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We, The Media

Not too long ago Andrew gave me the hat tip to join this Young Manhattanite scene with much less a few pot shots I took at easy targets. I guess I proved something because here I am posting my ish to the delight of at least one person: My mother (who has no idea what I do with my days in New York). As with most of my posting on the internet, I launch into it much the same way you reach into a garbage disposal to remove glass shards of a shot glass that fell in while you where grinding up some chicken bones and ice cubes. Rest assured I'm making that face and trying to keep the on/off switch far from my panicked thoughts.
--Jay

Meta-data has come to shape the world we inhabit when we go online. It has less to do with arbitrary information and is really the root structure of all activity. There are ways to manipulate aspects of appearance and presentation but there are also many ways to decode it. So much of our lives are steeped in this material. From our names to addresses, telephone numbers, bank account and credit card numbers, and even right down to our ISP addresses it is a false-positive to believe we can shape completely how others see us. It isn't so much about engaging in anonymous or identified commentary, nor is it about being honest or lying. It's knowing none of that exists as long as we keep putting more information about ourselves out there.

But what does meta-data tell us? Where can we find it? Usually it's just arbitrary code surreptitiously injected into just about everything we do on-line as well as off-line. It can follow us just as much as we can follow it. At first glance it tells us nothing but when we decode it, it shows us more about the context at large. Meta-data can be little more than time and date of an event, or as intrinsic as semiotic code embedded in an atmosphere of lascivious or lurid behavior. Many times it's used to cross-reference information, but occasionally it's used to uncover details not readily understood by naked inspection.

Awhile back a photograph surfaced on the internet, a screen grab of a 4chan comment thread. The original post was a picture of a razor blade and three lines of what looked like cocaine. In the post was a confessional boast admitting what a risk it was to be posting the shot. The following comments after began to question and finally expose the location of the original poster. The incriminating evidence was apparently extracted from the EXIF file's meta-data. By using global coordinates the anonymous commenters claimed it was taken in the location of the White House.

After that the screen cap floated through Reddit until it landed on BlackBook and Wonkette. Both sites discredited the exposure as a hoax (No one uses straight razor blades anymore.) Both pointed out data that suggested the physical location would be impossible for the White House to exist (49 meters above sea level). If anything it was a clever unmasking of what was just a concealed trick. A prank made to fool the unwitting into believing unsound things where going on behind closed doors in our nation's capital.

Another example of assessed meta-data involved pictures of the Abu Grahib abuse scandal. A number of detainees where mistreated and assaulted by the guards put in charge of them. The exposure of activity as well the investigation into the guard's treatment was all choreographed through the series of personal photographs the guards and fellow soldiers took during that time. What was a fray of activity, a gruesome depiction became more of a narrative once detectives lined up each piece of data along a uniform time-line. The horror was less sporadic but more damning to the guard's defense.

Both Abu Grahib and the 4chan post illustrate how a different and sometimes counter-story exists within the information being provided. That information reflects and often refracts our perceptions of the world. But how could we begin to understand or even get a hold of that perception? Plainly, we have to continue producing material to further the conversation. We have to inject more of ourselves into the embedded material. We have to further it along because it exists as long as we keep putting more information about ourselves out there.

Jim Behrle's Bullshit Blog

All you could ever want, here.

Kreepie Kats (2007-2010)

Haiku of the Day: "Vampire Weekend" starring Yoda

R.I.P. Jay Reatard

Today we mourn the passing of Jimmy Lee Lindsey, 29, who died where he was born, in Memphis, Tennessee. He was probably a GG Allin fan, and he was built in that same image, one that serves as particular inspiration to me and many of the people I admire: kicking, screaming, and (in this case) figuratively shitting all over everything he came into contact with. Maybe because he was angry, maybe because he sad, or scared, or maybe just to experience the rapture of coming into contact with life in a way few of us can or ever do: full. But mostly, likely, because this is just how he was built. And while - even if we don't - none of us are ever really all that far from feeling the way Jay Reatard felt, he was something I'll never be, and nobody I'll ever really know or be friends with will be, either: The Real McCoy, with a heart that pumped piss, vinegar and red hot blood, unstoppable by only a few things, this being one of them. Unfortunately, when guys like him die, it reminds us of the only thing on the horizon when living a life so feeling, the endgame of quagmire too many inspirations have been caught in the crossfire to prove, no mater how useless this life may or may not be:

There's nothing punk about being dead.


