Hours after McKenzie Phillips' revelations of her "consensual" sexual relationship with her father swept media by storm, singer/talent judge/tabloid coverboy David Hasselhoff, a man who can't stand to sit on the sidelines of history, threw his 17-year-old daughter into the car and headed straight over to West Hollywood's noted sex shop Coco de Meraccording a TMZ report. Too soon?

So media, start cutting your special segments today, go ahead and order up your special edition covers, alert Barbara Walters to keep her beeper close to her head while she sleeps so she can leap out of the bed and slide down the breaking story fire pole and into the studio at a moment's notice. There is a humongous publicity tsunami hanging in the balance, waiting to be set off by a scientific confirmation that Celebrity Inappropriate Family Behavior is in fact a trend. And it is very hard to imagine that with all the venerable show biz families who buried the last vestiges of their shame eons ago, that there won't be just one of them willing to step up to the mat and claim their share of this negative PR goldmine.

Like Dan Kearns! Dan Kearns is a construction worker from Florida, and because there is no construction in Florida anymore, he does not have very much to do. So he decided to rename himself "Snipe" and hike north on the trail with guys named "Angry Hippie" and "Dance Party." This is "a symbol" of either "a jobless recovery or of a still-deepening recession" and there are data that prove its a trend:

Typically, about 1,000 hikers leave Georgia each spring in hopes of completing the trail in one all-out trek. This year, trail monitors say, close to 1,400 hikers were in the first wave, with hundreds more following behind through early summer.

People who start at the bottom and hike up are called "NoBos," and people who do it the other way are called "SoBos." The Journal notes: "NoBos and SoBos are reminiscent of the hobos of the Great Depression, though there aren't so many of them this time."

"Hiking the Appalachian Trail" was invented by South Carolina governor Mark Sanford, and while there is a lot of talk of actual hiking through Virginia with modern-day ex-banker hobos or whatever it actually means secretly flying to Argentina to have sex with a woman who isn't your wife.

Mr. Mayor, what do kids do to each other?

"Kids touch each other, and that's the real world," the mayor said on Tuesday, when asked about the matter. "And I'm not so sure you want a kid that doesn't want to high-five or hug or something. But I won't get involved in that..."

Yes, ok. We can't wait for the confessional Times Magazine piece on how abstaining from air kisses due to the Swine Flu threat caused one New York journalist's deep depression, divorce, and drug abuse. It will cost $500,000 to report.

The Washington Post speaks to the visionary inventor of the togafied Wearable Towel (which we introduced to you way back in May—theft??), who is under the impression that he can somehow defeat the Snuggie-Slanket superpowers. Which, let's be honest, can only lead to the sartorial equivalent of the Falkland Islands invasion, if he keeps running his big mouth. But you will be happy to know that at least he has attractive family members:

"My brother Ari — " also a star of Bravo's reality series "Miami Social." Heard of him? No? " — he does the Wearable Towel fashion shows," Stein says. "My sister, she was just in a Budweiser commercial," and that's her in the Wearable Towel commercial, gently drying her baby by dabbing it against the Wearable Towel she is draped in.

Pornography of his own sister and her child, in pursuit of Snuggie War victory. Where does it end, Mr. President?

Teenage girls everywhere are weeping now that they have a totally new form of body dysmorphia. For those who don't swear by Urban Dictionary as a way to kill time at work, the condition is when an ankle is so fat it joins itself to the calf, hence "cankle." Like other non diseases (dry eye syndrome, anyone) the cankle became of note becaues it became a way for some corporation to make a lot of money. This time it's Gold's Gym, who have declared July "Cankle Awareness Month." Trust us, one ride on the A Train with a bunch of fat tourists and you'll be mighty aware of cankles.

The gym is offering classes and workouts designed for women (and gay men) who want to work on toning their lower extremities and plumping their calves.

"Gold's personal trainers lead clients through a cankles-targeted regimen of jump rope, calf raises and jumping squats. As part of the promotion, the Irving, Texas, gym chain, with more than 500 locations across the country, launched a tongue-in-cheek SayNoToCankles.com Web site that offers tips such as fat-burning cardiovascular activities and brisk daily walks."

