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

After new castmember Jack Danny (hello, Cheyenne Jackson!) tells Tracy and Jenna that they should be nice to Kenneth because he could be their boss some day, it throws their whole world order out of whack. Tracy decides to get to know Kenneth's future plans to see if he should worry about the way he's treated him. Of course, Kenneth says, in ten years, he hopes to be running the network, except there won't be a network. Burn, NBC! Looks like that Leno experiment will be the death of you.

There was also another great moment with Padma Lakshmi, though it must be unpacked (like a bag lunch) to get to all the layers of diss that it contains (the clip is below). Lakshmi hosts Top Chef on Bravo, which is owned by NBC. Top Chef's biggest sponsor is the "Glad family of products," a phrase that Lady P must know inside and out. To cast her as an egomaniacal version of herself who thinks she invented the sandwich bag (read Glad bag) but doesn't know the name of it will be a real kick in the shins to the people who write the checks for her show. Also, funny. No wonder there won't be a network in 10 years. 30 Rock is trying to put them out of business themselves!

Since summer people in the nightclub industry had been talking about a big spending arms dealer who was keeping them afloat with his profligate spending. When the Post broke this story about Jho Low, and his cavorting with Megan Fox, it was assumed that it was he. But it didn't quite fit — weapons don't seem like a young Ivy League-grad's first occupation. An anonymous source even specifically told Page Six, apparently unprompted, that Low is not an arms dealer.

In separate interviews since the story broke nightlife sources who have spent time around Low and his crew have aired their theory that he "is just a surrogate, for one of the Arab or Balkan guys who are always around," said one. "I heard that the big spender in the group was a kind of 'I may not be alive tomorrow' type, not a U Penn dude," said another, by email. "He's the guy behind the guy. He works for some sketchy people who don't want to be seen spending," said a third.

The only associate of Low's named in the coverage so far has been a Kuwaiti called Hamad Al Wazzan. There are a few companies based in Kuwait under that last name. The only one that directly mentions anyone named Hamad is The Al Wazzan group of companies, of which Hamad is the chairman and CEO. The group seems to have its fingers in many pies - the website lists automobiles, healthcare, construction and road safety among eleven very disparate fields. 'Security' is included, as is the vague term 'trading'. No further details are given.

This is just conjecture and may, of course, be an entirely different Hamad Al Wazzan, though the size of the company and the vagueness of its interests seem to fit the profile of the man-behind-the-man several sources have described.

In any case it seems there's more to the hundreds of thousands, or even millions, of dollars now washing around the city courtesy of some combination of Low and whoever is funding his high-jinks.

• 1. The Republican National Committee Is a Ponzi Scheme Palin says McCain charged her $50,000 to be vetted, and the RNC promised it'd pay her back when they won. Obviously, she was not reimbursed. Also obviously, McCain's camp denies this claim.
• 
  
• 2. Ethics Complaints Are Expensive At the time of her resignation as Alaska governor, Sarah's legal bills had reached $500,000.
• 
  
• 3. She Didn't Want the Clothes Also expensive: Her family's $150K makeover wardrobe, which McCain's staff forced them to buy—against their will!—for their debut. Sarah says the price tags flabbergasted her, and that she was told the clothes were "part of the convention."
• 
  
• 4. She Hates Katie Couric Palin "writes at length" about Katie Couric, who is biased, "badgering," and ignorant. Biggest Couric surprise: the McCain camp hired Katie's stylist for Sarah.
• 
  
• 5. Mostly, Though, She Pities Katie Sarah Palin's infamous interview with Couric was given out of pity, because Sarah wanted to do the ratings-averse female anchor a favor. Also, campaign aide Nicolle Wallace (the scapegoat for Palin's $150K shopping fiasco) said Couric would identify with her as a "working mother."
• 
  
• 6. She's Naming Names Speaking of campaign scapegoats: Mark Halperin reports that Palin names the campaign aides she thinks undermined her on the trail. Smart money's on Wallace and Steve Schmidt getting dragged through the mud.
• 
  
• 7. Her Literary Taste Tends Toward the 7th Grade Palin's favorite books are middle school classics The Pearl by John Steinbeck and Animal Farm by George Orwell, the latter of which she considers an uplifting political story. If those pigs beat the odds, so can I.
• 
  
• 8. The Campaign Handled Bristol's Pregnancy Wrong Palin says she rewrote the first public statement about her daughter's pregnancy, but the McCain campaign kept her "bottled up" and used their original statement instead. She found out when she heard a news anchor reading it on TV. She thought the campaign's statement inappropriately glamorized teen pregnancy.
• 
  
• 9. Levi Who? Most conspicuous absence: Levi Johnston, who is not mentioned even once in the book, including Palin's retelling of events at which he was present.
• 
  
• 10. No Flipping to the Back Second-most conspicuous absence: an index, which Halperin says is "subtle revenge on the party's Washington establishment, whose members tend to flip to the back pages and scan for their own names." This is possible, but I'm much more inclined to believe that her editors plumb forgot that this peculiar, vapid woman they were working with is an actual politician, who actually interacts with important people, and slipped into Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul mode by accident.

• 
  Update: AP's copy of Going Rogue wasn't an advanced copy—it was a leak!

Spend even a few minutes on a politically-inclined blog that leans to the left, and you'll spot the little red-and-white "News1News" logo (above) attached to the upper-left corner a YouTube clip, usually of Glenn Beck ranting hilariously or otherwise being horrible. News1News specializes in capturing and uploading Fox bloviator's most outrageous statements for all of eternity. And each day, we bloggers—from the Huffington Post, Mediaite, Truthdig, Gawker, etc.—plucked newsworthy clips from News1News' Youtube channel, surrounded them with our words, and put them on our sites. (In fact, Mediaite's feature "Your Moment of Glenn" is all News1News clips.) From all this blog love, News1News videos had more than 20 million cumulative views by the time it was shut down. It was the simple, convenient way to stoke Liberal ire!

But today, it appears that Fox News determined it was time to close this one-stop Liberal blog fodder shop: They sent more than 150 DMCA takedown notices to YouTube regarding Fox News clips on the News1News channel, said the channel's proprietor, John. (John, a doctor living in Washington, DC, didn't want his last name used.) This put the channel well over YouTube's controversial "three-strike" copyright violation limit. News1News was shut down, and John was inundated with emails from caffeine-addled bloggers asking, frantically, "what happened!?"

