The former New York City mayor spoke at a press conference at the Ohio Victory campaign’s grassroots leadership conference Saturday. Giuliani was asked what he would say to columnists who’ve criticized John McCain’s selection of Palin, such as Kathleen Parker, George Will and David Frum.

“I think they look like a bunch of jerks after the debate the other night,” Giuliani said. “I think they should all say they made a mistake.”

[Politico]

Lorillard doesn't have to market disproportionately to African-Americans, because the market share of menthols in the black community is already massive. Look at Orlowsky's own math:

The truth is that there are twice as many Caucasian menthol cigarette smokers as there are African-American menthol cigarette smokers.

African-Americans are about 13% of the US population. Whites are about 74%. There are roughly six times more whites than blacks in the US, but only two times more white menthol smokers. Disparity? Duh.

Targeting the youth?

Heavily-advertised Marlboro, Camel and Newport cigarettes dominated the teen smoking market between 1989 and 1996, according to a new study, which found that the percentage of teen Newport smokers doubled during those years.

Newport made its most significant inroads with the white and Hispanic teen market, say Karen Gerlach, Ph.D., M.P.H., of the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation and colleagues. Their study appears in the American Journal of Health Behavior.

Newport cigarettes contain menthol, which may make them less harsh-tasting and easier for experimenting teens to smoke, Gerlach and colleagues say. They also suggest that expanded advertising campaigns may have helped increase the brand’s popularity.

Nobody has to target underage smokers. Target 18-year-old smokers! Their kid brothers will totally pick it up.

[CAOH; letter via Multicult Classics]

The young man was a Tucker fan, and quit a real job to go be a paid assistant on the set of Tucker's film, where we pick up his experiences:

I quit my stable job at a publishing house and moved out there. He said I could stay at his house, but when I arrived he made me sleep in the backyard the first night. Tucker had other assistants but I detected animosity right from the start. One guy continually tried to commit assault on me. I figured because of my lesser stature it was all part of the "breaking in" process. Well, 5 days into production, I'm being threatened with crossbows and berated at every turn. Tucker has me doing ridiculous tasks like getting him water at a perfect temperature. The first few times he'd say it was 10 degrees too hot. I knew he was joking, but I'd take it back and add some of the cold water (which I realize is poposterous, but if you'd seen this guy he'd sic on me with choke holds or really hard arm punches, you'd understand). Finally on day 8, I bring him a paper cup filled with water; he takes a sip and throws it right in my face. I practically fell over a chair. This was in front of Jesse Bradford who even cautioned Tucker that it was a little too far. Tucker told Jesse to shut up, and then Nils (the "other" Tucker) intervened.

After two weeks of constant abuse, including Tucker letting me use the bathroom in his house, which had his shit in the toilet that he didn't flush. I quit on the spot. Nils first tried to comfort me by saying that Tucker is a jerk, and that it wasn't worth quitting over. I said I understood until HE confides that it was him that left the gigantic log in the toilet for me.

I understand that guys like to laugh and joke and get along. I do the same thing with my friends. On the IHTSBIH set, however, it was a very different story. These people weren't funny. They were "fratastic" in that douchebag sense. On my last day on set I talked to Matt Czuchry, who I got to know rather well. He told me that the Hollywood business was cut throat, and that he'd had his share of lumps. He said everyday he was losing respect for Tucker and that he worried this role my be career ending because the character doesn't have any redeeming qualities. Actually, he said the character Tucker as it was written might appear to, but after studying Tucker himself, he realized the guy was a fucking prick.

You'll notice there are no party picks of Tucker and the actors after the first week or so. This is not a coincidence. I've never been so incensed with an individual. Perhaps I was asking for it, chasing a pipe dream with no regard, but nobody should have to deal with what I did. I haven't even scratched the surface...

I'm done with the fucking asshole for good. I've found a new job, similar to what I'm doing before, but I don't' think I'll ever forget the sheer humiliation I faced.

After quitting, the assistant sent Tucker a pretty polite email asking for his check, and wondering if Tucker would be putting up any photos of him in the film's Flickr page. The response:

From: Tucker Max
Date: Mon, Aug 11, 2008 at 10:19 PM
To: [Former assistant]

It's not MY fault you couldn't hack it. Don't come crawling back AND don't waste my time with bullshit promises if you wont back them up. You know something about photos? The person who takes them — or the person who employs the person who takes them — owns the copyright. I OWN THEM. You want them? Pay me.