Jay Reatard - Fading All Away

State of the Internet, Part 6: That Time Things Weren't Awful

Announcements from the Class Secretary: We're making this one quick.

Apparently, every minute wasted on the internet tonight is another minute of effort to set me up with one of New York's Finest "Hebrarem" as a 12:01 makeout partner sullied. But 2009 was a hell of a year for YM. No?

We took over Deadspin and rocked the joint. Dash didn't even read it. Krucoff's now both the nicest and the most attractive out of any of us. Eli played a Elipalooza, and it was glorious. We've celebrated 9/11. If they didn't know - and they didn't - now they know: Bakes is a better writer than basically everyone.

2009 was the year the inconceivable was conceived, and then, carried out: the School of Hard YMocks graduated a writer all the way up Denton's ass, which was in the same twelve month span that person also got a job with Mohney, who came out for drinks with us. With Spiers. And neither of them beat Krucoff or 99 into a fine frappe, like they probably deserved. For those of you who've been reading YM for way too long, you know this is like one of those alternate futures in Sliders.

But 2009, I think, and I'm sorry to do this to all of you, was the year of FAMILY FIRST.

We can honestly say that YM-Tang grew by, like, 50%. What was once an elite club of fuckheads is now almost entirely a fairly nice group of likable, welcoming people only cared about by fuckheads. Like me.

Maura, Ryan, Michael, it's like, how did this ever happen without you? Even Paolo! And did you ever think you'd be a part of the day when Brian Van felt like, I don't know, a by-marriage relative of this stupid enterprise? While we're at it, Jay Casey, you're a fucking weirdo and you scare me, but no more than I ever scared Krucoff, so I guess you're kind of in on this, too. We even got an ombudsman who cares a lot, and might be right to. Maybe not! But still: family. There are most certainly others who I'm forgetting. Balk, John, Peter, Lilit, AJ, whatever, whoever. There're a lot of them. Sac's still a crunchy asshole which I guess we need, and if he'd ever stop being a pussy, he'd come out to New York so I could say it to his face. Curt was smart and got the fuck out of dodge, but you know what it's like, right? We'll get him back. And speaking of resolutions for 2009, maybe I'll even get Abe Sauer to write for us. Unlikely, but who knows? After the year of GAMECHANGER, pretty much anything can happen.

Anyway. Thank you, all. It's been a good year for family. Truly.

Fly High, AltaBird

Goddamn. To think, it feels like it was only yesterday as Andrew was violated "just enough" when Bakes got snuck in through the back porch. Little did we know she'd get the master bedroom, and get a mud room installed, too. As the Deputy Undersecretary of Clusterfuckery Cheer around these parts, I hereby declare today The Opening Of Skiing Season.

What We Talkin' About - Jay-Z

I support journalism by paying for it, do you?

After the latest brouhaha brewed regarding "The Junket Generation"—when 150 media folk gladly went on an all expense paid trip provided and paid for by Thrillist, Jet Blue, Starbucks and Sandals Resorts—I'd like to report that I support journalism by paying for it too.

Do you?

Apparently, There Are Such Things As Halfway Crooks

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: MediastarsPR@aol.com
Date: Mon, Oct 12, 2009 at 10:11 AM
Subject: amazing item for you!!!
To: Foster

Fag... Your buddy Neel will never marry you and Richard will never hire you. So stop licking their ass. It's really creepy bro.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Foster
Date: Mon, Oct 12, 2009 at 1:06 PM
Subject: Re: amazing item for you!!!
To: MediastarsPR@aol.com

Bro? BRO! Bro. You sure about Neel? He's responded to my advances fairly well.

His eyes are swollen with love. This has been an ongoing campaign, and I won't negotiate with naysayers. As for Richard, to Six, perchance to dream, but (A) I lick everyone's ass without discretion and (B) ask around, Ghost of Blogebrity Past: I'm very, very happy where I am, and I intend to stay there for a long time. Much as I enjoy items about Sartre's cock, I'd much rather read them than write them. You know what they say about meeting your heroes: they won't actually let you lick their ass.