Because, now, if you try to watch Hannity's infamous apology to Jon Stewart on the Huffington Post, or Michael Jackson's "ghost" on Gawker, or Glenn Beck saying dumb stuff on Truthdig, you will only see "This Video is no longer available due to copyright claim by Fox News LLC". (SPOOKY!!)

Which, granted, these clips did belong to Fox, and they were well in their rights to have them taken down, as specified by the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. So how do we know this is a politically-motivated move by Fox to hinder the liberal blogosphere's ability to make fun of them? Because plenty of Fox News clips are still available on YouTube—only on conservative-leaning channels: GlennBeckDailyClips, for example has more than 630 clips of, well, the Glenn Beck Program. And ConservativeNation has 186 stomach-churning videos from the whole spectrum of quality Fox News programing. Also: Duh, Fox News would totally do something like this.

News1News is back up, at a new address—at least until Fox takes it down again. But what's surprising about this whole episode isn't that Fox will use digital copyright law to fight back against its political opponents; it's that the operators of these popular cable news-ripping YouTube channels are actually pretty important players in the blog game. Think about it: They not only get to select which cable news clips have the possibility of "going viral" and becoming news themselves, but if they're taken down, whole swaths of video-based blog posts become a lot of words surrounding a big empty space.

Fox News thought John was important enough to take down, even though he's just some guy whose hobby is clipping videos and putting them on YouTube. And John said that network bigwigs took enough notice when one of his MSNBC clips hit 500,000 views that VP of Digital Media, Mark Lukasiewicz, personally called him to say they had their eye on him. (Mark Lukasiewicz could not be reached for comment because he is important and it is 9:30pm.)

How does John do it? "I DVR things," he said. "I know what people are going to find interesting. You can watch a Bill O'Reilly show and you can pick out the things that are going to make heads explode. Literally, when my head explodes I know it's going to be a good clip."

UPDATE: Fox filed three takedown notices against the new News1News account this morning. (See below.) STEEEERRRRRIKE ONE!

UPDATE 2: It appears that both GlennbeckClipsDaily and ConservativeNation YouTube accounts are now "suspended". A commenter claiming to be the owner of ConservativeNation says: "it seems as though Fox is hell bent getting ALL their clips off You Tube..I don't think this is aimed specifically at liberals." That could certainly be true—but the fact that these accounts didn't go down until after this article went up still suggests a preference for targeting liberal channels. (ConservativeNewMedia—a popular conservate channel that wasn't mentioned originally in this article—remains active. Let's see it it goes down now!)

Yes, last night was quite an emotional episode. And it was shaping up to be a "very special" episode of Glee, like when cousin Geri would come to visit on The Facts of Life, what with all the talk about handicapped people and gays and fake stutters . Being far superior to that '80s sitcom (sorry, Mrs. Garrett) our favorite singing dramedy about lovable losers didn't fall into the easy trap of sentimentality but instead went for some really genuine emotion. I'm still crying just thinking about it. Fucking Glee.

To really get into it, let look at what really got us to buy some stock in Kleenex: the music!

"Dancing With Myself": Yeah, yeah, we know this Billy Idol ditty is about jerking off, but on Glee it has a much more innocent meaning. For Artie, who finally got to do something other than wheel around aimlessly like a matchbox car in the back of a stationwagon, it's quite literal. He's always off by himself playing a guitar and not dancing with the rest of the Glee club. He's also not going to ride with them on the bus to sectionals because they can't afford the handcapable van that will get him and his wheelchair aboard. It's hard to be Artie, but he doesn't let it get him down. Such heart.

Also all alone is Quinn, even though she's carrying permanent company in her womb. First of all, Quinn looks much better now that he hair is out of that tight ponytail and she isn't wearing her Cheerios outfit every day. When out of uniform, it seems like she's growing a personality of her own as well. She was looser and more fun last night than she has been all season. Team Quinn! But it's hard to be her too. She's trying to keep her pregnancy secret and pay for all her doctor bills, and the only support she has is Finn, who isn't doing the job.

Speaking of which, Finn had a bout of lonliness himself last night. He's trying to play football and be in Glee and get a job to support his girlfriend that some other dude knocked up. Her constant nagging isn't helping either. But Puck is the stand-up guy Quinn needs, and he's so lonely pining after her that it takes him almost an hour to think up selling pot cupcakes to the school in order to pay for Quinn's ultrasound. A real juvenile deliquent like him should have been able to think that up in no time at all. You're slipping, Puck!

Rachel is back in lonely mode as well. Not only does Quinn have Finn asking "How high?" every time she tells him to get a job, but now Mr Schu is making her try out for her solos. Le gasp! She's worried that the auditon/election is going to turn into a popularity contest, but isn't any form of democracy really just that? She has no chance of winning, because everyone hates her, and you can't really blame them when she throws a hissy fit every time something doesn't go her way. You don't see Artie bitching and complaining because he's paralyzed, do you? If he can get through life without whining, then she can handle losing the solo in "Defying Gravity." God, Rachel. You're just like the new version of Melrose Place. We want you to like you, but you just make it so hard.

"Defying Gravity": Way to go Babygay Kurt and claim this song for the gays! Well, we've already taken it for our own. Just ask any queen who has stood on a cabaret table on Musical Mondays at New York gay bar Mecca, Splash, and thrown a handful of napkins in the air just as soon as Idina Menzel starts the first chorus. Amazing. Honestly, I enjoy this pared down version much more than the over-produced original from the musical Wicked.

Very obviously the song is about overcoming obstacles and using that journey as empowerment. That is just what Babygay Kurt does to get an audition for his favorite song. No wonder a young gay kid has a serious connection to this song, which is all about not accepting the limits others place on you to find the strength to be a powerful individual that wears Alexander McQueen to McKinley High. When Will won't let him try out to sing the song, BG Kurt goes to his dad, who takes his case to the principal. It's so sweet to see Pops go from an uptight greasemonkey to a PFLAG dad in the course of several episodes. All Babygay Kurt wants is a fair shake at trying to win the song, and once he has it, he works hard to make it happen.