You want your money? Jeff has it. Get it from him. I warn you, he's been in an extra bad mood lately.—

"...highly entertaining and thoroughly reprehensible..."
-NY Times describing TuckerMax.com

He asked for his check to be mailed to him, and said that he just wanted the photos to show his friends. Tucker wasn't fooled:

From: Tucker Max
Date: Thurs, Aug 14, 2008 at 5:20 PM
To: [Former assistant]

You want the photos so you can cry to Gawker. I didn't get where I am today by being a moron. You'll get your photos like everybody else – when the movie is done shooting.

Jeff will be passing through your area after we wrap. He'll hand deliver the money. We'll bring a camera along for the DVD extras. Now stop fucking bothering me.—

"...highly entertaining and thoroughly reprehensible..."
-NY Times describing TuckerMax.com

[DISCLAIMER: My personal belief is this story is authentic, though as some commenters have pointed out, it could be some ruse by Tucker fans to plant a fake story. Though, counterpoint: the story makes Tucker sound bad, not good, so if it were a plant (and we've seen some bad attempts), it would be a stupid one. Verdict: Real in my considered judgment, but if not, I hope Tucker writes a triumphant note soon so that we can mock it.]

Excuse me? Did you write the email below, or am I seeing things? Is this a joke?

Have you let the very small amount of fame—that I am almost entirely
responsible for—really go that much to your fucking head that you
think you can talk to me that way?

If you don't like our arrangement, if you don't like that fact that I
found you as a complete nobody doing nothing and have given you the
opportunity to reach the world, then you can go back to where you were
when I found you.

In fact, thats a good idea. You go ahead and go your own way. Let's
see how you do when you don't have anyone to blame but yourself.

Tucker's advice to Woods on how to make more money? An "offer to 'let' me drop out of college and become a prison guard so I could make another $100 writing for a different Rudius site."

• Amazon has deleted negative reviews of Tucker's book, for unknown reasons. Conspiracy?
• Tucker plagiarized a line in his script about "man talk" from this scene in the movie Goldfinger.
• Tucker stole some guy's fiancee over the internet (though we are suspicious of this one, because it had a rather suspect tone of "no woman can resist Tucker's sex charms").
• "It is apparent from his you tube videos that Tucker Max mistreats his cast by letting them injure themselves in their off time. One of his actresses severely bruised her leg while dancing in a bar." We have not watched said videos. Volunteers?
• Tucker has stolen story ideas from other websites. WE WILL NOT READ ALL OF HIS STORIES IN ORDER TO VERIFY THIS. Sorry.
• Tucker's network of websites, Rudius Media, is run by a cheap bastard named Tucker Max. One ex-Rudius blogger wrote about his experience of trying to get paid for six months of steady blogging work, and finally receiving the check: "Think of a very very very low number. Then divide it in half. That’s about how much I got paid. Odds are, you may still be thinking of too high a number." We hear the sum was less than $100 for six months.
• Two sample (very unverified) incidents taken from the blog Tucker Max Is A Douchebag:

  Tucker gets in an altarcation with a woman at a bar:

  Tucker threw his drink at her, Candice threw her drink at Tucker with lightning fast reflexes, then he proceeded to grab Megan by her hair and hit her in the face with his pathetically small hands. With a bruised face, and a bruised ego, he took his shriveled penis back to his buddies.

  A longtime member of the Tucker Max message boards bemoans the fact that Tucker has allowed his fame go to his head:

  The more I thought about it, however, the more the fact that TM is basically lying in his stories began to bother me. His whole hook is that these stories are “true.” Anyone could just make this shit up and pass it off as fiction, it would get e-mailed around a few times and be forgotten. But Tucker presents it as true, that it actually happened to him, and it didn’t, he’s lying and that’s unacceptable. What gets Tucker his attention is people going “Man, I can’t believe that this actually happened to someone, that shit is so crazy!! I wish I were him.” In short, he was interesting because he represented something that many people wish they were but don’t really have the balls to be. Unfortunately, he wasn’t really that person, Tucker is more a persona than anything else.

• "I have a friend who used to go to Duke with Tucker; he told me that Max likes to feed on the souls of kittens and the tears or orphaned children."