You want creepy? Try this on: anonymous nobodies from the Daily News (or their ilk) emailing me from an AOL address. It's 2009, GeriatricBro. Get better game, or GTFO.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: MediastarsPR@aol.com
Date: Mon, Oct 12, 2009 at 1:13 PM
Subject: Re: amazing item for you!!!
To: Foster


again.... CREEPY!

Stay where you are? haha
Where are you? Land of the lost, sad and desperate bloggers. haha
"Maybe if I'm really mean to people I blog about and if I'm really snarky and clever, I'll earn enough money to upgrade to a new IPOD!

Good luck, umm bro?

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Foster
Date: Mon, Oct 12, 2009 at 1:28 PM
Subject: Re: amazing item for you!!!
To: MediastarsPR@aol.com

If only I could upgrade to a new iPod. I can't even upgrade past the Graham stop. Thankssss, bro?

--------------------------------------------

Jamie T - Sticks and Stones

Related: At Least Serena Torrey's a Decent Writer.

Budget Altarcations: You Didn't Meet a Girl on Nantucket When You Were 13, and Now You Never Will

Weddings are to be held only on weekends, and so it must be for Altarcations too. Technical difficulties prevented me from sending in my weekly opus "on time", although for the record, the column in its heyday USED to be published at like 4pm on Monday afternoons. I'm just saying. But so, here you go, I guess. I wrote this on Sunday and I'm too lazy to edit. To the five people who will read this: enjoy!

***

Good evening, lovers! This week's installment of Altarcations is going to be somewhat brief, because I went to this kickass engagement party last night and I'm still hungover -- they were serving beverages named after the grandmother of the bride, which tells you all that you need to know.

So! The engagement party was beautiful and the couple darling, so as a wise literary figure once wrote, I believe in love! And so I have to admit: the story of Kelly Morgan and Timothy Maciejak made me super wistful. The two "met on Nantucket in the summer of 1994 outside Aunt Leah's Fudge shop. Ms. Morgan was 12, and Mr. Maciejak was 13." He tossed over a piece of paper with his phone number on it and then ran away! She called him and they met at the fudge shop the next day! He was five inches shorter than her! I bet they stared at the ground and kicked SO MANY rocks that day. God, remember tweenage summers? It really never gets any better, or maybe it just never gets any worse.

Here's a journalistic scandal worthy of Deadspin: winsome hockey broadcast reporter skates a little TOO close to her subject, falling in love with NHL defenseman Jay Leach while covering his team. What's next: Suzyn Waldman shacking up with A-Rod? (One can only hope, if only for the sake of Kate Hudson's career.) But New Jersey Devil Jay Leach wasn't even the best skater to get hitched this weekend, because the Ottawa Senator's Ryan Shannon also tied the knot and he has, like, better stats. Two puckhandlers in one day! Gary Bettman's PR office must be working overtime. While we're on the subject, I would like to note that Chris Higgins is about to replace David Wright as New York's hottest young athlete. I'm serious about this. You read it here first, folks!

Speaking of winter recreation, I'm trying to figure out which Utah ski resort Anita Kawatra was visiting when she "fell head over heels" literally and figuratively (isn't it always?) for Keith Palzer. I'd assume Deer Valley, because its resort-y luxury would probably befit a man who is "the director of product development in the alternative investments hedge fund group at the Merrill Lynch division of the Bank of America in Manhattan". (What's wrong with the catchall "he's in finance"?) On the other hand, I could see him trying to pump up his skier cred by going to Alta but then, like, staying at the Rustler. Fuckin' gaper. At any rate, you gotta admire Keith's persistence: he "finessed an invitation to her birthday party and a ski trip she had planned with friends" before inviting her on a romantic getaway and telling her he loved her on Day 2, and he also "squired her around New York in a wheelchair" and tended to her when she was on crutches for "nearly 2 years" (!) after she took a digger on the slopes. You can never go wrong with the damsel in distress storyline. Oh yeah and PS: David Dinkins officiated.