Puck is looking for a fair shake too, but he wants to try out to win Quinn's icy heart now that she's carrying his baby. He comes up with moolah for her medical bills when stupid Finn can't. Even though he steals it from a bake sale that he made successful with drug-laced treats, his blond-headed object of affection is starting to see that he's a provider. Even more than giving her cash though, Puck seems to give Quinn the first real smiles we've seen all season, when they play Swedish Chef in the Home Ec room. Rather than giving her money, maybe really making her happy will be the thing that turns her heart around.

Even Finn is defying gravity by getting a job, even though he has to use Rachel and a little bit of lying about being paralyzed to get it. And why is Quinn even stressing about all this money stuff when she can get Terri to pay. Sure Terri, who is going to take the baby, said no to an expense account, but Quinn knows way too much about her and is way too shrewd to go about making boys pay for her lady vitamins when she can be conniving her way into the lap of luxury—or at least a few sets of free linens from Sheets-N-Things.

The biggest defyer of gravity is Artie who can not only defy gravity down there (and by that we mean his penis), but is also getting closer to Tina, the girl who has no last name but a stutter. Instead of letting his wheelchair push her away, he is trying to roll right into his heart. But once he gets there, she admits that her stutter was fake all along. We knew it! Either that, or her stutter was so bad that the writers made that up so that she would stop doing it. Seriously, her fake stutter was jacked. We can't believe anyone fell for that.

But she says that she came up with her ploy because she was so shy and she didn't want people paying attention to her and doing something that made her different would drive everyone away. But she has found the strength to be at center stage thanks to performing with Glee and she's dropping her ersatz impediment to be true to herself. We thought that Artie was being mean by reacting so harshly to her, but now we totally agree with him. When there are all these people, Babygay Kurt, Puck, Quinn, Finn, even Wicked Witch of the West Rachel, becoming strong by overcoming obstacles, she's been building one to try to hide behind. Sure, it's great she is growing as a person, but to someone like Artie (or BG Kurt or...) we could see how her fake stutter would be a s-s-serious no-no.

"Proud Mary": More than Tina Turner's defining anthem, this is a tune about the people one meets on a journey that make the trip worth taking and the burden a bit easier to bear.

The biggest enablers (and we mean that in a good way) were all the kids in the club, who got in their wheelchairs to roll a mile in Artie's shoes and to perfect their skills for this killer choreographed number. It's like jazz hands-icapped!

Babygay Kurt helped out around the house. When his father gets a homophobic phone call (we swear it was one of Rachel's fathers on the other end) BGK realizes that he may be strong enough to be out but his father isn't. He tells Pops that being a big ol' ball of gay glamor made him different, but his difference made him strong and will eventually get him out of crappy Lima for a job toiling away on Fashion Avenue. Well, that is when the tears started in earnest. We officially have a Pavlovian response to Kurt, and every time he sashays on screen, we get that tight, dry feeling in the back of our throat that signals another crying jag that we try to tamp down.

Tinyqueen Kurt (sorry, we had to mix it up) throws his audition so that his father doesn't have to take any extra heat from the people in town who don't want a boy singing a girl's song. We think that his father would have found a way to cope, that he would have found something redeeming in his own struggle to be accepted, but it's noble of Kurt to put his father before his own happiness. He's going to have plenty of time to be gay throwing napkins from atop a cabaret table at Splash on Musical Mondays.

Even though Artie is receiving so much good will from the team, he doesn't want to use the money selfishly to ride on the bus, but would rather install a ramp in the auditorium so that other kids can get themselves to center stage once he's gone. Jesus, why can't you just be a normal egotastic teenager, Artie. That wouldn't make us have to pull out one of the crumpled hankies from the bottom of our pockets to dab our eyes. What a jerk! Think of us!

But the nicest thing of all was that this was the first episode where everyone functioned as a unit rather than a bunch of subplots swimming along trying to impregnate a musical egg to give birth to this baby of a show. Before when someone would say "Oh, we have Glee, and we're all friends," we wouldn't buy it. But not anymore. And Will really is the one who made it happen. He finally did the right thing and got the kids to look past their selfishness to work hard to bring Artie along with them, and they all benefited. Except Rachael. She's still a bitch.

Jump Rope for Heart: Did you think we forgot about Sue Motherfucking Sylvester? Please!

She was a bit out of character last night, but she was still the best of the bunch. When she was nice to a little Down Syndrome girl and let her be on the Cheerios, we were seriously suspicious. Then, when she was drilling the girl and being mean to her in the gym, we knew that Sue was going to have some connection to handicapped people that was going to make her a real character and not the funniest one-dimensional sketch this side of Balky Bartokomous. It turns out that her sister has Down Syndrome, and Sue knows a thing or two about defying gravity for her family. OK, Glee, we'll make a deal. You can only go about making Sue MF Sylvester into a real person if she'll continue to be a raging bitch who says every inappropriate thing that comes into her little head. You already made her being a cunt to a retarded girl into an act of supreme love, don't you go doing that to everything. We cry enough as it is!

But really this jump rope sequence is like a great episode of Glee: everything piece working in synch to create something that is greater than the sum of its parts. Last night worked very well, mostly because it focused more on the kids and their relationships to each other rather than all the fake-baby-craziness, the Will-and-Emma-will-never-get-together antics, and all the other stupid adult bullshit that drives the show off the rails. It took the time to slow down the plot mechanics and really introduce us to these people. Also, the music sounded better than ever. Just when you thought you couldn't love something even more, it rides a unicorn back from several weeks away with a big bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and a Snuggie to keep you full, warm, completely satisfied, and a little damp around the eyes.

He did a remarkable job of not saying much. At 8:15 the party had barely begun at the downtown hotspot, known for its strict velvet rope and the racy performances on its main stage, the gregarious Tank Jones and his brother Marvin (in the role as Levi's trainer) were some of the first people to arrive. They installed the one-time human campaign prop at a table in the corner of the balcony so that several PR people could start the parade of press. The rest of the venue was practically empty, but everyone was clustered around Levi.

As the Observer's John Koblin interviewed Playgirl's spokesman Daniel Nardicio about the future of the magazine, the Levi interviews started. Everyone made way for a camera crew from Entertainment Tonight, which has exclusive access to Levi for all the behind-the-scenes action for the photo shoot that is taking place right now (if everything goes according to schedule). We didn't get close enough to hear what they asked during their ten minutes with Levi.