Feel free to write in, Tucker.

[pic via Underage Lolita]

A tipster forwarded us the following text, which they say is an entry that was deleted from Tucker Max's ex-girlfriend's blog. We don't follow the man's love life closely enough to know whether this is true, but the blog does have Tucker Max listed as its contact person. Portions of this post have been floating around the internet for some time now. That's our disclaimer. Now here's the alleged Tucker Max love experience:

Humiliating
Last night Tucker blew me off. Again.

I went insane. I cut off all my hair with kitchen scissors like Frida Khalo.
Today I examined the fallout (actually quite cute and flippy. I am good at
everything). I also thought, "Bunny... there is something terribly awry. Why
are you so angry? Why have you become a bitter and horrible person since you
met Tucker?"

Today, while I'm working, Tucker is hovering over me asking me the same
question.

I have decided to make an itemized list of reasons why I might want to cut
off all my hair like a rape victim.

[Note: This is truly humiliating. If anyone were to make a medicine to cure
low self-esteem, I'd take it in spades; I'd do the 10k walk for closet
self-loathers, and wear the empty wine bottle lapel pin. I wish to God these
FACTS were fabricated or embellished, but the awful truth is that they are
not. I only hope this helps the other girls who don't like themselves].

What it is like to date Tucker Max.

-You will get fried chicken for your birthday. Later that night when you
both go to a bar, you will want a diet coke, but won't get one because that
is one less beer that he can drink.

-He will hang up on your favorite aunt, and be stunned when you get upset
that he referred to your mother as "that fucking bitch" because she called
you at a late hour.

-He will scream at you because you don't like the instant coffee he bought
you.

-He will never kiss you, and barely fuck you, even if you beg him to for
months. You are now the Virgin Mary. He will still try to coerce crazy
whores into coming to Chicago to fuck him. He will kiss them because they
are whores, and don't you know that you're only supposed to give good
passionate sex to women that you don't know or give a shit about? I didn't
know that either.

-You will beg him to take a shower, which he will not do. But he will shave
his face to have long make-out sessions with any random girl.

-You will read every piece of writing he has ever done and be supportive of
all his creative outlets. When you then ask him to read your own novel he
will drop it after chapter one because it's a waste of his time. He's not
good at editing.

-You will give him the greatest head of his life on a regular basis. He will
still suck in bed.

-He will make sure you know that you aren't very hot, only sort of cute, and
that your head is too big for the rest of your body. You also have
unattractive dark circles under your eyes and your tits are too small. He
will never compliment you.

-You will be bi-sexual and okay with him sleeping with other women, but this
will not be enough. He needs freedom.

-If he is an insensitive asshole to you, it is only because you are selfish.
You should understand that his parents sucked and now you have to pay for
this. How this is logical, I'm not really sure.

-When he has major surgery you will not leave his side. You will spend day
night waiting on him hand and foot, making sure he is comfortable and well
cared for. You will even wipe his ass when he takes a shit. Later he will
tell you that it was all unnecessary. He didn't need or want you to be
there.

-When he is supposed to pick you up and take you to a party, he will get
black-out drunk and fuck some girl instead of showing up.

-He will tell you he loves you and wants to have children with you. When you
then get pregnant, he will say that he has about two to four more years of
drinking and whoring left to do, so a baby isn't in the cards. He will
coerce you into an abortion by threatening to give away your dog if you try
to have the child. Then he will be evasive so that you will be forced to
dump him and he can get off scot-free.

-When you get upset about this, he will tell you that you are
over-emotional. When you try to explain how this hurts, he will ignore you
till you find yourself screaming and breaking things. He will explain these
outbursts to his drinking buddies as so: "Yeah she's fucking crazy. She
flips out on me like every third day."

-When you go to stay with your parents (read: bawl day and night) for two
weeks, he will fuck other women in your bed. The night you return he will
try to go out with a whore he's just met and wonder why you're upset about
that. He needs his freedom.

-When you are at your parents, he won't take your calls. Instead he will
spend his time e-mailing some whore. Later, he will not stop e-mailing this
same whore, because all whores come before your feelings even if the whores
are half as attractive and barely capable of forming cogent sentences.

-When his ex-girlfriend dies and then comes back to life, you will nurse him
through the depression. You will even be fine with her coming to stay at
your own fucking apartment so that he can decide which of you he wants. This
is so that you can be fair to both of them because you are a good person.
unlike them.