Finally, trend alert: the Times historically seems to have a thing for people involved in the artistic orgasm that is Sesame Street. This weekend Elizabeth Nealon, the former creative director on the show (is that really a job, and how can I have it? And also, I hope she was responsible for this!) married "an author of science books for children, including 'Dolphins' and 'The Human Body'" who is 23 years her senior. Is that not the cutest thing you've ever heard? The dude's other books are absolutely killing me. Other selected titles: "Lightning", "Pets in a Jar" (!!!), "Icebergs and Glaciers" -- I honestly think I read that one; I went through a phase -- and, heh heh, "Uranus". When I have kids, I am shipping them off to that couple's house in lieu of summer camp. Related: speaking of the 'Street, the girl in the beginning of this segment is a dead ringer for Jessi from NYC Prep, amirite?

Elsewhere this weekend, two art gallery types (Vassar and Bard, obvs) were married by "a minister of the National Spiritual Science Center"; a hot couple met at Harvard, "from which they both received MBA's"; the son of the SEC chief from 2002-2005 profited from your unemployment; we learn that Jonah Hill's "second father" was The Fonz and that The Fonz's actual offspring is a total freeloader; and someone descended, like so many testicles, from "Roger Williams, the founder of Rhode Island".

This week's head to head battle pits a literary wunderkind with some Obama wannabes (tounge twister!) Who will win?

Lauren D'Elia and Matthew Pressman

• Wedding took place at a "Beach and Tennis Club": +1
• The bridegroom "is an assistant editor at Vanity Fair, the Conde Nast magazine": +2
• The bride's father is "a founding partner" of a real estate law firm: +2
• The bridegroom's father is "a founding partner" of a Cambridge law firm: +2
• Oddly, the announcement makes sure to state that the bride "will be taking her husband's name": -1
• The pair met on a Dartmouth orientation hiking trip (they refer to each other as "trippees") and started dating a month into college: +3, and also: at Yale those people were called FOOTies and did weird things like get together on Saturday nights to play wink murder and eat GORP, and they were kind of weird, so actually I retract those points so: +0
• Both graduated magna cum laude: +4
• The wedding was on a Sunday, which is annoying: -1

TOTAL: 9

Courtney Dankworth and Russell Capone Jr.

• "Both received law degrees cum laude from Harvard, where they met while serving in succession as managing editors of the Harvard Law Review": +10

TOTAL: 10. Harvard wins. Harvard always wins.

Rachelle Hruska, Dear (Or: "I Am Using Your Name In The Title Of This Post To Ensure The Words "Your Name" Appear Well-Regarded By Google")

Isn't the left-side beautiful? Writing something here is the difference in between climbing into a fluffy, cool, made bed, and laying your head to rest on a pile of angry, craggy rocks.

Anyway. I guess this is where I'm supposed to take the (Kosher-certified/Omaha) beef, right? I was going to wait a week to do this, but in a week this thing would be long gone (and thus, maybe, kinda new again). Two days after and now it's just tired, totally uninteresting, and something we've all moved on from. This is my version of totally burying a news cycle via quicksand effect. Of course, there's that other way of doing it, by just shutting the fuck up, but in the grand tradition of people who can't shut the fuck up (namely: everyone reading this), that's just not gonna to happen.

I've already said: I've had a great time. And if none of the involved parties enjoyed this, you are joyless, sad, and angry. There's been a lot of blood pressure raised over this! I got a stern talking-to in a clurrb! And I'm not going to get into who's "right" and who's "wrong," first, because the only people worth listening to about being right are - and forgive the Garrison Keeler-esque folksy shit here - people who are capable of admitting that they're wrong, who are also (like people who can shut the fuck up) in short demand around these parts. No, the only way to measure this thing is by who "won," and when I say "won," I mean, out of all the people I've interacted with in the last week, who has the lowest blood pressure that isn't plagued by pre-existing medical condition (hypotension, namely). I'm just going to start walking around with one of those portable monitors and being all like "Gimme your arm!" Creepy, yes, but also: statistically effective. And we know how I love me some stat porn (Nic will get this).

Anyway. Here's the email I sent to Rachelle Hruska, and the response I got back. I'm not linking shit. If you're here, you know what happened by now.