As they clear out, there were more print interviews to do. Michael Musto came by to say hi, but he interviewed Levi at his hotel earlier. I asked Musto if he was a good interview. He said yes, but agrees that it's hard to get him to say much. Jo Piazza from CNN came in and taped a few second with the Johnston crew. Before she started her interveiew, Tank said he's not answering questions about Sarah Palin or about suing for custody of Tripp, Levi's son with Palin's daughter Bristol. Then he flirted with her a little bit as she squeezed in next to Levi to ask her questions. Most of the questions were the same all night: How is this different from Alaska? What is he going to show? Is he ready for the shoot? Does he know that he's a gay icon? Will he do more porn? What does the future hold?

Levi always answers with the fewest words possible. This may make him appear a bit dim, but it seems a smart move for a guy who's standing around a bunch of people paid to turn any utterance he makes into "news." With the reporters gone, he quietly joked with Tank and Marvin.

When Piazza was done, he joked a bit with Nardicio, teaching him how to tuck a dollop of chew under his lip. "Don't you throw up on this table!" Tank chided. A PR person came by and said there were more interviews to be done. "I know. This isn't my first rodeo," Levi said. Another reporter sat down, this one from People. They knew to send a pretty girl.

When she left, the PR man told Tank that Page Six boss Richard Johnson wanted an introduction. Tank responded, "We're not talking to them. No pictures, nothing." The PR man conveyed the message to Johnson. "He just wants to say hi," Mr. PR pleaded with Tank. But Tank had made up his mind: No Levi for Johnson. "That's fine," said the Page Six editor before heading back downstairs. After he left, Tank complained about a Page Six item accusing Levi having a small dick and thus afraid to do any full-frontal shots: "That's not true!"

There was a break in the action and a PR girl brought by the trophy Levi will receive later in the evening: an 11-inch dildo made of silver. Everyone at the table laughed nervously and made jokes about how Levi isn't going to accept a dildo. Levi returned his trophy to the nice lady and said, "I can't believe I just won a giant silver dildo." He and Tank conferred and decide there can't be any pictures taken of him holding it, so they plan to have Nardicio take the stage with him and hold the award.

Then the photographers arrived. In groups of two, they came by the corner, their flashbulbs blinding in the dark club. Levi knew to look directly into the camera and then occasionally look away to blink. He didn't look like he was having any fun. When all that was over, he passed some time ogling the scantily-clad go-go dancers down below. Tank said, "Those are all real women right? I don't want to look if they're not real women." Another laugh. Nardicio tells them that they're all real women. I pointed out that there were definitely some drag queens in the mix. "That's OK, I didn't want those ones anyway," Levi responded. He told me that he hadn't had any time to go out and party while in New York City. "It's been all work. I'm all about business," he says. "But I like New York more each time I come here." What does he think about this event? "It's different," is all he'll say.

As the show starts, Gawker alum Joshua David Stein showed up asking questions for New York magazine. It was getting loud, the house was full. Tank informed him they'd do an interview later. Levi leaned over the balcony to watching the award ceremony on stage and performances by the likes of boy/boy/girl aerialist trio Mantryx. When the intermission came, the crew decided to go outside for some air.

Out on the sidewalk, it is a whole different scene. Dressed in identical tuxedos like they all went shopping at the same men's store earlier that evening, they moved as a unit. Flanked by two enormous black men, Levi wasn't easy to approach. That didn't stop the reporters. Kelefa Sanneh from the New Yorker came up received a stern lecture from Tank about not asking about Palin or custody. Sanneh started his round of questioning but was cut off by the arrival of two 20-something guys who made up TMZ's camera crew. They'd been tailing Levi and his crew ever since they arrived in New York and seemed almost like old friends. Sanneh backed off, to avoid getting captured by their camera. TMZ doesn't care about restrictions and they began asking about custody and Palin. Tank demurred. "Come on, you know better than that."

While Tank was distracted by dealing with the TMZ mess, Jacob Bernstein from The Daily Beast snuck up and peppered Levi with questions and scribbled furiously in his notebook. A male-female duo from Hollywood Life sidled up and began asking their own questions and with a Flip camera. After the questions, the Hollywood Life crew each took their picture with Levi. With Levi alone again, Sanneh came back for a second attempt at an interview. This time, though, he talked more to Tank that Levi. It's easy to go that direction, since Tank is a gregarious quote machine while Levi answers everything with about three words.

Levi was scheduled to accept his award as soon as the ceremony restarted after the intermission. The PR girl shadowing him told him and Nardicio to go hang out at Nick Denton's table so they'd be right next to the stage. but there isn't any room at the Gawker Media overlord's table. Levi headed instead for socialite Tinsley Mortimer's table where photographers eagerly snapped the unlikely pairing. Joshua David Stein returned for his promised interview, but Levi said he needs clear it with Tank. Stein rebutted that Tank had already cleared it, but Levi — who either didn't remember, didn't care, or simply wanted to protect himself — turned him down again, this time a little more firmly. Marvin stepped in and said they'd talk to Tank and do the interview later.

Levi asked who he needs to thank in his speech which he obviously hasn't thought about until then. Nardicio told him to thank Fleshbot and The Box. Levi added that he should also say something about the upcoming issue of Playgirl and to tell people to buy it. He is all business.

When his award was announced he and Nardicio went on stage where Levi successfully avoided being photographed with a big silver dildo. His speech was exactly what he planned: He thanked Fleshbot and The Box and then told everyone to buy his issue of Playgirl.

After leaving the stage, he meets up with Tank and Marvin and they head out the door. He has to get up early to work out before his big shoot. Our colleague Irin over at Jezebel got her questions answered about the type of ladies Levi likes and JDS eventually got his interview, making poor Richard Johnson the only person denied the chance to exchange banalities with the man of the hour. Levi, like he said, was all about business, and last night his business was spectacle.

