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 is a teen, as she said repeatedly in her "worst mistake of my life" monologue—but she is also 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."

We are some fucked up people, yo.

I mean, believe me, I totally see the appeal in the universe breaking LA off the coast and hiding it 4,000 feet under the sea, like the afikomen of God that will never be cashed in and found, because—sorry, LA—it's LA. Though apparently some people got teary during the part when the Kogi Truck gets swallowed up by an acid-spewing mutant volcano, so I guess it's a complicated emotion. But why are we so desperate to see what the end looks like? Because we're sadists? Masochists? Because we'd like to imagine a world in which only we exist and everything else just doesn't? [Related: Welcome to Lower Manhattan.] Because we want it all to just be totally fucked and end, and we want a hand in it, like that kid who spends five hours building a beautiful sand castle only to "Godzilla" it out of existence for six seconds?

Or because it looks sick? Which apparently, it did. To the tune of $225M.

The 162-minute disaster epic...blew away the competition and took in $65 million in North America in its opening weekend and $160 million worldwide. All totaled, the Roland Emmerich movie, which cost $200 million to make (and tens of millions more to market) grossed $225 million.

That's gotta be it. When the world ends, it's not like we're going to be able to watch it being so awesome. Also, we're all gonna die and it's gonna be crazy but, like, will it really look that cool? Hell to the no, BobbyBrown! It'll probably look like The Road or something. Gray and stupid and dusty and boring. But that's life, you know? Less Roland Emmerich, more Cormac McCarthy. Besides, only in Fakeland can anybody give a shit about Amanda Peet living through the end of the world. OH COME ON.

And then there's this Precious movie. The critics HATED it. Like this one:

Not since The Birth of a Nation has a mainstream movie demeaned the idea of black American life as much as Precious. Full of brazenly racist clichés (Precious steals and eats an entire bucket of fried chicken), it is a sociological horror show.

Ha, oh, just joking, that's batshit Armond White from the New York Press. This guy eats the innocence of children for breakfast and snacks on Labrador puppies for lunch. Also, he hated Up. But! Precious, which is a "the world sucks" movie of a different stripe, did well, too. Look:

The indie movie "Precious," which Lionsgate bought at Sundance, took in about $6.1 million in just 174 theaters in nine cities. That's an impressive $35,000 per-screen average.

Now, granted: 2012 was on about 40 bazillion more screens, but seriously, compared to the other top per-theater take ($19,095 for 2012), it's a pretty incredible number, and a 200% increase from last week's Precious take. That 200% number is not a joke.

Lesson, learned. It goes something like this: when I make my autobiographical epic, I Hope They Smoke Adderall In Hogwarts, I'm going to make sure to append the words "Tyler Perry and Oprah Winfrey Present." If only real-Hollywood were so smart. Dumbasses. Imagine if they did that to 2012. They would've made enough money to destroy the world for reals. Until then, we have LA's fake-comeuppance to go see again and again and again. Basically, yes:

[Photo of The Great Alderaan Explosion of '77: "Complicated Feelings," Mixed Media, provided by the artist.]

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]

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

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.