Yesterday we yelled at the seemingly boneheaded marketers who sent an email about a Rose Bowl trip sweepstakes offer to the erudite deep thinkers who subscribe to the New Yorker. "When was the last time you think a New Yorker reader watched the Rose Bowl, let alone wanted to go to it?" We were wrong again, though — and a reader helpfully corrected us.
Planted in the print version of this month's Vanity Fair along with James Wolcott's broadside versus red states is mention of a Harlequin romance sub-series we had no idea existed, and yet instantly approve of. This series is "set against the backdrop of the thrill-a-minute world of NASCAR." Titles include On the Edge, Dangerous Curves, and (chuckle) In the Groove. Sadly lacking are Killed in a Flaming Ball of Wreckage and Swabbing the Black Crud Out of Your Nostrils After a Day at the Track. Anyway, VF takes aim at the latest title, A NASCAR Holiday:
Things seem to be going swimmingly for Gawker editor Alex Balk over at Deadspin, don't you agree? Around here, we're quite accustomed to (a) calling people gay, (b) calling people homophobes, (c) being called reverse-homophobic for projecting homophobia onto others, and (d) being gay, but it's nice to see the same cycle holding true throughout the land. In addition to welcoming the various Deadspin commenters who've seen fit to visit, we commend those Gawker commenters who've made the reverse commute. And yes, we admit that our banning finger may have twitched more than usual today. Normally we would be all too eager to commence the next round of commenter executions, but that would be terribly inhospitable. Plus, unlike some, we try not to shit where we eat. So go nuts — other than instant death for standard troll/spam behavior, no commenter will be banned for anything said until Balk finishes out his sentence at Deadspin. To put it another way: Do your worst. We aint' a-scared of you.
As mentioned last week, our fine guest editor Spinachdip will continue to blog for your reading pleasure through tomorrow. After that, we'll just figure something else out, somehow. Meanwhile, we're sad to report that there was no sign of our office appearance on this past weekend's Saturday Night Live, and it was rather painful scanning through that episode even on Tivo fast-forward. Perhaps the bit will turn up in NBC's online dustbin. Lastly, be sure to tune in on Tuesday for editor Alex Balk's self-immolation, where he blogs full-time both here and over at Deadspin in payment of his lost World Series wager. Treat him gently.
You may recall our World Series wager with Will Leitch of Deadspin: Should Leitch's Cardinals win it all, we'd do a full day of his posts on the sports site in addition to our duties here, while if our Tigers prevailed Will would be forced to do twenty-four posts in a day across the sites. Well, after last night's 5-4 Cardinals victory, it's looking increasingly likely that you're stuck with us. Yeah, you gotta believe, anything could happen, teams have come back from bigger deficits before, etc.; barring inclement weather the whole thing will be over one way or the other by Sunday. We're reminding you of this bet not to elicit any sympathy for our plight (don't worry about us, we've got a shoebox full of crank and a copy of The Sporting News) but as a warning: Should we, in fact, be manning both helms on Tuesday we have a very strong suspicion that Deadspin's commenters will be following us over here and, to be frank, those people are animals. Be prepared.
So if you're a New York baseball fan of any variety your last remaining postseason hopes died last night on Carlos Beltran's called third strike. But fear not, New Yorkers: Much like walking angioplasty advertisement Tommy Lasorda, we're here to tell you that even though the Mets and Yankees are out of the playoffs, you still have a reason to watch the World Series. As it turns out, an editor of this site is, for reasons too complicated and extensive to go into here, a longtime fan of the Detroit Tigers. The editor of Deadspin (pictured above), Gawker Media's sports blog, is, for reasons of geography, a fan of the St. Louis Cardinals, Motown's Series rival. Much like publicity-seeking big city mayors who engage in jerkoff bets in the hopes of favorable news coverage, these two editors have also engaged in a wager, the terms of which are this: The editor whose team loses the Fall Classic will, on the Tuesday after the competition's conclusion, be forced to cover not only his own site's post requirements, but additionally pick up the other guy's posts for the day. So if you hate our guts and would much prefer to have the dynamic Mr. Leitch guest here for a day, you'll be rooting for the Tigers. Conversely, should you wish to see how we handle pictures of drunken backup QBs, you'll be pulling for the Cardinals. Who will prevail? Will it be Balk and human chimney Jimmy Leyland of the Tigers or Leitch and Tony "My only World Series win required an act of God" LaRussa of the Cards? Ultimately, the only real losers are the readers.