Top three photos by Hee Jin Kang, bottom by GuestofaGuest

The fasten seat belt sign chimed off and Nigella Lawson, though tired from her Stansted to Vegas direct, lept from her seat. Anticipation, Satyricon lust, anxiety, hope warred in the ample playground of her bosom. Her nipple twitched in anticipation like a runner at the starting blocks. "Will Padma recognize me?" she wondered, grabbing madly at her Blackberry, "Will I recognize her?" The two food porn actresses would be meeting for the first time since they shared a night of wild Sapphic passion at the Food and Wine Classic in Aspen last year. There, on a blanket of pine needles, Nigella had found herself in the circle of Padma's love. And though time and distance had cooled the warmth of that moment, Nigella hoped they could rekindle that spark and that in the hotter climes of Las Vegas, it could flame to contagion.

The whip-p0or-whill mourned the sun as it rose over the Top Chef complex. Inside, six chefs remained, a bunch of culinary Koreshians: Kevin the Redeemer, Eli the Pissant Devil, Jennifer the Dirty Angel, Mike the Mephistopheles, Bryan the CFO of The Afterlife and Robin The Insidious Echo. The chefs rose and entered into the intestines of the Venetian, a hotel that has recreated Italy but without the history, the Vespa fumes, the marble and the art. In a service kitchen, a phone rings. For the Quickfire, they must cook Padma breakfast. She's above them, in a bathrobe, glowing.

In a bathrobe, glowing, Padma wants breakfast. She has company, glowing and breakfast-wanting too. Things went well when Nigella cleared customs. Padma had had a rough week, nay, a rough year, but had buffed her skin to an Indian summer and had sugared her crotch to depilated perfection. Her landing strip was ready. Her breast too heaved with excitement and anticipation and also, since she had just taken a monster hit from Tom Colicchio's dragon bong, coughing. A speck of spittle, like a diamond froth, flecked her lips like in a Marilyn Minter photograph. As soon as Nigella and Padma beheld each other they held each other, one folding into the other like dough to dough. Later, they made love, watched The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 ("This is the most unrealistic movie I've ever seen," said Padma, "and not in a good way either.") and then went back to their twin beds and slept in their bathrobes. They were hungry for eggs.

Eli, fat baby, who doesn't eat breakfast because he's usually up so late at night playing Scrabble with his Mom at the home he shares with his parents, won. His recipe, a morning play on a Reuben sandwich, will be featured in a Top Chef cookbook. "Cool," he said, over and over. "That's cool, Eli," said Kevin and it was clear he did not think either Eli or his recipe were cool. "Cool,' said Eli, in response.

Doing a grave disservice to Las Vegas casinos, the contestants were then sent to be "inspired" by Las Vegas casinos. Eli attends the saddest Circus in the world, Circus Circus. A concession stand sold achos. Fake fare unfair games, manned by real carnies, preyed like leopards on the fat, the slow, the sick, the fannypacked hasbeen and neverwere calves suckling from the teat of capitalism and getting only thin sour milk. Eli correctly noted, "There's no circus at Circus Circus," and headed to a nearby brothel in Ely, NV, to pay $200 for a halfie. Robin went to the Bellagio and got her mind blown by the color there. "I'm an artist," she unhelpfully and incorrectly explains. Mike went to New York New York, home of fake September 11th and began to build a tenuous connection between firefighters and chicken wings. Bryan soberly assessed a shark tank somewhere. Jennifer gots to get completely hammered watching a wizard and wandered aimlessly across a never-ending pattern of carpet vines. Kevin fondled a dolphin. [Kevin: See The Cove and fondle dolphins no more.]

After their breakfasts, Padma felt gassy and Nigella felt jetlagged. Worse, the night of passion had left smoldering ashes. Worse still, it was by the light of their watch fire in the night, that each saw looming over the other the cast of characters and the accumulated responsibility that throttled their love. Padma worried that Nigella couldn't be the mother she wanted for her child. Nigella worried they could not make up for distance and the distance between their years. They knew their love was a fragile Chihuly flower, a suspended iridescent air bubble racing to the water's surface where it would burst to oblivion. Whether she saw its disappearance as freedom or as death was a secret neither Nigella nor Padma wanted the other to know.

Things were tense at the judge's table. Toby Young, like a child acting out during his parents' divorce, tried to break the ice by making some horrendous jokes. No one paid attention. NIgella tried to concentrate but it was all she could do to not break into tears. Her love was intact and at the same time irretrievable, like a memory beyond the grasp of recall or an insect in amber. For her part Padma, caught in a crossfire of emotion, sank into a slo-mo catatonia. The chefs stood in front of her close but far like in a tilt-shift photo, their words mere sounds and their food dead to a tongue once so passionately entangled. Toby Young, a tattler twat, prattled on, prawn-faced and shrimp-souled, a sad malignant skin tag on television, a twit melanoma given a platform, made even more profane by the love and beauty so close to him passing unheeded and uncaught like waves of a deeper frequency to which he will never be attuned.

It was either Sadcircusfatboy Eli, who tried to make soup from white chocolate and cashew nuts, or Cancertalkbot Robin, who made Nerf Panna Cotta, that would be going home. That much was clear. I had hoped it would be both. It was only Robin, who cried and didn't once bring up cancer. [She had cancer.] Her passing was less gleeful than I had hoped. It was more of an execution than a crime of passion. I won't miss her; no one will. She was no good. But neither is Eli and I am sure his parents miss him. Eli, you should go home. Your mother misses you.

The human soul is a stupid thing. Nigella and Padma held hands on the way to the airport. They weren't trying to recapture something they never had had anyway but merely grasp what was left. Hope trumps memory and the heart wisdom. Winsome and weeping, the two women, cocooned in the back seat of a Suburban packed with their baggage, cut through the Vegas traffic. They were deaf to the horns, deaf to reason, deaf to anything but each other. They were in an air bubble hurtling to the surface. Padma sighed and nestled into the nape of Nigella's neck. "We'll always have Vegas," she whispered. Nigella just laughed, looked out at the Strip where the neon lights, shining in the hot sun, futily glowed and awaited the night.

Thank you to Bruce and Mikey Byhoff and hero intern Yoni Lotan for the video.

The (enemy) WSJ's Katherine Rosman overheard this exchange:

And there was the inevitable shop talk: As Times executive editor Bill Keller slid into a row of seats, an acquaintance asked, "So, are you parent of the year now at Dalton?"-a question that presumably referenced a story that ran on the front page that day about an incident at the student newspaper at the Dalton School. "I'm not sure how they feel about me," he responded and then took his seat.