1. BlackBook definitely pays guest contributors (well-documented dispute with an in-breach freelancer aside).
2. Real talk: "Largely unpaid staff" is the quote I got from the Times, which you assured me time and time again was "real journalism" and then put me on blast for using that line as a source of information. If other "real journalism" needs to be called up and double-checked, how real is it? If the Times got the story right, they would've written about your "largely paid and cared for" staff and the "largely unpaid content" you receive from friendly contributors on the site. Right? What if I'm not the only reader who drew the conclusions from the Times piece that I did? Should they all call you, too?
3. Paying for writers and paying for journalism are two totally different things. I'm not paid for journalism. I'm paid to blog. Ask anybody at Gawker if they'd call themselves journalists; ask Nick if he'd call any of his writers journalists, I can't imagine he would. [I read the Howard Kurtz piece after writing this. In it, Denton notes that any journalism that happens at Gawker is incidental.] Would you call yourself a journalist? Anybody coming to Gawker for New York Times-level reportage might be a little off the mark (then again, Jayson Blair, so, you know, that whole thing) - they have an obligation towards liability. Gawker's been wrong before; as you said this morning, so have you. Now: let's say an organization only writes what they get straight from the subject (inherently biased in the subject's direction) without providing their readers with context or opinion. Then they're writing press releases and being a mouthpiece of the subject. And what's uglier: an outlet tethered to the information it gets from the subject (and nothing else) or one that can see around the interference the subject's going to post?
4. You blasted me for not calling you before I was going to run my piece. You didn't call me! :(
5. I wouldn't compare what I did to Fox News. Mean! I'm not exploitative and nor do I pride on hurting people; I'd call it ribbing at best and digging into at worst. Fox News is malicious. You know that.
6. You misspelled "plesant." I only care about this because it was the one nice thing I got said about me! Although, in all honesty, I'm probably more plesant than I am pleasant.

Other than that, you were definitely right about the following things:

1. "Populist demagoguery" is pretty much the name of the game with every Gawker Media site [especially those vigilant fucking gadget nerds]. That's what I get paid to do, though, that being said, it's not always the populist fire I'm feeding (sometimes, if you've ever read anything by Gawker's frightening weekend commenters, you'd see it's an anarchist minority. They're a readership worth worrying about). Also, what a phrase to use! Whether or not you give a shit about journalism, the writing is most definitely there. [Though I will say, the Sunday Styles specializes in a certain kind of dem-a-gog-ur-y, though most of their readers would think that's a new skin treatment.]
2. "As you know from the Times piece, I left a secure job in finance to take on tremendous risk and a drastic pay cut to build GofG. As it stands, the world we live in isn’t perfect and the income disparity between industries does not always seem “fair” or “right.” A discourse on the root of the problem is probably one that exceeds the scope of both your and my skill sets." (A) It's admirable, and I've said as much often, and (B) you're absolutely right on all counts here.
3. And as Rachel Sklar will be very quick to tell you, I'm still very much a beginner at this. You know this is my seventh weekend, right? I've done some pretty great things (most recently: scooped everyone on the sale of VSL to the Observer, on a Sunday, no quotes required. And I was right!), but when you're writing Gawker single-handedly, nine to thirteen posts a day, and trying to do it during the weekends, your ability to get quotes is limited. (Cajun Boy has the same problems at night [though he did manage to get ahold of the Megan Fox-fatkid-fan identifier!]; but the Gawker Manna From The Gods - the Sunday Times - isn't coming out for him every night). Does that mean I shouldn't write the stories? Shit, I hope not. In both cases, I could've gotten quotes from you and Sklar, and maybe I was wrong for not making a good faith attempt on both ends (though the situation with Sklar is TOTALLY different; she didn't have the information on you - the Times article - out there on her). So: I'm still learning. Isn't that nice, though? There're worse things than a guy who can take his licks and roll with 'em as lessons thereafter. Nice job. We can buy each other rounds 'next time. -f.

Her response to me, below. My comments in bold.

1. i was talking about their interns- i know a couple they are not paid WTF?
2."I understand how the line in the NYTimes article that described GofG as having a staff “largely unpaid” reads, however, your interpretation and understanding of this quotation is incomplete. This quotation, admittedly deserving clarification, attempts to convey the user-generated component of our content structure." id you read that? I did, but Hruska's the one comparing me to the "real journalism" of the Times that needs clairification. Also, funny aside, though: assuming you do pay four people, the Huffington Post only pays five. So you're still better than her.
3 this is much longer discussion
4.i posted on my wee tumblr, not a site that gets --what is it 22 million hit snow? Fuck if I know. Denton probably piles on the numbers anyway. I think he told Sharon Waxman over eggs that we're more read than Google, or something, and she believed it. Which is superb.
5. feelings have nothing to do with this-it's factss I first read that as "fatass," so maybe I'm just projecting. But yes, factss.
6. thank you i fixed and you are pleAsant:) For my first club-oriented altercation, you were as well. I fully expect Rachel Sklar to shake me out over a roof like Suge Knight next time, though.

