Salon's clinically insane advice columnist Cary Tennis today gets the chance to respond to the most stereotypical post-college question imaginable. A 24-year-old girl moved to LA to get into the film industry, found out it was shady, and got bummed out. Now she can't decide whether to move home to Florida and save up some money, or go backpacking across Thailand on a spiritual journey. We've all been there! Ann Landers gets 46 letters identical to this every week. So how does our friend Cary handle this easy setup? With his trademark brand of scary, dissociated ramblings indicative of an advanced case of schizophrenia or excessive mescaline use:

NYC blogger-about-town Cajun Boy was minding his business on a bench outside of an American Apparel store on the Lower East Side last weekend, when "a man with thick eyeglasses wearing a blue Member's Only jacket, carrying a denim murse, and generally carrying on like a crazy person" started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, shouting into a headset. The man's erratic behavior had Cajun Boy convinced he was a maniac about to shoot up the store. Until he got a good look and discovered—spoiler alert—that it was just energetic American Apparel CEO Dov Charney, no doubt engaged in important corporate business! A scary, businesslike man. Not spotted: Dov's poor chihuahua. [Cajun Boy In The City]

"The Resistance," which describes itself as a "Christian Group" but, judging by its website, is more of a "Wacko Conspiracy Theory Group," has just launched a boycott of Starbucks. They object to the coffee chain's new retro-style logo, which features a mermaid who wantonly possesses boobies. They "might as well call themselves Slutbucks"! In the past, The Resistance has lobbied celebrities like Paris Hilton and Tom Cruise to change their "ridiculous" behavior. So their calls for action have clearly been huge failures thus far. The full, weird press release is below.

Shirley Phelps-Roper is the spokeswoman for Westboro Baptist Church, the truly execrable fringe group of psychos known for picketing the funerals of dead US soldiers because they believe their deaths are the result, somehow, of God's hate for gays. Josh Kilmer-Purcell is a gay New York author, ad executive, and veteran of the drag queen circuit under the name "AquaDisiac." But Kilmer-Purcell is busy being friends with the crazy lady [Ad Age]! "Like any good gay person, I'm trying to render her powerless by turning her into an anti-diva," he says. "She thinks I'm going to hell, and I think she's a bit overzealous, but beyond that, we have a surprising amount of things in common." It's the oddest couple since Devito and Schwarzenegger! Seriously, we have no idea. After the jump, a clip of Shirley Phelps-Roper being too insane for even Sean Hannity to bear:

Ben Widdicombe recently had a chat with former Village Person Randy Jones, mainly about the geigh singer's new memoir Macho Man. Jones recounted one story from the book, about Tom Cruise, that was eventually vagued-up after the Queen of Scientology's lawyers got involved. Though Jones had no problem talking about the incident with ol' Dame Widdicombe, saying "Tom and I had the same management company at the time. I met him at a party Andy Warhol threw for Peter Gatien's Limelight [nightclub offshoot] in Atlanta." It was apparently "quite the party." Poor Tommy. All these old stories about his early career keep popping up and there's really nothing he can do about it.

Richard Martin, the crazy sign-posting super in Bay Ridge who enjoys insulting tenants and watching his little dog ride the mechanical pony, is back in his proper place: the newspaper. The Daily News, determined to win the Martin-related tabloid war, reports today that the crazy old coot has finally moved the garbage cans out of his lobby, where he had placed them to piss off his tenants. He clarifies that those tenants are still, however, "disgusting slobs." But one anonymous tenant has struck back by lighting one of Martin's crazy signs on fire "and scorching the wall behind it." War! Could this be the end for our hero's reign of textual terror? Heaven forbid. In remembrance, a photo of our all time favorite Richard Martin sign [via BeehiveHairdresser] after the jump. We call it "Irish Fucking Christmas."

Rage-infected supermodel Naomi Campbell could spend up to six months in prison for assaulting a police officer at an airport yesterday. Just another item on the list of Naomi's many rampages. Reportedly she became upset when a piece of luggage containing the magical clothing she was to wear for an American television appearance turned up missing. Spitting and swearing, running on and off the plane, she was finally subdued, handcuffed, and dragged off of an aircraft by four police officers. Luckily none of the officers sustained any infectious bites nor did her saliva come in contact with any open wounds. She has been released on bail, and is set to return to court in May. Until then, she will prowl the streets... hunting. [Showbiz Spy] Footage of the incident after the jump.

In the yet-to-be written history of women and lesbians who've done important things during what they used to call the AIDS crisis—Rebecca Brown, who wrote the best book to date about AIDS, Terry McGovern, who founded the HIV Law Project, basically the whole staff of the staff of the Center for HIV Law and Policy—has there been any greater hero than this week's Modern Love columnist, Virginia A. Smith?

So basically these days, if you wanna go to the loony bin, you just rip off your clothes and go to 42nd Street. Just three weeks ago, Josh Drimmer did it. Last night, some dude came down from White Plains and disrobed. Says the Post: "'By the time he got to Times Square, he was naked,' an NYPD spokesman said. After being apprehended next to a vendor's cart marked NUTS 4 NUTS , he was taken to Bellevue Hospital."

Apparently Maximilia "Ava" Cordero, formerly Maximillian, who has claimed that maybe-millionaire money-manager Jeffrey Epstein had sex with her when she was (by New York law) underage but after she became a woman, which is very tricky, has had her lawyer-lover amend her complaint! It's pretty out there: "Epstein suddenly went into the bathroom and came out several minutes later wearing red lipstick and wearing a matted red wig. He said to plaintiff 'Call me Janice'."

Jeffrey Chodorow, the insane Tevye of the New York restaurant scene, is opening another of his overwrought hyperbolic restaurants. Chodorow is close to signing a lease in the Empire Hotel (up at Broadway and 63rd) for his newest restaurant. We already have half-assed ninja shtick at Kobe Club, golden sperm gestalt at Wild Salmon and the nostalgic outer boroughs idyll of Borough. What odd theme will Chodorow tap next? We bet it has to do with unicorns but it's really up to you.

ALSO! William Unroch, the lawyer-boyfriend for maybe-millionaire financier Jeffrey Epstein's latest underage sex claimant-whatever, is a model agency owner and here are all his young lovelies! (Apply within! "We are always looking for delightful new female models and actresses who want to work for us in New York City.") [Models 4 Movies]

OH my God what? So the sad (and sorta illiterate!) underage sexcapade suit filed against maybe-millionaire probably-perv Jeffrey Epstein was filed by the poor gal's boyfriend? Who is a kind-of awesome wingnut named William Unroch? Who has a blog? And also apparently another girlfriend?

The noted shareholder activist Evelyn Y. Davis was annoyed: Her hearing amplification headset, which had been provided by the New Amsterdam Theatre on occasion of the New York Times Company annual shareholder meeting, was not working, and she would not allow the meeting to begin until she was situated. "The woman gave me a broken one!" she yelled into the audience in her thick Dutch accent. At the podium, Arthur Sulzberger Jr. looked perturbed but spoke gently to the woman, as one might speak to one's great-aunt who is being kept in a sanitarium high in the Swiss Alps: "Evelyn, you have to sit down or you have to leave."