Yeah, we get that leggings are back and it's summer and Carrie Bradshaw decreed that all the girls should wear strappy sandles, but this is just ridiculous. At least there is one lady in the story making some sense.

To help persuade girls to embrace their chubby ankles, Carly Peitzmeyer, a 21-year-old senior at Truman State University in Kirksville, Mo., formed a Facebook support group called "Cankles Unite!" "I'm not overweight or anything, I just have really huge ankles," she says. "Really, there are bigger things to worry about."

Yes, there are bigger things to worry about, like your feck. What's that? That's when you neck is so fat that it merges with your face.

Yes, the economic downturn is even influencing what becomes of our earthly remains once we've gone off to that fabled land of plentiful virgins in the sky, or, for those non-Republicans who shun Jesus, the fiery pits of hell. In the process, a new profession, whose purpose is to teach grieving family proper corpse-handling skills, is thriving: Death midwife.

The cost of a death midwife, as some of the coaches call themselves, varies from about $200 for an initial consultation to $3,000 if the midwife needs to travel.

Many death midwives are like Jerrigrace Lyons, who was asked to participate in the home funeral of a close friend, a 54-year-old woman who died unexpectedly in 1994. Ms. Lyons was initially frightened at the prospect of handling the body, but she participated anyway.

The experience was life changing, she said, and inspired her to help others plan home funerals. She opened Final Passages in Sebastopol, Calif., in 1995 and said she had helped more than 300 families with funerals. Weekend workshops for those interested in home funerals have a waiting list.

Ms. Lyons educates the bereaved about the realities of after-death care: placing dry ice underneath the body to keep it cool, tying the jaw shut so it does not open.

We can't wait to attend our next Manhattan cocktail party so we can go around answering "death midwife" to the perpetual, "what do you do for a living?" questions that people ask at those things. It'll be swell!

Home Burials Offer A Different Alternative [New York Times]

Reports the New York Times:

This movement - a loose alliance of therapists, scientists and others - holds that all people, "even" fat people, can eat whatever they want and, in the process, improve their physical and mental health and stabilize their weight. The aim is to behave as if you have reached your "goal weight" and to act on ambitions postponed while trying to become thin, everything from buying new clothes to changing careers. Regular exercise should be for fun, not for slimming.

"Fat acceptance" ideas date back more than 30 years, but have lately edged into the mainstream, thanks in part to public hand-wringing by celebrities like Oprah, Kirstie Alley and the tennis player Monica Seles, who said she had to "throw out the word ‘diet' " to deal with her weight gain. (Oprah now cites her goal as being not "thin," but "healthy and strong and fit.")

Yes, it's perfectly okay for people to engorge themselves silly every day as long as they can trick themselves into believing that their bloated bodies are "normal." So very painfully modern, no?

Of course, the person who stands to gain the most from this is our own Richard Blakeley, who will probably sell more copies of the "This Is Why You're Fat" book because the "fat acceptance" crowd will want to sift through it looking for new recipes. And Oprah, America's thuggish overlord, will gain something from this, of course, because she always does.

Tossing the Diet Out and Embracing the Fat [New York Times]

And we were right, mostly! Julia found, by handily charting the mammoth volume of Us Weekly covers for the past three years, that indeed our interest in bigtop celebs seems to have waned, while we've all become mordantly fascinated with regular people who went fucknuts out of their minds and decided, against all reason, to sign reality show contracts.

Well, OK, actually the news is even more heartening than that! We're paying more attention to classic movie stars again, and, sadly, more attention to Jons & Kates. But! The brief reign of the Paris Hiltons and Kim Kardashians of the world—those who were famous for vague, unknowable reasons—looks to be coming to an end.

Good for us! Also, shame on us.

Thanks to Julia for the painstaking work.