-Later on you will catch him telling this covert bitch who pretended to be
nice to you that he is only keeping you around because you are willing to
support him financially. They will laugh at you behind your back for being
"over-emotional." Oh how silly you are!

-When Tucker bounces back from his depression you will not be needed
anymore. You will just hand over the keys to his car and not say a word when
he drives it all over Chicagoland while black-out drunk.

-When girls come to the apartment, he will become "Cooooool Tucker Max." He
will dress and act differently. He will be an asshole to you. Why are you
upset? Don't you know "this is the Tucker Max show?" This pathetic statement
is his actual quote.

-And finally (though I could write pages and pages of this horrible shit):
When you've been stood up by the very first date you've planned in a year,
you will call Tucker and ask to hang out with him. He will not come pick you
up in YOUR OWN FUCKING CAR, because HE lost your license the night before
and you won't be able to get into the club he's going to. When you ask if it
's possible to go anywhere else he will refuse because there are free drinks
and whores in said club. Whores are very special. Much more special than the
woman that did all the above things out of unconditional love FOR A FUCKING
YEAR!

posted by The Bunny at 4:22 PM

Answering these and other urgent queries was Karin Miller, 43, a stay-at-home mother during the school year with a doctorate in psychology, who is redefining the role of camp counselor. She counsels parents, spending her days from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. printing out reams of e-mail messages to deliver to Bryn Mawr’s 372 female campers and leaving voice mail messages for their parents that always begin, “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just returning your call.”

Jill Tipograph, a camp consultant, said most high-end sleep-away camps in the Northeast now employ full-time parent liaisons like Ms. Miller, who earns $6,000 plus a waiver of the camp’s $10,000 tuition for each of her two daughters. Ms. Tipograph describes the job as “almost like a hotel concierge listening to a client’s needs.”

The liaisons are emblematic of what sleep-away camp experts say is an increasing emphasis on catering to increasingly high-maintenance parents, including those who make unsolicited bunk placement requests, flagrantly flout a camp’s ban on cellphones and junk food, and consider summer an ideal time to give their offspring a secret vacation from Ritalin.

One camp psychologist said she used to spend half her time on parental issues; now it’s 80 percent. Dan Kagan, co-director of Bryn Mawr, has started visiting every new family’s home in the spring and calling those parents on the first or second day of camp to reassure them.

And while the camp schedule once was sacrosanct, parents are now pulling kids out to act in commercials, compete in gymnastics meets or fill choice seats at baseball’s All-Star Game. [NYT]

When I was a lad, camp meant eating partially frozen slop, drinking "Bug Juice," forced Synagogue on Saturdays, and praying that the old caretaker who'd supposedly hacked up his family before disappearing in a fire didn't come to get you at night!

While traveling this week with my family out of the country, my IT department investigated accusations, which we have now learned to be true. A senior staff member failed to be transparent in dealing with client matters. He has taken full responsibility.

We have been in business since January 2003 – and according to O’Dwyer’s 2007 rankings our revenues exceeded $11.5M, and we are the 21st largest independent PR firm in the United States .

Growing companies often have problems in their expansion, and we continue to strive for the highest performance. We have instituted internal measures to ensure this cannot happen again. We continue to strive for the highest ethical standards.

This battle is not about blogging, it is however about protecting the highest levels of Kashrut in the Jewish community. We, as a firm. feel personally and professionally passionate about these and related issues. Critics of traditional Judaism, who have in recent days targeted the Chabad-Lubavitch movement, have chosen to smear the largest provider of the highest quality Kashrut meat in the world. We stand with protecting Kashrut.

[Failed Messiah]

You'll remember that this isn't Trump's first run-in with a member of the fairer sex. He's had nasty divorces with ex-wives Ivana ("Don't get mad, get everything") and Marla, and has raged at former business associates like Carolyn Kepcher and Martha Stewart. He fired Kepcher—who always seemed smart and capable and grounded on Trump's "hit" show The Apprentice—because she was becoming a "prima donna" whose "TV role went to her head." (He later axed his secretary for the same reason.) He publicly dissed his once-friend Martha when her Apprentice spin-off failed to attract viewers, blaming his own version's ratings dip on her failures. Then of course came Rosie, who aptly called him a "snake-oil salesman" on The View. He went completely apeshit, refusing to let the imagined "feud" die down. He kept blubbering about it for months and months, making as many jabs about her appearance as he possibly could. There was also the scuttled TV show Lady or a Tramp in which he planned to school "out of control" young women in how to be dainty, and then there was this.

