"Anyone who picked up the Village Voice this morning and turned to Lynn Yaeger's cover story on page 14 was met with a stomach-churning surprise that may have ruined their already unpleasant subway commute to work—a vivid, closeup pile of human excrement belonging to the artist Andres Serrano," writes Joe Pompeo in the Observer. Maybe this was just the Voice's way of being ironic, since no one actually reads the paper any more unless they're using it to clean up after their dog? [NYO]