ESPN, in some bout of misguided integrity perhaps brought on by those fake press conferences they staged with Steve Phillips, has declared certain news sources off limits for its radio affiliates. What kind of trashy, no-talent organizations are so egregious as to warrant an outright ban?
Our relations at Deadspin are collecting reports that the plane which crashed into the Upper East Side building was registered to — and probably piloted by — New York Yankees pitcher Cory Lidle. ("This is totally what happens when Detroit wins," says one person on the street. Please, no hate mail.) Pretty much every news outlet you can think of is all over this one, so go forth and soak up the tragedy.
As mentioned last week, Fake Writer James Frey continues his slow return to the written word by penning a quick piece about his favorite NFL team for our sporty sibling site Deadspin. Frey's writing (which kind of sucks without the tales of excessive vomiting) is hollow; it suggests that he is now but a shell of a man, broken and beaten into monosyllabic timorousness. No doubt Frey carefully choose his words so as to avoid any sort of dramatic embellishment, but we've gone ahead and done some fact-checking. An excerpt from his Deadspin debut, complete with our notes:
It's a special time for Fake Writer James Frey. After admitting to fabricating several parts of his rehab memoir and getting flogged by national ringleader Oprah Winfrey, the faux-memoirist has been laying understandably low: hiding out in Europe, sulking around the East End, and cycling around lower Manhattan with a perma-scowl on his face. But perhaps things are looking up for our anti-hero: New York reported this week that Frey has a piece of (intentional) fiction published in the catalogue for photographer Malerie Marder's fall show at Greenberg Van Doren gallery, and today WWD reveals that BlackBook has commissioned Frey for a considerably more risky article in its November issue, a piece about photographer Alex Soth, who shot Maggie Gyllenhaal for the cover.
We want to quickly draw your attention toward America's Heartland, where Gawker's own Deadspin editor Will Leitch returns to his hometown of Mattoon, IL to participate in that fair city's greatest festival. We speak, of course, of Bagelfest.
A bit of sports media folklore: in a Scottsdale bar, at some undefined time in the mid-90s, a man was hitting on a woman wearing leather pants. He was quickly cockblocked, however, when ESPN anchor Chris Berman walked by and said to the woman, "You're with me, leather." She immediately got up and followed Berman out the door. The story was sent to our ball-loving brother Deadspin and has since become a favorite Deadspin non-sequitor catchphrase. Hell, they even made a t-shirt for it, wildly popular amongst all the men who still collect baseball cards. Everyone was happy.
• One night after she was seen having Guinness with dinner, pregnant Gwyneth Paltrow is spotted downing glasses of wine at Lupa. Here's hoping she names the kid Franzia. [Gatecrasher (2nd item)]
• Cindy Adams gives an inexplicable shout-out to Lindsay Lohan, who has a dog that "may be having mental problems." Oh, Cindy — quit projecting. [Cindy Adams]
• Loudmouthed hookerpants Anna Benson files for divorce from former Mets pitcher Kris Benson, claiming that he's cheated on her. Benson, we suspect, is relieved. [Deadspin]
• Even if he's a longshot, should Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter replace Brad Grey as head of Paramount, we'll fly to Los Angeles just so we can slit our wrists in Hollywood. [Page Six]
• Beyoncé's father challenges American Idol creator Simon Cowell to a pre-fabricated musical duel. Slow news day. [Lowdown]
While it's hardly as "hot" as losing one's Sidekick, Nicky Hilton's cell phone number has made its way online (917-929-0223). Alas, by the time most people caught on, she had long given up on answering her calls.
So apparently there's this big football game coming up on Sunday. (We know this now, because there was concern it could somehow scuttle our brunch plans.) As part of Gawker Media's new video initiative, jocky little brother Deadspin has enlisted failed Oddjacker A.J. Daulerio, armed him with a DV cam, and shipped him out to Detroit and Super Bowl XL. For FULL VIDEO COVERAGE! Yay.
Why don't our readers ever stand outside the Today show with signs professing their love for us?
This appeared in Newsday's sports section just moments ago:
We know this is a bit out of sorts for us, but we simply must take a moment to fellate Gawker Media's new sports site, Deadspin. (We'd call him our jocky little brother, but that would make the fellating part more gross than it already is.) Deadspin is a pick of the day over at the venerable Yahoo, and editor Will Leitch won't stop pissing himself until we give him the props he deserves. A cure for that which ails sports journalism as we know it, Deadspin "provides more than just limp links, with an offering of reasoned reviews and informed opinions on the world of sports." Being a Gawker Media site, there's naturally a "healthy dash of rumor and innuendo" in the mix.