The ultimate in speakeasy mystification takes place at PDT (Please Don't Tell) on St. Marks Place in the East Village. Patrons have to enter through Crif Dogs, the hip hot dog place, then step into a phone booth and identify themselves by speaking into the receiver. A buzzer opens a secret door, revealing a strange, twilight world where artisanal cocktails are consumed under the watchful eyes of a stuffed jackelope and raccoon, and a bear wearing a bowler hat.

If you're cool enough to drink there, this is totally old news. Now you have to find a new, more secret place. If you're only learning about it now, it's just another painful reminder that you are unfit to drink anywhere worth writing about. Either way, just give up.
[NYT. Pic via]

Is the best part when the students act out hugs as Chris Jansing describes them or is the best part the fact that everyone in America is a retard?

The Times investigates this startling new trend in wanton affection. When will the madness stop?

Girls embracing girls, girls embracing boys, boys embracing each other - the hug has become the favorite social greeting when teenagers meet or part these days.

Cats embracing dogs! Homosexuals embracing your child! And hey, what would a moral panic be without peer pressure, the proof that these are just good kids led astray?

A measure of how rapidly the ritual is spreading is that some students complain of peer pressure to hug to fit in.

Uh oh! But how does our dreadfully over-litigious nanny-state politically correct nation of lawyers fit in to all this?

And schools from Hillsdale, N.J., to Bend, Ore., wary in a litigious era about sexual harassment or improper touching - or citing hallway clogging and late arrivals to class - have banned hugging or imposed a three-second rule.

A three-second rule! Like your bro is a mere Jolly Rancher dropped in a hallway!

Ok we are not even going to get into the armchair sociology of it (organized play dates are to blame!) or the pop culture culprits (MTV invented the "bromance"!). No, this article is too stupid and anecdotal and pointless even to continue mocking. Those are all the hallmarks of a classic teenage moral panic story, but this is about hugging.

Not Pharm Parties! Or "Fruit Salad Parties"! Or those magical evenings we all remember from our school days when the ladies would apply all manner of fancy lipsticks and fellate our peers in sequence. The fun we had! Well apparently Oprah ruined that for everyone and today's teens are just grabbing each other in hallways like fucking Italians or something.

We've heard rumors (which we're trying to confirm) of at least two NYC media people who are trying to break into the liquor or beer business, either as investors or partners. It makes sense. Media jobs aren't secure. But selling booze is always secure—look how well the bootleggers did, even during the Depression! And who has their finger on the intoxicated pulse of drinkers' tastes more than a media person? No member of any other "professional" class, that's for sure!

Media workers [in the UK] are the biggest consumers of wine, drinking on average one and a half bottles a week. They are also the biggest drinkers of spirits, liqueurs and shots, taking on average 3.2 measures a week, finds the poll by YouGov for the government's Know Your Limits campaign.

People in the profession also drink 10 units more a week than the next heaviest drinking professionals – IT workers.

Bow down, IT workers! We applaud the entrepreneurial spirit of these forward-thinking moguls of the future. If you are a media person breaking into the booze industry—or know of any—email us and brag.

[Guardian UK. Pic via]

Mike Nelson is the big dude who's the subject of the FindHeMan.com stalker blog. But the joke is it's not that hard to find Mike really cause he spends a lot of time in Madison Square Park, sunning the guns and the lats and the chest and the other important He-Man parts. He lost one eye in a fight with cops and used to be a druggie but cleaned up. Now he doesn't do acid or coke or heroin or rob cemeteries for skulls any more; he just lives with his girl and works out and hangs out and basically goes with the flow:

"I took care of rabbits as a kid," Mr. Nelson recalled. Big smile. "So it taught me how to be a little more affectionate as I got older."

Not surprisingly, this exhibitionist ex-junkie bodybuilder who could go down on women "all day" is one of the least annoying people Spencer Morgan has profiled in the past year.
[NYO]

• Yesterday: Coffee is great for you unless you smoke.
• And they tell us cigarettes are racist!
• Today: San Francisco imposes a 33 cents per pack tax on cigarettes to pay for the cost of cleaning up the butts. That's the part we don't want, why are you making us pay?
• The new head of the CDC wants to shut down smoke shops on Indian reservations. But cigarettes are cheaper there!
• Oh and not only are cigarettes racist, they are also sexist, against women.