So why do people still put up with him? Remember when he went bankrupt and everyone thought we were finally done with him? That was a glorious time. So what happened? Why did he come back for a thoroughly un-American second act? I mean his brand of self-aggrandizing, bewigged machismo was kind of de rigeur in the 80's and charmingly old-timey in the 90's, but now it's just passé and exhausting and increasingly offensive. And he never stops! He's seemingly impervious to criticism, his ego (and his toupee) just getting impossibly bigger and bigger and bigger.

Though maybe that's backfiring. Maybe that bullet-proof exterior will be his undoing. People do seem, finally, to be less charmed by his, well, snake-oil ways. Some are even turning their heads away from boredom. I mean, if you've witnessed time and time again how unstoppable the juggernaut is, you just stop worrying about it. There's nothing you can do. And then, after a while, you stop paying attention altogether. The Apprentice was canceled last year (though he'll tell you it was his choice to end it) and now he's been reduced to bellowing about perfectly likable actresses who have absolutely nothing to do with him. Hopefully this marks the beginning of his dimming-casino-lights fade into obscurity. We're tired.

Shyamalan said of the experience:

"Somebody's gonna get railed when this is over. I just want you guys to know that. I just want to warn you that it's coming. You've never seen me on a movie set, but you're gonna."

Shyamalan pulled me and his Warner handler (a man with the apparent patience of Job) aside, and basically did his impression of the shark in Jaws during the final clash with poor Quint. Once again there were accusations of unprofessional work: he was distracted by noises in the next room; he didn't like the look of the shots; we obviously didn't care enough to take this interview seriously. He then pulled an argument out of his ass that was so transparent, you would've thought it was the first half of The Village.

"Look, I don't care about me. You can do what you want with me. But these are good actors and they deserve better."

As he continued to rant, I noticed that he was either delusional or narcissistic enough to believe that everyone around him adhered to his personal point of view unquestioningly (and you wonder why the leaps of logic in his movies). He flat out said that both the anchor conducting the interview, and the video crew taping it had told him that they agreed that the shoot was shit. Suffice to say I suffered through the tapes of the interview several times during the course of the afternoon. He apparently really is hearing voices.

• Before you accuse me of getting something wrong, please make sure that I got it wrong.
• Before you accuse me of "stealing" some item, please notice that there's a link to the source right at the end of the fucking post.
• If you're a former Gawker editor who thinks it's a hot idea to come here on the weekend and tell me how to flip burgers, ask yourself, "Am I Elizabeth or Choire?" If the answer is no—beat it, prick.
• Before you comment that some wrong-ass previous commenter "makes a good point" please make sure that he/she actually did.
• In general, notice that everyone around you is having fun and saying fun things. If you can't manage to do something as decent as have fun and say fun things, no one wants you here. Thank you.

Sorry to get ranty. But what's the point of staying home working on a glorious beach day when little freaks are going to come around and spread negative all over the place? I dunno. I guess I'll post some more stuff. Maybe. I can't say I really feel like it.

On a conference call after the buyout agreement is reached:

Messrs. Geithner and Dimon led off with some brief remarks, noting that J.P. Morgan would be guaranteeing Bear Stearns's debts and that if the pact hadn't come together, the market impact may have been catastrophic. During the question-and-answer session, Citigroup Inc.'s new CEO, Vikram Pandit, spoke up.

Mr. Pandit — who did not initially identify himself — asked a shrewd but technical question: How would the deal affect the risk to Bear Stearns's trading partners on certain long-term contracts?

The query irked Mr. Dimon. "Who is this?" he snapped. Mr. Pandit identified himself as "Vikram." Offended that Mr. Pandit was taking up time with what he considered granular inquiries, Mr. Dimon shot back, "Stop being such a jerk." He added that Citigroup "should thank us" for staving off further mayhem on Wall Street.

Dimon rallies his new employees:

Standing on the dais with two senior lieutenants, Mr. Dimon tried to strike a conciliatory tone.

