Q: What do Kurt Cobain, Liam Gallagher, Marc Jacobs, Matthew Barney, and Georgia O'Keeffe have in common? A: They're all featured paintings in New Museum's latest exhibition, "Live Forever: Elizabeth Peyton." Check it out at 235 Bowery, or click here for more information. The show runs now through January 11th, so don't even think about missing it. Hell, yes!
Too few sci-fi nerds are doing their duty and watching Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. Its ratings have stunk this season and if they don't get better it could be canceled. Fortunately, according to this guy, it's still very popular with advertisers, so Fox has just ordered another season. And everyone better start watching it or poor Summer Glau will be out of a job again, just like when the bastards canceled Firefly. As a reminder of how important it is that Glau remain on television, here are a bunch of pics of her being hot.
Remember how the New Yorker's Barack Obama cover was supposedly going to confuse a certain class of voter over whether Barack Obama is a legitimate, Democratic candidate for U.S. president or flag-burning muslim terrorist? Everyone sort of pictured these gullible souls as poor, uneducated whites, but the joke's on us, because the caricature has pushed no less a political sophisticate than MSNBC's Chris Matthews into a pit of stuttering confusion. Talking about the cover on Hardball tonight, Matthews suffered a severe relapse of his notorious Obama/Osama condition. Symptoms include calling Obama by the name of terrorist Osama bin Laden; referring to bin Laden as "Obama" and flashing on-screen pictures of one dude when talking about the other. Click the thumb to see which one happened tonight. HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NEW YORKER FASCISTS. [Huffington Post]
Courageous Guest of a Guest blogger Doug braved the unthinkable this weekend: Jill Zarin's 4th of July party in the Hamptons. The Real Housewives of New York City star and her husband hold an annual backyard soirée at their landed estate, and Doug was (un)fortunate enough to receive an invitation. Everything just farted class, from the salmon and lobster salad to the lychee martinis to the "Team Jill" dessert cookies. And look, even RHoNYC costars Bethenny and Countess LuAnn (wearing flamenco water wings) were there, teetering about in all white, mistaking the event for an actual party (sort of) worth covering. A humble and grateful guest, Doug doesn't really dish any dirt, but there are photographs, so you can make up your own tragic stories. Some select few await you after the jump.
Arianna Huffington came to this internet with little more than a URL, a dream and a whole lot of connections. Now, according to Nielsen online, the Huffington Post has surpassed the Drudge Report in traffic. What perfect timing for a New Yorker essay on the state of online journalism and how she's changing the rules.
Gusts near 50 MPH sent a loose chain crashing into the side of the Trump SoHo tower on Saturday night, cracking windows and showering the street with glass, officials and neighborhood residents said.
Somewhere in midtown, the smell of chlorine hung heavy above the heads of a group of New Yorker cartoonists. They were at the bar at the Hotel QT, drinking free wine and vodka and celebrating their failures. Most of them were included in the second edition of The Rejection Collection: Cream of the Crap, a compilation of cartoons that didn't make the cut. Also there was Hendrick Hertzberg, who looks like Robert Redford and Warren Beatty and who, when Tina Brown was editor The New Yorker, was the cartoon editor. His friends call him Rick. I called him Rick. Am I his friend? Is he on Facebook? Provisional not yets on both questions. Also, if you, like me, thought the life of a New Yorker cartoonist was all doodling and fat paychecks, the gathered company was quick to disabuse us of that notion. Nikola Tamindzic was disabused too. So hard.
Clark Hoyt, the former Knight Ridder D.C. bureau chief who once publicly sparred with the New York Times second ombudsman, Barney Calame, has been appointed as the Times' third ombudsman. This is going to sound a little mean, because supposedly Barney's the nicest guy in the world—but we really hope Clark won't be the total mealy-mouthed, overly-cautious, eggshell-walking, "and-on-the-other-hand"-using and "to be fair"-sayin' kindergarten-teacher-style total wuss-biscuit that Barney almost always was. Lotsa luck, Clark!
If you're looking for someone to feel sorry for in the aftermath of Snakes on a Plane's disappointing™ opening weekend, we ask that you look past Samuel L. Jackson, whose Snakes on Two Planes sequel pay raise has been imperiled, or the bloggers who may never again find themselves flown out to fancy Hollywood premieres and handed expensive electronic tokens of appreciation for their viral hitmaking ability, and consider doling out some compassion for New Line's president of distribution, who had to face the media after a disputed $15 million first-place showing:
Article number 834 on How The War Is Spoiling Social Relationships In Manhattan: "All over the city, I have encountered couples and close friends who have been in throw-down fights - because one supports the war, and the other is against it. I have been to no less than six dinner parties that turned into shouting matches when someone mentioned Iraq."
The battle of the sexesover Iraq [NY Post]
GQ editor Caroline Campion has a piece in the NYT about class warfare in the Tompkins Square Park dogrun. She laments the fact that the yuppies have moved in with their "breedist" dogs. (The owners of the more aggressive dogs say the tiny yuppie dogs deserve to be attacked because they're usually wearing sweaters.) Says one homeless park resident "articulately"her description; not mine"Homeless people were moved out to make room for the dogs, dogs that have been enslaved for domesticity. They should be in the countryside. Not a pleasure for rich people, the rich homosexuals and freaks of society." (Homeless people have opinions, too, you know!) "With the city in the throes of an economic downturn, there may yet be hope for residents sentimental about this grungy little hamlet's rebel past," Campion writes without a single note of intentional irony.
Straining at the leash [NYT]