Are we done?

Heart Of The City (Ain't No Love) - Jay-Z feat. The Roots

State of the Internet, Part 4: Resolve, Questionable Or Otherwise, Revisited.

Sometime in December, I decided I was going to put together a three-part series on the Way Things Are Now versus The Way They Were and The Way We Want Them To Maybe Be. Things were really fucking bad in December, and they continued to get worse for a while, and it was a long, long goddamn winter for many of us. For example: Did you know that I almost quit media/New York/writing and was this close to moving back to Asheville in February? You do, now! Others, though: not so much! Anyway, the project fell by the wayside and/or victim to the KB, like so many of the other things we tend to do around here. When the B-Side boxed set comes out, god. damn.

But here we are! In the spirit of the left-side revival, I've dug deep and re-animated this fucker, this beast, this three-part series, one part of which was written in the back seat of a car in a trip from Miami to Tampa that involved Taco Bell and a fear that I would never sleep again.

Before going home for the holidays, I contacted a nice sample of media people who had seen some degree of success (or tragedy) over the course of the last year. These are the ones who got back to me with their New Years resolutions. I would provide context for them, but they're all invited to please pitch in on the comments, and let us know (in their own words) how they're doing. And if they won't, I'm sure someone will. L'chayim!

Keith Gessen, Author of "All The Sad Young Literary Men": I've given this a lot of thought and in truth my plans for the coming year for the Tumblr and my ongoing war with the internet are complicated and contradictory. Mostly they involve staying away from it and that as much as possible. On the other hand, I put some porn up the other day--and, I have to say, that was fun. I'm not promising anything. But--keithgessen.tumblr.com. Happy New Year.

Rex Sorgatz, Spencer Morgan profilee: I resolve to never again find myself in a circular, incestuous, flaming, anonymous, insidery, hate-bating, clusterfucking, lulzing, tumbletarding "online debate" held on some stupid blog's comment thread. FUCK. YOU.

Caroline McCarthy, cNet reporter, "The Social": A few months ago I realized I walk around with my fists clenched. I don't see how this could possibly be a good thing. My New Year's resolution is to stop walking around with my fists clenched. I know it sounds lame but it's a big deal for me, really.

Jeff Rosenthal of The Real: This past year, I spent too much time trying to be like Julia Allison. No, I didn't drink BluePrint cleanses; I didn't pretend to enjoy Mary Rambin's company; but I, like Julia, didn't get paid for my internet venture. So, next year, I hope that changes. [Or: "2008 was, for me, all about being a Microcelebrity. Next year, I hope to be Internet Famous."]

Will Leitch, columnist at New York Magazine: In 2008, I went to two foreign countries (bringing my lifelong total to "four"), switched jobs, spent a month-and-a-half driving across the country, parried threats of bodily harm by a future NFL Hall of Famer, was called a racist on National Public Radio, and made lifelong enemies with a legendary rapper, a diminutive sportscaster, a Pulitzer Prize winner and a billionaire. What do I want from 2009? I want to sleep.

Alex Blagg, lead editor at Wonderwall: I just hope that in 2009, someone comes up with yet even more new ways for me to pointlessly consume and disseminate information on the Internet. There's still a solid 20 - 30% of my day that I spend "unplugged", totally unsure of what to do with myself, terrified I might be missing something somebody said about someone. Please, half-baked young social networking start-up people who favor fashion accessories and the arbitrary omission of vowels - help me.

Jeff Bercovici, formerly of Mixed Media at Portfolio, currently of Daily Finance: Oh, man. I had a resolution but I already forgot it. Seriously. 2009 is not off to a good start.

Ana Marie Cox, Wonkette emereti, Daily Beast contributor: I resolve to not work for a dying publication or industry ever agai--- oh, wait...

