for Playgirl, Nardicio answers: "I've been speaking to a few people, but of course this will be a hard act to follow. Re-envisioning a classic brand takes some planning, and we still have a lot to do with the Levi material. But this experience with Levi has opened some great doors for Playgirl to get guys who were impossible to get before." "Suddenly guys who would never consider PG are coming up to me and saying 'Make me a Levi' " adds Nardicio.

Playgirl is planning a line of Levi Johnston condoms, a DVD of the week with Levi, and a return to celebrity interviews in the now quarterly magazine.

"we're already hearing the Johnston condom jokes- about how he should have used them before."

Starting Monday November 16th, Entertainment Tonight will be showing background footage from the shoot, debuting pics from the shoot, and interviews with Johnston, Tank Jones (Johnston's manager) Nardicio, and Levi's workout leading up to the shoot.

Levi has fielded offers this week for press, Howard Stern, Joy Behar Show and The Daily Show.

Oh, fuck it, fine. Here. This one's for the "ladies."

lllustration by Steven Dressler. Bottom image via Getty]

When someone supposedly dies on Twitter, there are nothing but questions that aren't "Is this person actually dead?" Because who gives a shit if they're actually dead. There are issues here:

Do people actually trust Twitter?
Who do they trust?
Why? It's just someone with a Twitter.

But they do! And sometimes, that information is valid, and all it takes is one Tweet for Twitter to be the needle in a haystack screaming to be found. But Twitter, like the people who use it, is weird.

Which would explain part of the answer to the question, What do Kanye West, Lil' Wayne, Rick Astley, Britney Spears, Harrison Ford, Jeff Goldblum, Miley Cyrus have in common with Morrissey? They've all been "killed" by Twitter. But not the other questions they present:

Who starts the _____ is dead rumors? Anyone and everyone! It can be some high school junior, or, as is this case, the New York Times The Moment blog, trying to crowdsource information. If you suggest someone who isn't dead may be dead, you've started a ____ Is Dead meme.

Why did they start the _____ Is Dead memes? For all kinds of reasons! Said high school junior who, bored and stoned in his US Government Honors class, decides that John Bolton, who has a funny mustache, is dead. He can then raise his hand and start a discussion about John Bolton being dead! Or maybe someone hears something and decides that they need to know more, because they actually care about this person's impact in their lives (as is, possibly, the case with Moz and The Moment). But mostly, the impulse to declare someone dead who isn't has to come from a place of mischief. Having to explain that you're not dead, you're just waiting to be seated at Pastis, could be a serious inconvenience for you and your publicist. Or if you're not a publicist or don't have one, a "normal" person who has to go out of their way to call their parents and explain that the stress they just went through was for naught.

What would be considered a "successful" ______ is dead meme?

A+: Getting a mainstream media outlet to report on the death, or rumors of the death. Newspapers, newspaper's websites, breaking news websites or Twitter accounts (like Drudge or BNO), CNN, FOX, ABC, NBC, MSNBC, etc. If you can get someone to say something on the air about someone who's dead that isn't dead, without it being a denial, you've done an awesome job.

B+ to B: A personal denial. Get someone to admit that they're not dead through someone who isn't their publicist, either because their publicist's credibility was called into question, or because they weren't picking up the phone when they should've.

B-: A publicist denial. Fucking up a publicist's day isn't nearly as mischievous as fucking up Miley Cyrus' day, but still equally satisfying.

C+ to C-: High-profile news-denial. If a news outlet has to report and quell the rumor, at least you got it out there to the right people.

D+ to D: High-profile gossip denial. These people sort out death rumors professionally, and if yours is smart or obscure enough to make their job tough, decent, but otherwise, you're throwing them something slow and down the middle.

D- Subversive gossip and or news crowdsourcinng for an answer (see above, also, here), but add one grade notch for every 50,000 viewers they get a day.

F: You get re-tweeted a few times. That's it.

So, how do you do it correctly?

1. Pick your target correctly. Find an obscure figure who isn't exactly "popular" amongst Twitter's celebrities. Make sure they're not on Twitter, or Twittering when you put the rumor out there. This would be an example of a "Twitter Death Meme Fail":

They can't Twitter their reaction, and they can't have people with them who could Twitter a denial. A really great pick is someone who you didn't even know was still alive. Marian Seldes would be decent, so would Kathleen Turner, because then, you can get a bunch of insane Broadway gays to start freaking out and asking questions. Which brings us to the second step:

2. Find someone to help corroborate your story. Make sure to find someone with decent cred and mix of followers with mixed interests.