That, of course, was the story this week about Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy making Dalton's school newspaper run its copy by him before it published. How outraged must the Dalton mafiosi be that the lowly New York Times dared to publicize the secret inner workings of their school paper! Remember:

Editors at The Daltonian either would not comment for this article or did not respond to requests for an interview, although a staff member provided a draft of The Daltonian's article.

The high school editors of The Daltonian can hardly be expected to make time for the sleazy tabloid lurking of the New York Times! Kudos to Bill Keller for having the courage to stand up to the Dalton Mob, putting his own family at risk for the sake of journalistic ethics. Your fancy Manhattan Media daily topic of discussion, ladies and gents.

he allegedly brewed the distilled resins of pot fermented with 180-proof grain alcohol.
The concoction was supposed to be mixed with juice or soda.

"Liquid marijuana," shit. At $120 for a Pepsi bottle full! In my day we called that "drinking the bong water," and it was free.
[Pic of what this probably looked like, via]

The storyline led to much media frothing about Munley — who no one disputes was brave and took part in efforts to stop the shootings. The New York Times today however cites an unnamed eyewitness who:

...said Major Hasan wheeled on Sergeant Munley as she rounded the corner of a building and shot her, putting her on the ground. Then Major Hasan turned his back on her and started putting another magazine into his semiautomatic pistol.

It was at that moment that Senior Sgt. Mark Todd, a veteran police officer, rounded another corner of the building, found Major Hasan fumbling with his weapon and shot him.

Todd is pictured above, alongside Munley on Oprah last night. The Times raise the spectre of Private Jessica Lynch, describing how the official military line about her capture in Iraq in 2003 — that she emptied her weapon in a "Rambo-like performance" that led to her wounding and capture — differed with the truth. She was hurt in a vehicle accident and was well cared-for by Iraqis. Conspiracy theorists do your worst!

Larry King, the reigning champion of softball interviews, was apparently not soft enough for Ms. Prejean. King broaches the subject of the lawsuit Carrie settled with Miss California USA. (You know, the mediation where they screened her sex tape in front of her mom?) Then, Carrie complains that King is "being inappropriate," and after a full minute of wrangling, she removes her microphone and announces she is leaving—only to end up sitting there for another minute, grinning and playing the "I ca-a-an't he-e-ear y-o-o-ou" game until Larry cuts to commercial.

The ensuing commercial break was deeply suspenseful. Would Carrie be on set when we returned? I can only imagine what sort of harsh, frantically whispered words were spoken during these moments, because when the show returned, Carrie's microphone had miraculously been rewired and King apologized. (Apparently Prejean didn't want to take phone calls, and it was the caller, not Larry's questions, that so perturbed her?) A temporary rift in the time-space continuum healed and Larry King Live returned to being as heavy-hitting as a feather-stuffed cashmere pillow.

The article (which is incomprehensibly only the second most-read article on the Las Vegas Sun's website) focuses on the "safety" and "decency" concerns raised by locals re: the mobile sin platform, which was devised as an advertisement for Deja Vu Showgirls and is described thusly:

It's akin to a small U-Haul truck but with Plexiglas surrounding the brightly lit cargo area instead of walls. In the middle is a gleaming stripper pole. Swinging around the pole is a scantily clad young woman. Two of her fellow strippers are in the back of the truck too, awaiting their turns.

Puttering up and down Las Vegas Boulevard on Monday night, it was photographed by nearly everyone it pulled alongside, from CityCenter construction workers to an SUV-load of 20-somethings from Colorado.

Yes, that sounds pretty distracting. In fact, I would say if a driver making his way down the Strip was watching a DVD of Wall-E on a television screen that covered his entire windshield while simultaneously breaking up with his girlfriend via text message and solving a complex math problem on an abacus he would be only 76% as distracted as if he was watching the stripper-mobile wend its way through Sin City. Imagine seeing the Pope-mobile driving down the road, only the Pope was stripping in it. That's the level of distraction we're dealing with it.

Concerned citizens have been complaining to city officials about the stripper-mobile. But it turns out, unsurprisingly, that Las Vegas does not have any laws precluding women from stripping in a truck:

Nothing about the women or the truck is illegal, a Metro Police spokesman said. "As long as it's not impeding traffic, it's fine," Officer Jacinto Rivera explained.

Yes, everything is kosher so long as people continue driving their cars while they photograph the stripper-mobile, like in this CNN report:

And if the mere existence of the stripper-mobile does not prove to you that Las Vegas is a gloriously wasted blight upon America from which our eventual destruction will spring, consider the hilarious way councilwoman Chris Giunchigliani went about expressing her concerns about it:

I don't care about the content or that they're female dancers. I'm sick of the women, in fact - let's get some men up there for once. But this is just illegal.

Viva Las Vegas!

UPDATE: A blog calling itself the "Nevada Progressive" is defending the Stripper-mobile as an example of "free speech." Now the stripper-mobile has confirmed my preconceived notions of progressives, too!

(photo via Roadsidepictures' Flickr)

According to Dylan Stableford: "A rep for Fox says that Hannity will address the issue on his show tonight."

Seriously, what will he say? The video evidence is obvious, and Hannity is heard babbling about how it is "Thursday" over footage from a Saturday in September, thus making some sort of "we didn't intend to deceive we just used rally file footage" argument a nonstarter.

But, you know, this is Sean Hannity, who does not care about "the truth" or "honesty" or "not booking insane antisemites on the show and not mentioning that they are insane antisemites," so who cares what he will say.

It will probably just be something like "the Jews sneaked in that other footage and tricked me into airing it, because I, Sean Hannity, am an antisemite who hates the Jews."

This is the new MTV reality show about a group of guidos living in a beach house for the summer. It's like one of those crappy email forwards full of pictures of guys with bad designer clothes, prickly hair, and fake tans throwing gang symbols at the camera, but it's actually alive. This is such a genius idea that we can't believe it hasn't been done before. No, Growing up Gotti does not count. We have the promo for you, but we have to ease you into it. Here are all the things that are going to be great about this sociological experiment. December 3 can not come soon enough.