Bear Stearns's "shotgun marriage" to J.P. Morgan "is not the sort of thing we set out to do," he told the audience. Noting the pain for Bear Stearns managers facing the prospect of unemployment and big losses on their Bear Stearns stock, he added: "We can't begin to imagine how difficult this is."

In the tense question-and-answer session that followed, Ed Moldaver, a stocky, 40-year-old broker, stood up.

"This isn't a shotgun marriage," he said. "This is more like a rape."

As some in the room shook their heads and muttered uncomfortably, Mr. Dimon stared stonily at the crowd.

[WSJ]

I was an intern for Charlie Rose back in '03, and at that time David Gregory was a frequent guest, usually on remote from Washington. I would watch the less-than-congenial, highly abusive, and generally abrasive Rose do the usual pre-show banter with Gregory; whereby they'd both bask in their own sense of self-satisfaction for a while, then make jokes about President Bush (not that everyone doesn't, but it did destroy the illusion of journalistic objectivity for me).

My best guess is Gregory is definitely taking 'star' lessons from the diva/mentor himself, Charlie.

The dude is a total jerk.

Once, I was hanging with some friends in DC and we decided to go to the Capitol. We agreed to meet at a certain point at the front steps when we were done. There were maybe 8 of us. Well it turns out that David Gregory was reporting from the lawn of the Capitol around the spot where we were meeting up. The guy did his report, turned around, and proceeded to berate us and curse at us for being fame seeking assholes for ruining his shot and then asked if we wanted his autograph.

Whiner, arrogant, pious, self centered puke - that's him!!

And Fitted Sweats asks the important question: what if you were stranded on a tropical island with him?

David Gregory would insist being stranded was all your fault in the first place. He'd make a weird headband from an old dress shirt. Go jogging. Then start asking about what Presidents you've met. "Come on," he'd say. "Has to be at least one, right?" You'd say no. Meekly. Then he'd say "What was your GPA in college?" And spend the whole time undermining you. And being his typically douchey prematurely gray self. If he dies, after writing some bad poetry on a cave wall with a rock, he's too pasty to cannibalize.

Gregory generally came off as awkward when trying to lighten up during his gig guest-hosting Today—he also did quite a bit of dancing. He also once called in to Don Imus either terribly jet-lagged or comically drunk. And some people claim he's hated by his staff and, uh, mouths off to the help.

He might well be hated by his staff and mean to wait-staff. He's smug, self-important, and largely humorless despite his on-air geniality (it's almost like he's in television!). But we bummed around DC for a little while doing not much of anything in particular and from what we heard at the time, from people who might happen to know him, he's not Chris Matthews bad.

We could be wrong. Anyone work with or for the man? Or served him dinner? tell us how it went.

Spitzer, New York's Love Guv, and Clemens both had reputations as brawlers, who made tons of enemies on their way to the top. The people on their side loved them, but outside of their own teams they were widely despised. Clemens wisely spent his career in the American League, where designated hitters could take his turn at bat so he wouldn't have to risk getting beaned in retaliation for his frequent knockdowns of opposing batters.

Furthermore, both men suffered from huge bouts of hypocrisy. Spitzer prosecuted prostitution rings while patronizing them at the same time. Clemens was always boasting of his hard work, diet, and exercise program, while (IN ALL LIKELIHOOD) being shot up with steroids by his trainer. When his trainer finally told the story, Clemens continued to deny everything, which he does to this day, even as most of the other players named have implicitly or explicitly admitted when the steroid allegations against them were true. And, he filed a defamation suit against the trainer, which brought Clemens' entire reputation under legal review. The Post reports today that the pitcher had at least two other women on the side in addition to McCready, so take your sanctimonious family man act and inject it into your buttocks along with lots of testosterone, Roger Clemens.

An added bonus: like the lawyers who roped their careers to Spitzer's only to see them crumble along with him, Clemens' lawyer, Rusty Hardin, is going to come out of this looking like a bald-faced liar, like his client. Just yesterday he said there was no sex between Clemens and McCready; today, she's admitting it all over the place.

Spitzer was at least fighting on the side of righteousness. For Clemens, that was only true if he was pitching for your team. Among those enjoying Clemens' downfall the most: this young man:

Their neighbor agreed to install air filters and use a smokeless ashtray. The Selbin's suit did not even allege that the smoke was coming into their apartment, just the common hallway in the building. Once publicity about the suit got out, a company called Aerus donated the air filters for free.