You need someone to breathe on the burning embers to get a flame, right?

3. Stay silent. Don't say anything else, especially when people ask you where you heard that. Tip off a few gossip blogs, or blogs that are in the periphery of gossip and/or news blogs.

4. Wait. Teach a man to fish, he'll be set for life. But teach a man to fish without telling him that screaming "BE CAUGHT, YOU FUCKING FISH" won't help, and he's screwed. Stay calm. Wait for this thing to erupt. Once you've put it out there, unless you have multiple accounts with lots of followers to help corroborate your own story, all you can do is see what happens. You've set a line out there, enjoy the natural course it's going to take. Maybe go for a walk, work out, play with your dog. Enjoy the time you have before you get back to your computer to find out from P-Nasty himself that one of the Baldwin brothers had an aneurysm while grilling tandoori chicken skewers.

5. Celebrate correctly. Twitter provides for all. Once you've successfully "killed" someone via Twitter, you should respect and honor their not-dead-ness with a seance. A Twitter seance. Or, a Tweance.

And there you go! How to kill someone with Twitter, correctly. Now, go out there, and get your death fetish on. And please report back to us with your best results.

Oh, and by the way: Morrissey isn't dead. We think. Nice work.

Times media writer Edward Wyatt penned a soft, round filing that was about the word "douche." It appeared on today's front page.

This word is one with which this website (and media network) has a wide breadth of experience with. In November, 2006, former Gawker scribe Emily Gould wrote:

Don't get us wrong. It's not that (50%) of our delicate ladyish sensibilities are offended or anything; far from it. It's just that, as vagina-havers, we want to branch out a little bit in the realm of vagina-related insults. Also, we couldn't help but notice that the trope is now so bitten and tired, it pretty much begs to be called "Already Over" (if Already Over wasn't Already Over, obvs). Plus, Dolce has co-opted it for his own use. What a fucking asswizard!

Before we go any further, can we just say that "azzwizard" is kind of magical?

Anyway. People, as we are, can't be without first-stone casters. Observe:

I really, really hope there aren't actually 17,400 results for the word "douche" on Gawker websites that can't be cross-referenced with Joe Dolce.

But for a moment, back to Wyatt's piece. He didn't write about how the word evolved from a technical term of feminine hygiene to a schoolyard pejorative, to a favorite of bloggers and mediocre satire writers alike, to a Times media piece. No: that'd be too meta, and too interesting, and too far into the purview of their excellent After Deadline column.

In a newspaper where the word "fuck" is too vulgar as to only be printed once in its entire history—despite the word "fuck" and its entrenchment in our daily lives, in politics, popular culture, literature, and I'm sure its handy usage around Times' bullpens—they penned a piece based on the statistical usage and adoption into sitcom television, where every decent slang word goes to die.

It's filled with numbers about usage, and quotes from TV writers about how they employ it, like this one:

"As a writer, you're always reaching for a more potent way to call somebody a jerk," Dan Harmon, the creator of "Community," said about the word "douche." "This is a word that has evolved in the last couple of years - a thing that sounds like a thing you can't say."

It doesn't get much more interesting than that, except for a line about how the show that once presented the American Public with Dennis Franz's tuchus decided to give it an evolved go:

Users of the recently popular word "douche" defend its use, noting that it was invoked, usually with the suffix "bag," in the 1990s by the character Andy Sipowicz on "NYPD Blue," an ABC series that frequently pushed the boundaries of network acceptability.

Naturally, since this story dropped, the Gawker Weekend inbox has been brimming with of glee and excitement.

There are a few angles to take on it. Mediaite's Joe Coscarelli reflects much of the sentiment I've already heard out there in his lede:

I bet you never thought you'd see the day when you could pick up a copy of the New York Times and see the word "douche" on page one. And we're not talking hygiene!

And NYTpicker, that anonymous scourge of the New York Times' newsroom, takes out his or her butcher knife and gets to work on how typically bullshit the numbers used to create this story are, making a special point to note that the Times calls the word "offensive to many people" but doesn't say who those people are:

But seeing TV reporter Edward Wyatt and the NYT base its front-page reporting on numbers the paper actually requested from the Parents Television Council — a notoriously conservative TV watchdog group that has brought 99 percent of all indecency complaints before the FCC (we learned that from an excellent 2004 NYT story) — makes us a little sick. The PTC has been around since 1995, founded by conservative commentator L. Brent Bozell, and is responsible for complaints to the FCC about the Janet Jackson nipple slip and cursing on "NYPD Blue."