Hair: The coiffure of the guido in his native habitat is a thing of beauty. As distinctive as the fluke of a whale and as arresting as the plumage on a turkey's tail, it is an amazing sculpture of gel and ingenuity. This is not so much as vanity, but artistry. You should buy an HD television to watch it in all its majesty.

Muscles: A guido without muscles is like a paraplegic without a wheelchair—he just wouldn't be able to function. Also, they make him spectacular to behold. Especially when he is in contest with others of his species.

Tanning: Hipsters have the ashen death pallor that is cultivated through hours of cruising the city at night and afternoons spent lying in a filthy unmade bed contemplating the importance of Animal Collective. Guidos just lie in a magical bed for 10 minutes a week and—Bam!!—they are a wonderful golden brown color. The darker they are, the more dedicated they are to their craft. We like ours to be the color of wet infield clay, but really we can appreciate the full color spectrum of browns.

Sunglasses in Nightclubs: This is not behavior that is exclusive to our subject but it it one they excel at over all other cultures. It has something to do with the tackiness and size of the sunglasses in comparison with the substandard lighting systems of the nightspots that they frequent. Also, they can not put them on the top of their heads, in case they crush the gel sculpture that is resting there.

Mating Rituals: As much as we hate the idea of their species propagating, we can't get enough of the intricate dances where the males try to woo the females. The female's plumage to attract a mate is equal to, if not surpassing, the males. When the two get together, it's like rubbing French manicured nails over a nylon stuffed with honeydews. Also, they often lead to...

Fights!: We don't know whether it's macho posturing, roid rage, or something in the water in parts of New Jersey, but when it comes to sparring in public the only creature that does it better are the ones classified as Real Housewives. The muscles, hair, tans, sunglasses, and mating rituals all assemble to create these fights, which are greater than the sum of their parts. Much like Voltron, but with better hair and bigger sunglasses.

OK, you are now ready to watch the trailer. They should put this on The Discovery Channel, it's so beautiful.

In Touch
"Oh, Baby! 'We're Ready!'"
Here's what Margaret learned: Kendra is a die-hard Nancy Grace fan and is worried about people who hurt children. "I tell Hank, we're going to know every neighbor, every teacher, every priest, everybody around us. We will make sure to be surrounded by good people. Like Jaycee Dugard — how can you not know your neighbors have kids living in tents in the backyard?" Khloe went to breastfeeding classes with Kourtney. None of this is scintillating, but there it is. Also inside: Suri Cruise has found her "sole mate" — another little girl who wears heels! (See image 7). Lots of random stuff in the Aniston/Jolie/Pitt story: Jennifer Aniston has given her friends permission to talk about Angelina for Andrew Morton's book, because she wants the world to know what Angie is really like. While they were filming Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Angie would call Brad repeatedly. "Angelina wanted to plant a seed of doubt in Jen's mind that something was going on with her and Brad," says a friend. "Jen and Brad would fight about it, then Brad would seek comfort from Angelina." At the time, Brad and Jen were actively trying to have a baby. Brad's pal says the book will probably contain information about Angelina that would make it easier for Brad to leave her — with nobody thinking worse of him. Dr. Gilda Carle, who does not treat anyone involved, says the book could open up communication between Brad and Jen and may lead to them reuniting. A story about Beyoncé's baby plans begins, "Beyoncé may soon be putting a diaper on it instead of a ring!" Does that even make sense? Lastly: Kate Hudson is "so desperate" to marry A-Rod, she even agreed to sign a pre-nup agreement to protect his $300 million fortune. A friend says she's already met with an attorney, intent on proving she's not after his cash.
Grade: F (rotting fish)

Ok!
"Angie's Adopting… Without Brad!"
Angelina is "preparing" to bring home a little girl from Syria, "a move that could result in an almighty showdown" in their "already strained relationship." Angie met the girl in October when she traveled to Syria with the UN Refugee Agency. Some more hyperbole: "Blinded by her desire to adopt again, Angie has failed to see the many glaring issues that are threatening her relationship with Brad." Just so you know, this adoption will be "a slap in Brad's face." Moving on: Matthew McConaughey's ladyfriend, Camilla Alves bought son Levi a baby bunny as a pet. (See image 8). Lastly: Secrets from the set of Glee! Madonna requested DVDs of the series for her kids, and is letting the show use her songs for an episode! Quinn and Rachel used to be roommates in real life!
Grade: F (rancid meat)

Life & Style
"Angelina's A Total Fake"
Apparently Angelina "manipulates and controls" every aspect of her life. Is that really a bad thing? Anyway: According to an "insider," Angelina has "mastered the ability to play the greatest role of her life — that of a doting mother and partner who'd do anything for humanity. But the truth is more complex." The mag claims Angie has "no sense of right and wrong" and convinced Brad that their relationship was fine when he was with Jennifer Aniston. "Angie created a world where he was free of accountability and responsibility for another person's feelings." Angie told Brad what was happening between them was bigger than they were and there was no way to deny it. She said they were destined to be together. Maybe she was right? Anywhoo, "Though the actress has stated that she wants the kids to be worldly, growing up in many places, some believe it may be harmful to deprive them or a stable home base." Also, Angelina and Brad are addicted to adopting, and Angelina is addicted to fame. More accusations and bullshit too tedious to print inside. Oh, and she "Says one thing, does another." (See image 9). She says she doesn't think about what she wears on the red carpet, but uses a stylist? That doesn't make her a hypocrite, that means someone else is thinking about what she wears on the red carpet. Gah. Moving on: An insider close to Jay-Z says: "Jay wanted to marry B and make babies with her from practically the day they met." When they were engaged, he called her "wifey" and "my baby's mama." Jennifer Aniston and John Mayer went on a date! He took her to his manager's birthday party. An eyewitness says: "They were clearly a couple. They were acting very lovey-dovey… She was giggly all night." Finally, TLC's T-Boz has Swine Flu! Over the years, she's been diagnosed with sickle-cell anemia, had brain surgery to remove a non-cancerous tumor, and now: H1N1. It took her two weeks to recover, but she says she won't get the vaccine next year, because whenever she gets a flu shot, she feels sick for about three days.
Grade: F (sour milk)