Attorney, plaintiff, and terrible rat bastard Jonathan Selbin hopes that this messy affair doesn't make him look bad:

Mr. Selbin indicated on Monday that the publicity surrounding the lawsuit had not been pleasant. "I am confident you will find a way to make us look like terrible people all over again for insisting on such an onerous thing," he said in the e-mail message.

In 2007, Trudeau began airing an infomercial for a new book, "The Weight Loss Cure They Don't Want You to Know About." In the infomercial, Trudeau claims you can lose 30 pounds in 30 days, with no restrictions and no exercise. He says "It's the fastest, easiest, most effective way to lose weight."

Mike McDonald of Webster bought the pitch and the book. He was surprised at what he found inside. One of the recommendations for phase one of the diet is "Go to a licensed colon therapist and under their supervision and guidance receive 15 colonics."

Mike says in the next phase, you had to have daily hormone injections. In the infomercial, Trudeau never mentions that a hormone needs to be injected, or that you need a doctor's prescription to get the hormone in the first place.

When his products aren't pitching ridiculously complicated solutions to easy problems, they're pitching ridiculously obvious solutions to hard problems. People who bought Trudeau's "Debt Cures" say that there's nothing in the book that isn't common knowledge. The infomercial for his weight loss "solution" has been yanked from TV, and the FTC is suing him for false advertising, once again.

Trudeau is in the business of selling people things that sound too good to be true, and in fact are. Or of simply repackaging common sense knowledge with a steep markup. Unfortunately, there seems to be a limitless supply of suckers for him to prey on. I guess with one being born every minute, that adds up to... a lot! Here's a sample of a Trudeau infomercial, this one for debt; it demonstrates, obviously, that it's usually much cheaper to use Google to answer your questions about anything.

PR that involves a faceless corporate entity reaching out in a formal way to a disgruntled reporter will only make that reporter laugh, and redouble his efforts to screw that company into oblivion. But most people find it very hard to act like coldhearted bastards on a face-to-face personal level. It's easy to tell somebody to fuck off on a blog, or (phrased more respectfully) in a feature story. If that person has taken you out to lunch, though, it suddenly becomes almost impossible. Because now, that flack is not just some jerk bothering you on behalf of somebody you don't like to do something you don't want to do; that flack is the guy who you sat down with and talked about the Yankees and what neighborhood you live in and where you went to school and how stupid so and so is. He's an actual person.

In the week and a half since Gawker got into a little tiff with the Wal-Mart touting PR firm Edelman, my invitations to lunch (well, after-work drinks, but same principle) have gone WAY up. Many people decided they would like to be on Gawker's good side. The invitations are mostly from PR people that I knew before I got here, and most of those PR people are among the few (I can count on my fingers) that I actually like on a personal level. Why do I like them? Because I had lunch with them before, and they're nice guys.

It's inescapable. Lunch works. To go out to lunch with somebody, laugh and talk, and then go back to work and write an article that plunges a knife in their back is an exceedingly hard thing to do. It can be done; sometimes, it must be done; but it takes a lot of the fun out of it. Most good PR people are, by nature, personable and friendly. And while some of them are transparent assholes who want nothing more than to shill and shill some more, others come off like regular people who have a job to do, but would rather talk shit and joke around like a normal human being. I guarantee that if you could construct a chart of positive vs. negative news coverage, the positives would jump immediately following lunch meetings with PR people representing the stories' subjects. And stay that way for a long time. The effect is lasting. It's scary.

It does make it even sweeter, however, on those occasions when you have lunch with a flack and come back with your previous suspicions of them being an asshole confirmed. Then you can just fire away at will in good conscience.

Luckily, there's an easy way out of this conundrum, so we don't all get stuck just easing off every evil company in the world just because their PR person happens to be a halfway decent human being. The real test of a good flack is one who can accept criticism and carry on without hating you. Those people are much rarer than the broad class of those who can act nice at lunch. So reporters, bloggers, and commenters everywhere: Don't be afraid to say Wal-Mart sucks, just because one of their mouthpieces lives in Brooklyn just like you and also likes your favorite band. If he's really cool, he already knows his client sucks, and he won't hold it against you; if not, he was never that cool in the first place.