NYTpicker's right, and Joe Coscarelli's right. It's patently ridiculous that the Times uses generalized opinions to substantiate their numbers, to help give their story a case. There's also something inevitably entertaining about watching a newspaper as prude as the Times give the word "douche" some kind of once-over, even if the story behind it is fairly flimsy.

But honestly, this all just kind of brings me down.

Believe me, the last thing I want to do is rain on the parade of fun that is the New York Times using the word "douche," as someone who can only die happy once Clark Hoyt calls one of the Styles editor a "fuckface" in his Public Editor column. But let's talk about this like adults, kind of, for a moment.

But as someone with a strange affection for vulgar language, I only see this as an intense letdown.

To do this story two years ago would've been one thing, as the numbers slowly rise into becoming a trend, before it hits fever pitch. But for this story to run now, without Styles writer Allen Salkin's byline—and Salkin would've done way better with this—is absurd. Besides the fact that it's boring and plucked from a bullshit ether, the potential they laid waste to with this one is absurd. Mainly: to address the issue of creating new terms that don't exhaust themselves more and more on each usage. For example:

Where did the word "douche" come from in it's literal, non-slang implication?
Who were the first people to make the word "douche" a pejorative?
Who appended the word "bag" to the word "douche"?
Who uses this word every day?
How long has it been around?
Who (besides Gould/Shafrir/Balk/Sicha-era Gawker) has called this word over?
And what media outlets use it on a regular basis? But mostly:
Who's offended by the word?

There's nothing interesting about the word "mediocre" unless it's placed in an interesting context. On the inverse, the word "fuck" is almost always interesting, if only because it begs the question of necessity. The idea behind using a word like "douche" or "fuck" is to emphasize or exclaim something, it's to aid a common goal of writing or speaking, the reason people like me love language: to communicate an idea to someone you otherwise couldn't.

But what does the word "douche" communicate, exactly, besides the kind of person who would use it?

Maybe someone who's just unsavory in some regard, or someone who's typically unaware of their uncouth behavior. Or someone who does something your way of going about things disagrees with. There're way too many words like it. Maybe people just enjoy the way it rolls off the tongue, or maybe people actually enjoy employing the connotation of a Feminine hygiene product (which is the point all you nu-Feminists should take to say the exact same thing Gould said three years ago).

But really, the word douche is just like the story the Times did on it, and the generalized sources—the "some people" who "may be offended" by it— they used. It's empty. It means nothing. It's a completely subjective assessment of somebody who does something you don't like. I know people who use the word "douchebag" when referring to other people; I'm willing to bet those same people use the word "douchebag" to refer to the people referring to them. And I'm most disappointed when people I know who use the word could find something more concise, or shocking, or linguistically artful to go with. It's sold at the Wal-Mart of pejoratives. It's cheap, it's made en masse, and there's nothing but bad preservatives in the ingredients. Let's all—The New York Times, Bloggers, TV Writers, Those Who Use The Word "Douchebag," Those Who You Would Call A "Douche," Bar Patrons, Sports Fans, English Professors, Joe Dolce—become better communicators, and find something better than the word "douche" and it's mediocre suffix "bag" to go with.

Or, you know, we could just judge each other a little less.

Since none of these things will probably happen in the foreseeable future, just go with "douchenozzle" until it does. At least it sounds funny.

[Related Reading - Commenter VioletViolet makes a salient point: "I still think the NY Times article on "vajajay" was worse, although at least it wasn't on the front page. When you're asking Gloria Steinem for her opinion on a term that's use was mostly limited to The Soup, you're in trouble."]

1.) Chris Brown loves women.
He appeared on The Wendy Williams Show today to continue The Remorse Tour '09.

2.) The Unveiling of Charla Nash
Charla—who had her hands and face gruesomely torn off by her friend's pet chimp—was interviewed by Oprah this week. Her eyes were lost in the attack, so she hasn't seen what she looks like.

Also, while I generally love primates, the one who attacked Charla looks like an asshole.

3.) Slade's smiley

4.) Ben Affleck's cameo on Curb Your Enthusiasm
If you blink, you'll miss him.

5.) Tabloid stars collide

On The Insider this week, Jon Gosselin was giving Levi Johnston some "parenting advice." Earlier in the week on the same show, he went into some detail about his responsibility as a parent.