Sheila McClear, Gawker emereti, ASSME and Daily Beast contributor: OK! Starting January, I'll be exploring the annals of unemployment for the first time in eighteen months. I'm thinking of taking up new hobbies that could serve as income-generators, mostly involving the off-track betting parlor in Greenpoint. I won $7 on a scratch-off the other day, but it just wasn't enough of a rush. I would also like to cut down on benzos and blogging.

Okkervil River - The Latest Toughs

Previously: "This Year"

Who's House?

Artist's rendering via NVC.

Holy shit. I'm clearing out the cobwebs here. It's been so long since I've taken to the left side/since Paolo first blogjacked it that the floorboards are all creaky and I just got some dust up my snooter and ACHHLEW! [Ed. Gesundheit!] Speaking of which, there's a party tonight: it's Katie's birthday! And speaking of skiing, Katie's a great skier. Srsly!

Anyway: this reminds me of that time, like, a few weeks ago, when I offered the backchannel an opportunity to hold a roast for 99 at his birthday party (predictably, at Joe's, The Most Depressing Bar On 6th Street That Isn't The Cherry Tavern). Nobody responded, so for his birthday, he ended up with one drink (purchased by me, which does nothing to chip away at a year's worth of YM-subsidized booze) and an email full of bad police brutality jokes.

As for Bakes, I would roast her, but it's hard! For example, my source material:

• She has this innane obsession with Mickey Kaus that I really don't understand.
• Did you know there was once a picture of her in Business Week when she was like, ten, because she ran some kind of forum for thicknecked Rangers fans on Prodigy or something? Truth!
• She also has friends who don't work in media, and she doesn't work in media, which makes her media fetish as unhealthy, strange, and worrysome as Curt's. That being said, if she ever gets a job in media, I'm leaving New York: that'd be like going home from college to find out the Girl Next Door got addicted to Oxycotin after hanging out with all the bad kids for so long and managing to completely stay out of trouble. DO NOT WANT.
• I can't think of a single person who doesn't like her, which sounds like non-compliment, but around these parts, it's really not. Also, she taught me what advertorial was and didn't make fun of me for not knowing sooner for more than, like, a week.
• Katie's the kind of person that can survive having a facist roommate without bludgeoning them, which is also impressive. This actually happened, and the worst thing Bakes really ever did about it was break down the door to her apartment, which she contends was not an act of agression so much as the need to go to the bathroom. She's even too nice to admit that she was raging against the (Jewish NeoCon) machine.
  
• She devotedly wears her Giants jersey when she watches games at home.
  
• Her dogs smell (or: look like they smell) and she likes them anyway.
  

The point is, there's really not that much to roast Katie over, or maybe there is, but really, like, how could you? Anyway. She's (predictably) having another party at Barramundi and I fully intend on buying her and her charitable cause a drink. She is wonderfully smart, talented, a great friend, by far, the funniest writer on the YM masthead and inextricably (maybe, for her - and especially for Dave - tragically) part of the family. Katie, you might be a shiksa, but you're our shiksa*, goddamnit. This joint goes out to you:



*But Bakes is not the only shiksa in the YM-Tang Clan! I'm not sure exactly what persuasion Spiers is, but she probably renounced it, like, nine years before you've even heard of it, anyway.

NYC Ballet Dancers: When We Were Kids

There's been some talk here lately about the ballet. I offered a reminder about the $25 orchestra seat tickets made available by the NYC Ballet every week for each performance. Fek announced that he "recently went to see a set of four variations at ABT. we got $25 tickets and ended up in the second row of the met. i wore a suit. it was classy." He's right, it is classy. How about taking a peek inside the NYC Ballet?

Baltimore Is the New Brooklyn*

Read this tweet: "Uh, called it a million years ago? RT @mindykaling: Just read that MIA has deemed Baltimore the new Brooklyn." and was like hmm...when did that happen? Searching on Google, I didn't find any reference. The video above popped up, as did this Brooklyn VS Baltimore sheet, as well as these photos from an awesome Brooklyn VS Baltimore battle of the bands here in Bushwick. What what Brooklyn represent! Onward to Baltimore! (I hear Cherry Hill is up and coming and might be getting a cheese shop/gourmet ice cream truck, with a Twitter!)

*for white people.

p.s. Baltimore, Im sorry.