Fauxtrend 1: "Everywhere you turn this spring, there are baubles that look like Jujubes, jellies, licorice, even rock candy." Therefore, Americans love candy. Which leads to...

Fauxtrend 2: Fat People Yoga classes. Therefore, fat Americans are so ashamed of their appearances that they prefer to retreat into non-judgmental cocoons, where no one will mock the way they look. Which leads to...

Fauxtrend 3: "The après-sport sandal - [which] will give athletes post-sport relief and address some of the shortcomings of the typical flip-flop." Good lord, nobody should ever be seen in these monstrosities. When fat people slip these on after their non-judgmental yoga classes and emerge into the harsh wider world, they'll be relentlessly mocked, leading to depression, leading to food cravings. Which leads to....[BACK TO FAUXTREND 1].

The end—or just the beginning??

6. Olive Garden
14. Texas Roadhouse
19. Outback Steakhouse
24. IHOP
31. Macaroni Grill
72. Longhorn Steakhouse
73. Cheesecake Factory

Lesson: never underestimate the utilitarian appeal of unlimited bread sticks and salad. Related.

Raccoon Roundworm, or Baylisascaris infection, has been studied since at least 1951. Right now it's in Brooklyn, where it recently blinded (in one eye) a teenager and caused seizures, spinal problems and brain damage in an infant. Tragic. The New York Daily News ran the story late Sunday; the Associated Press has picked it up.

The disease in contracted through contact with raccoon feces or though contact with something else (soil, water) contaminated with feces. (Here's the CDC rundown.) There are fewer than 30 cases nationwide in the medical literature, according to the New York City Department of Public Health (via AP).

So probably you're fine, as long as you dispose of any raccoon feces using plastic gloves and bags before your children can get near it. And as long as you watch your back for any horrifying killer raccoons emerging from the sewer like hellspawn, as documented in this awesome Daily News picture:

THEY'RE OUT THERE. AND THEY JUST KEEP COMING.

The trend piece doesn't even get into voicemail, which we've established everyone but old people hates. But it explores the clash between people who text too much and too little. Elizabeth Fishkin, an advertising professional, thought she was a big texter, and dumped a guy who ignored her text messages, until she met a Twitter fanatic:

Nothing obsessive, maybe five times a day — she just likes the ease, the directness, the speed of the medium. Texting is her language.

"I thought, if this is going to be such an issue . . . " she says.

Months later: another date, another guy, another technological incompatibility. This time she was out with someone who wanted to text . . . everyone.

"He kept talking about Twitter." Fishkin rolls her eyes. "Ashton Kutcher. Twitter, Twitter, Twitter."

And what did it mean when Mary, the Drew Barrymore character in He's Just Not That Into You, got asked out via MySpace? That would be a dealbreaker for Marc Houston, another young single profiled in the story:

"No cellphone?" Houston cannot fathom a relationship like this. He would never, for example, date someone who refused to text. And someone who was still on MySpace instead of Facebook? "Oh, that would be an automatic reject," Houston says. "It's kind of like a unibrow." He pauses. "Maybe that's why I'm single."

Yes, that sounds about right. This story isn't really about technology. It's about neurotic thirtysomethings who will find some reason not to be in a relationship. And perhaps that's for the best: If you can't even agree on the medium through which you'll communicate, is there any chance you'll ever be able to work through real issues?

It's because all those cutbacks at Newsweek give Americans fewer chances to learn about The Historical Jesus.

...until she surfaces again, of course. But the meta-hipster grifter internet reaction will be short-lived until some actual news returns to revive it. The best the internet has offered so far: a few different unattractive t-shirts (depending on your taste! Some are better than others), with matching handbags. If you catch anybody wearing any of these items out in the wild, email us photos at once.

[Handjobwithmymouth.com certainly has bigger possibilities, though. Don't forget to give Doree a cut of all merchandise sales.]