And he also talked shit on Kate's hair and kissing skills.

6.) Speaking of hair…
This kid has been suspended from school for getting an elaborate design shaved into his head. He is not allowed to return unless he shaves the rest of his head. His parents are supporting his "freedom of expression." Judging from the way he speaks, this kid needs a lot more school, and a little less expression.

7.) Men blame everything on our periods!

8.) This:

9.) Stephanie Pratt is growing on me.

10.) "It's important for women to stick together."
Faux-minism is not the answer for tackling double standards, when you don't even know what "double standards" are.

In an interview he just finished with Playgirl editor-in-chief Nicole Caldwell, Levi says of the invite, "You could tell by her laugh she was full of it." The petition to come over for some turkey was part of a segment the former Alaska governor taped for an Oprah episode that airs Monday.

Levi also that it was a "nice gesture, but she didn't mean it" and if he went, it would be "awkward." He also tells Entertainment Tonight, "Either she's telling a little spoof here or she's going to ask me in the next couple of days. I couldn't care less to go with Sarah Palin, but I want to be with my kid. It would probably be a little weird. It would be uncomfortable, but I'd go for my son's sake."

Well, between Levi's upcoming issue of the magazine and Palin's book, we think that a Thanksgiving dinner together (promptly followed by a food fight) would be just the photo op these two need to keep their prolonged dance of death going.

But there isn't really any suspense during the preparations for Bryant Park because hardly anyone watching the show cares about who the winner is. It's going to be one of three bland and visionless designers. The only interest we have in the final runway shows is that it will mark the end of our torture, and like a reality TV POW, we will take our first tentative steps from the cage of this season, blinking in the light and viciously stumbling toward the next season hoping that it has a warm bowl of soup and a phone call from home. Being the "finale" there was no challenge, it was just a lot of Tim Gunn, which was great, and designer whining, which was not.

Things We Hated:

• Two Part "Finales": This does not really exist. It's sort of like having a two-part execution. Either the thing is over or it's not. In this case, it is sadly not over. Instead of knowing who the winner is and putting this behind us, we had all the wind up and none of the pitch last night. It was not part one of the finale. It was the second to last show. Don't even try your marketing mojo on the angry villiagers that are PR fans. We are sitting outside Lifetimes offices with torches and pitchforks and just hurtling this Frankenstein monster of an ending to come lurching toward us is not going to calm us down.
• Tim Meets the Family: This was originally a great feature, when Tim would go visit the designers at home and learn a bit about them and where they came from. Now it's a stunt for Tim to engage in some fake shenanigans for the camera. You made Tim Gunn utter the phrase, "I love a kitchen!" and for that, we will never forgive you.
• The Lilac Buttplug: Did anyone else notice that Carol Hannah is constructing a dress that looks exactly like a purple buttplug? And shame on Tim Gunn as the only gay standing not to mention it, because you know Ms. Kors has been waiting six seasons just to screech, "That thing looks like a lilac buttplug" from his judges chair.
• Self-Taught Designers: Sure, there must be some out there who do some good, but they're never on Runway. Whenever someone is self taught, they just don't have the goods to make it all the way through until the end. Hear that, Carol Hannah. It can't be that hard to go to fashion school. You don't have to get an MFA at Parsons, but if Christopher had gone to design school, he would probably be a working fashion designer right now, not some kid with a bad beard who cries alot and still lives in Minnesota.
• Irina's Yippie Dog, Princess: There is nothing worse than a bitch with a tiny little dog. We doubly hate Irina's dog because as soon as that little ball of dryer lint attacked Tim Gunn it was just so obvious that she would have one. Way to break the mold, Irina.
• Coney Island Design Gate: OK, so Irina can't use designs of Coney Island landmarks in her collection because they are trademarked designs, but Lifetime can clearly show them on the air? Did they call up whoever made that sketch and get him to sign a waiver or was that some lame last-ditch effort to try to work some scandal into the proceedings (a la Kara Saun not paying for her shoes or Jeffrey Sebelia maybe not doing all his own sewing).
• No Tension: There is just no tension in the work room at all. The surprise twist to make a 13th look was utterly predictable, as was bringing back the old designers to "help." No one has any serious problems with their clothing or is under serious time constraints and there are no model casting mishaps. There is just nothing compelling about this whole situation.
• Judges in the Work Room: Last night Ms. Kors and Nina Garcia Fashion Director of Marie Claire Magazine were behaving like parents who have joint custody of the kids but keep skipping their weekends and so they show up with a really elaborate gift to make the kids love them again. Guys, showing up to give the designers crappy "advice" before their runway show isn't going to make us like you, and it's not going to make you remember their names since you've been gone all season! Also, MK and NGFDMCM should not be slumming with no talent hacks like these. Their job is to talk trash about their cockamamie couture, not to nuture them.