Us
"Angelina's Cruel Lies"
Ian Halperin's new book, Brangelina: The Untold Story of Brad Pitt & Angelina Jolie , has lots of claims, like: Angelina spread nasty rumors about her romantic rival Jen Aniston; a tipster says Angie was recently taking crystal meth; and Angelina and Brad are just one year from splitting. According to one of Halperin's exes, who worked on Troy with Brad Pitt, but never saw Brad with Angie, "They've broken up so many times, it would make your head spin." A limo driver says: "She has a temper like a cobra." Halperin claims that in 1998, Angie was so distraught that she hired a hit man to kill her. LOL. Also, Brad met a Sudanese model named Amma at a Darfur event and they flirted, fueling fears of cheating. An employee and the Dorchester Hotel in London overheard Shiloh refer to a nanny as "mommy." And, Halperin says, "It wouldn't surprise me in the least if the two were broken up by Christmas 2010." On the other hand, Us reports that Angie and Brad are enjoying "a peaceful French life" : A recent visitor says Angie was in the kitchen doing dishes while the kids were running outside; she could watch from the window. The kids have free reign on the estate's 880 acre grounds; Pax and Maddox run around for hours pointing their fingers at each other like guns. Shiloh and Zahara bond with the ponies and donkeys on the estate and "revel in golf cart rides with Daddy." An insider says: "Every time the cart goes over a bump, Shiloh squeals with delight." Moving right along: We love 3 of the "25 Things" you don't know about Dolly Parton: "I have a treehouse where I write a lot of children's songs." And! "I still believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and true love. Don't even try to tell me different." And! "I get acrylic put on the inside of my nails as well as the outside. It makes them just like guitar picks." On another page, Kim Kardashian reveals, "I lost my virginity to an R. Kelly CD." Wait, you had sex with a disc? "We put up the music really loud," she clarifies. Lindsay Lohan was "trailing after" Kellan Lutz (Twilight, 902010) at a club and "when she wasn't following him, she was texting him." She talked to him for 5 minutes — but it ended there. He has a girlfriend.
Grade: D- (freezer burned ice cream)

Star
"Mind Games!"
An insider says Jen and Angelina despise each other, and take great pleasure in seeing each other squirm. "Neither has an ounce of empathy." After Thanksgiving, Brad is filming The Lost City Of Z in Brazil, and Jen is planning a vacation in Mexico, but will take a side trip to Brazil! "Jennifer sees her chance for a reunion far from the prying eyes of Hollywood," a source says. "And she knows that when Angelina finds out — and she certainly will — she'll be livid." Jen gets drunk and calls Chateau Mirval in the middle of the night — and she likes that she wakes up Angie. Every time she hears that Brad and Angie are having problems, Jen will call Brad and "act sweet." Then Brad unloads on her, telling her Angie's being moody and difficult, and Jen loves that. Angelina steals all the roles that Jen wants and laughs when Jen's movies bomb. Angelina knows which designers Jen likes and when her "spies" find out she's asked for something, Angie tries to get it first, and be photographed in it. Angie knew that Jen wanted to wear an Elie Saab dress to the Oscars, but Angie got it first, and poor Jen had to wear Valentino. : ( Angelina isn't crazy about Brad's scruffy look, but Jen recently texted Brad, telling him he looked handsome and distinguished in his goatee. Brad likes watching them fight over him, so he purposely leaves out his cell phone so that Angie can see Jen's called or texted. Moving on: A handwriting expert analyzed Twilight autographs, and now we know that Robert Pattinson is highly intelligent; Kristen Stewart is "more traditional and stiff" and Rob and Kristen "feel safe with each other." (See image 10.) Blind item! "Which former TV host shocked patrons at LA's Voyeur night club on October 29 when he debuted his new face? Sources say he recently got a hush-hush eyelift that made him unrecognizable." Since his kid was born, Colin Farrell's girlfriend put a swear jar in his house — every time he curses he has to put in $100. Tobey Macguire was running and heard a "pitiful meow" and saw a scared kitten stuck in a tree! He pulled her to safety with his Spider-Man grip. Rihanna told Diane Sawyer that she doesn't hate Chris Brown, but and insider says she "despises" Chris — so much that if someone mentions his name, she'll say. "Please don't talk about him." Lindsay Lohan went to Crown Bar, where she ran into her former live-in love, Courtenay Semel. She asked to be moved to a table away from Courtenay, then "flirted heavily" with Twilight's Kellan Lutz, to no avail, then ran from the club to "sob in an alley." Lindsay also partied super-late three nights in a row at Leonardo Di Caprio's house. "Wow! Jessica's Revenge" is about how Jess Simpson dropped 15 pounds in 30 days "and she's not done yet." First she lost 5 lbs. by doing a three-day cleanse; then she cut meat from her diet and eliminated her favorite fatty Mexican foods — and has barely touched alcohol. A doctor who does not treat Simpson says: "This is the old Jessica we all know and love." Yes, not the sad, burrito-loving one! The vengeful, fasting one! The whole time Bradley Cooper has been dating Renée Zellweger, he's also been hooking up with his ex, Isabella Brewster — the younger sister of Jordana Brewster. "He wanted to keep it hush-hush, so usually, they'd just grab takeout and stay in," says a source. "He'd call and tell her, 'Bring your hot self over here, and don't forget dinner.'" Lastly: A man who wrote a book titled Blown For Good — about escaping Scientology — says Tom Cruise audited him when the guy was 17. This was 20 years ago. The dude says: "Tom would talk to inanimate objects, like books, desks, bottles, even ashtrays — for hours. You tell the ashtray, sit in that chair. And then you actually go over and put the ashtray in the chair. Then you tell the ashtray, 'Thank you.' Then you do the same thing with the bottle and the book. And you do this for hours and hours." Why? It's Scientology's "Book and Bottle Routine" that "rehabilitates" your ability to control things and be controlled. The guy says he was in a Scientology compound where he was forced to watch clips of Tom Cruise on talk shows. But then he snuck a small TV in and started watching late-night talk shows that made fun of Tom. "I'd see Conan O'Brien dissing Tom, and I was like wait a minute… They were all laughing their butts off about Tom Cruise being a crazy nutjob, but I thought he was awesome."
Grade: D (furry, moldy berries)

Click "full size" to enlarge.

Click "full size" to enlarge.

Earlier: All previous Midweek Madness posts