Oh hey, looks like now that someone knows he'll never be president, he's relaxing a bit. John Edwards, the man who became a fiery populist in 2007 or so but still could not interest voters, is in a spot of trouble! Drudge: "NATIONAL ENQUIRER CATCHES JOHN EDWARDS AT BEVERLY HILTON." Now. Matt won't say what he was "caught" doing, but we hear he was with a lady. Sigh. This is going to make us look quite the fool for being skeptical of those last Edwards rumors. Ha ha oh shit, the Enquirer story is up and it involves a LOVE CHILD.
Daily News reporter Caitlin Millat went crazy yesterday. Crazy for journalism, that is! "I stabbed an innocent victim, got shot by a police officer, and suffered a severe asthma attack on Wednesday in Brooklyn," she writes, "all in a day's work for the Daily News." She now languishes in an isolation cell on Riker's Island. No, just kidding! She was just playing the role of a crazy person to help out with the city's annual EMT competition. Don't scare us like that, Caitlin! As an added bonus for all of us curious readers, she was able to turn her unique first-person experience into a story in today's paper. Synergetic! There's also a video. Near the end is when she stabs a guy. [NYDN]
Cary Tennis: Your Source For Stone Cold Crazy Advice. The Salon advicemonger and generally confused and confusing man today receives a sincere question from a girl about her hard-partying friend, who gets drunk and cheats on her boyfriend, most recently by having "consensual, unprotected sex with one of the Marines" that she met on a night out. What should she do to help her friend? Cary Tennis makes sure she regrets that she ever asked that question. Because Cary Tennis can read her friend's mind:
Optimum Online commercials: they are now their own genre. A specific category at the Grammy Awards, a spot in the Olympic Games, and a bust on Mount Rushmore are reserved specifically for the psychedelic, grating ads that this strange company produces. The original "Reggaeton-Jet Ski-Lifeguard" spot was an over-the-top classic after only 17,000 exposures per person in the Tristate area; the follow up spot, all shiny, kinetic, and Hype Williams-esque, expanded the motif. Now there's a new one in circulation, and it shifts the setting to suburbia, with a sort of knockoff Gwen Stefani character whirling through a household with backup dancers, and the odd appearance of an old lady who is also a race car driver. Philosophers, break out your thinking caps. The full ad is after the jump.
Prodigy, the Mobb Deep rapper currently taking advantage of his incarceration to hone his blogging skills, is concerned about quite a few things: ritualistic murders, the 9/11 conspiracy, secret societies, missing children, and "NATURAL ENERGY LINES THAT CRISS-CROSS THE ENTIRE PLANET." How do these things all tie together? Allow Prodigy explain at length [Vibe], like a man with plenty of time to type and type and type and go crazier and crazier and crazier:
Once again, American scandals hang their heads in shame. News comes from jolly old England that a former "Mr. Gay UK" has been arrested for murdering an ad executive from a gay magazine, and then eating some of him [Telegraph via Queerty]. Don't get any untoward ideas, though; they were just "friends." The killer also had some flesh from the man's right leg diced up, cooked, and ready to season when the cops came in. That does seem incriminating. Eat your heart out, Jeffrey Dahmer—you never won any pageants at all. A full beefcake photo (pretty much NSFW) of the award-garnering cannibal, Anthony Morley, from the time of his glorious 1993 title win, is after the jump:
Were you stopped in traffic in SoHo yesterday? You can thank Suzanne "Africa" Engo! But she had a good reason: she was stopping AIDS! How the hell was she doing that? We're not quite sure ourselves, but it involved $5,000 in (RED) Products, a 48-pound weight loss, and fabulous socialite Kristian Laliberte. We'll try to sort out the reasoning behind this insane and pointless self promotional stunt/ noble good cause for you, after the jump.
Richard Martin, the crazy old Bay Ridge building manager whose penchant for leaving psychotic, insulting signs all over his front door has turned him into a New York tabloid sensation and, consequently, media critic, has finally been captured on film in his natural habitat enjoying his favorite activity: helping his tiny dog ride the mechanical horse. A complicated man, Richard Martin is. Click to enlarge this picture of a lifetime. [Bay Ridge Rover via BeehiveHairdresser]
Insane fundamentalist Christian group American Family Association has declared victory in a two-year boycott against Ford Motor Company and its "significant support of the homosexual agenda." This, despite the fact that Ford says it negotiated no settlement, and is still involved with groups that work in support of gay marriage [Mixed Media]. It's the "Declare victory and go home" strategy, apparently. The AFA is very opposed to any ads "aimed at the homosexual community specifically." Except maybe ads for [jokey regular product with a gay reputation—suggestions?]! But the truth is that auto ads targeting gays have been standard for quite a while now, in America and internationally. After the jump, some of the most obvious examples.