Things We Loved:

• A Stitch in Time Saves Nine: The most enjoyable part of the whole hour was during the commercials when an extended trailer for the upcoming movie musical Nine completely transfixed us for two minutes. This is what Runway used to do, transport us to a world where we could see very fabulous and glamorous people doing miraculous things. We could peek behind the scenes and see how fashion was made, and by doing so, we were a part of it, like the magic of the runway was some somehow oozing out the television set and we were all little Carol Annes—our hands tingling with static next to the screen waiting to be sucked into the light and delivered from mundane existence for good. They did this with a fucking commercial!
• Being Back in New York: Just knowing the final three were back in the Big Apple made us feel happy and safe. Yes, we're Manhattan snobs. So what?
• Irina's Mom: She looks just like her daughter, but she seems fun and exciting, and was beautiful when she was young. And she didn't try to make Tim do something goofy. We like this lady.
• Althea's Boyfriend: He's cute. And keeps his mouth shut. What's not to love!
• Tim Gunn Drinking Champagne: He holds the flute by the stem with both hands very daintily, like a raccoon handling a half-eaten corn cob. It was just a moment of cute, unmanufactured beauty and quirkiness that reminded us why we love Tim Gunn. After the travesty of the home visits, we needed this.
• Swatch the Dog: The New York branch of the fabric store Mood has a dog that lives there named Swatch. He is the opposite of Irina's annoying ball of cliche. When we saw him on screen, all we could say was, "Aww." While that is a bit annoying, it's still cute.

So, in the end, we're left waiting until next week to see the final runway shows and see who wins. That means this week we're going straight to the videos! More designer stupidity ahoy!

Tim Gunn in an Apron
Context: Tim Gunn goes to Carol Hannah's friend's house in Huntington, NY ("the suburbs of New York City," ha!) and finds there her family has flown in to help them cook a southern meal. Tim Gunn has to make biscuits and they give him an apron.
Vision: To put Tim Gunn in an apron.
Delusion: To put Tim Gunn in an apron!
What Would Tim Gunn Say: "I don't know if I'm comfortable with this. I wouldn't want to look matronly."
Dramometer: 10

Copy Catty
Context: After Tim notices that both Althea and Irina are doing huge knits, Irina accuses Althea of copying her.
Vision: Irina has the vision that she invented the oversized sweater.
Delusion: She's just wrong. She's not that original and people don't want to copy her. Also, she's using other people's prints for her T-shirt, so she should just be quiet.
What Would Tim Gunn Say: "This looks like something I've seen before."
Dramometer: 8

Under the Gunn
Context: Irina explains how she changed her design after the producers told her she couldn't use a print of The Cyclone roller coaster because someone else designed it.
Vision: To write about the reasons why she loves New York on a T-shirt instead.
Delusion: That referencing Madonna will make all the queens in the audience love it.
What Would Tim Gunn Say: "I went back stage during the Sticky and Sweet tour. Let me tell you, it was both sticky and sweet!"
Dramometer: 4

Old Friends
Context: To help with the surprise 13th look the designers have to make, they brought back the last three designers to be their helpers. This has never ever happened ever in the history of Runway ever. We're shocked.
Vision: That bringing back the eliminated will create some kind of drama.
Delusion: These guys were bland and boring the first time around, nothing is going to change. Also, the "help" that they could give anyone in a sewing competition is negligible.
What Would Tim Gunn Say: "Isn't it great to have everyone gather round again?"
Dramometer: -167

Carol Hannah Puking
Context: Carol Hannah was late to the festivities because she had the stomach flu. After rallying all day, she's fallen ill again.
Vision: As one of the commenters on the live blog pointed out last night, that when Bunim/Murray—the company that now makes Runway and still makes The Real World—needs to create something interesting to watch, they show footage of two blondes crouched over a toilet.
Delusion: This really needs to be preceded by a hot tub scene to be effective.
What Would Tim Gunn Say: "This isn't very lady-like!"
Dramometer: 5

The Cruelty of Life as Illustrated by Models of the Runway