Yesterday, a man named Clive Campbell filed a wacky $5 billion lawsuit against rap star and partial New Jersey Nets owner Jay-Z, as well as others associated with the huge Atlantic Yards construction project in downtown Brooklyn (which includes a new stadium for the Nets). The charge was that because Barclay's bought naming rights to the stadium, and was possibly involved in the slave trade way back when, everyone involved was illegally profiting from slavery. So that will be dismissed quickly. More interesting: Clive Campbell is the real name of DJ Kool Herc, the old school master widely credited as the founder of hip hop. So outlets started reporting that Kool Herc was suing Jay-Z—intergenerational hip hop madness! But then it came out that this was a different Clive Campbell [Gothamist]. Too bad, cause that would have been crazy. Now Jay-Z can turn his attention to warding off this "Voodoo Priestest"!:
The Village Voice will soon be facing a crippling boycott aimed at ending the paper's sex industry ads, if some semi-literate pink fliers littering the East Village have anything to say about it. The improbably located double-sided fliers also call for the automobile industry to stop giving assistance to forced homelessness, and a revamping of prostitution laws: "Greatest prostitution offense; person with AIDS or STD's prostituting patronizing them selves." An interesting viewpoint, certainly. But it's this idea for strip club reform that could succeed in stimulating us economically and otherwise, and may in fact save the world:
The Times enlightens the bourgeoisie this morning about the sexy sex scandal that's been rocking Hong Kong for the past couple of weeks. The players: Edison Chen, a movie star (who was in The Grudge 2, among other things); Gillian Chung, a teeny-bop pop star who's been in ads for Disneyland over there; Cecilia Cheung and Bobo Chan, two other singer/ acress stars; and several other lesser stars/ regular girls. Summary: Somehow Edison's collection of pictures of himself sexing up the girls was leaked onto the Internet, and now the country is going crazy, with the scandal dominating the celebrity media while the government arrests bloggers who post the pictures. It's the equivalent of a huge sex scandal involving Kelly Clarkson and Jimmy Fallon, or something. More importantly, we have some of the pictures, since the Times doesn't. Pics— edited down to an R rating, which was not easy— and servicey links to the uncensored versions for those of you who want to investigate this important journalistic matter further, after the jump.
Crain's New York Business editor Greg David, a 22-year veteran of the magazine, was kicked upstairs earlier this month, and he's none too happy about it. "David is not going quietly," a tipster tells us, describing the atmosphere as "really horrific." Apparently there have been tears in the ladies room! Frankly, we would be kind of cranky ourselves if management declared us past our expiration date after 22 years. Yesterday, David fired assistant managing editor Carmen Fleetwood, but we hear the decision probably wasn't related&mdash the two often butted heads. Fleetwood hadn't been at Crain's long&mdash she joined the magazine in June after 13 years as a reporter and editor at Dow Jones Newswires.
Uptown's craziest scandal has reached a major meltdown point! Upper East Side dealer Lawrence Salander and his gallery Salander O'Reilly are getting sued every which way but loose by angry clients and dealers and lenders, and so a State Supreme Court judge has shut the shit-blizzard down entirely. We can guarantee one thing: A number of really rich people are gonna get shafted out of this, no matter how much court supervision takes place. Carol Cohen, the widow of the CEO of Madison Square Garden? She's never gonna see the $3.4 million worth of art she "stored" at the gallery that Salander allegedly started selling off behind her back. We cannot believe Salander didn't take off for some country without an extradition agreement with the U.S. (China maybe!) with a bunch of cash a few months ago while he still could. What an idiot!
Way way WAY more detail on things New Yorker-related than you could ever need in the latest interview with that magazine's librarians. And yet, totally fascinating: "The magazine's Tables for Two department was originally called When Nights Are Bold, and it included reviews of nightclubs and speakeasies as well as restaurants. Charles Baskerville wrote the column, under the pseudonym Tophat, until July 18, 1925, when Lois Long took over, writing under the pen name Lipstick. The column was renamed Tables for Two in the September 12, 1925, issue. Long, a former Vanity Fair reporter, brought a lively and effervescent tone to the column, which typically ran to two or three pages." [EmDashes]