Last night's "CSI: New York," a show we cannot watch for very long because we are old and the dizzying camera pans give us vertigo, featured the acting talents of one John McEnroe, playing an arrogant tennis legend known for his outbursts. What caught our attention, however, was the mention of NYStalker.com, a fictional website that tracks the locations of celebrities in real time. It's yet another victory for citizen journalism, and for America. Also, we kind of feel like "CSI" king Jerry Bruckheimer owes us some money.

Thanks to this week sponsors, who know how to dress for summer. Care to share in their sartorial elegance? There's more information here.

The Politico is offering its audience of congressional pages and lobbyist interns a handy list of ways to get the ear of the blogosphere. While their tips are directed at those who want to make contact with political bloggers, many of them can be applied to those who blog about things like, say, media and celebrity gossip. And cats. And cheezborgahs. We've taken their suggestions and adapted them to let you know how to get your whatever placed right here.

Check out the book Luis Alberto Urrea calls "vivid to the point of hallucination." Escape into your own copy of The Virgin's Guide to Mexico, by Eric B. Martin, at McAdam Cage.

As long as we're getting rid of things around here we might as well toss out a few commenters to boot. We've started to realize something: Posts about femiladyism bring out the worst in some people. A healthy portion of this week's cull comes from chick-related topics. The rest of the departed? They're just dicks. Here's who goes:

There are a few long-running weekly features lingering about here. As we bring on new ones, we are forced to wonder: Are we sick of the old ones? Are we not? It's hard to know! Sort of they're like that roommate that you've had for years that never takes out the trash (annoying!) but also always adds illuminating commentary during "Charm School" (adorable!). So, since it's Thursday and I'm bored and feel like destroying something besides Emily's dignity, it's time for a poll! Should we get rid of one of our oldest and dearest friends?

Remember on Monday how we chuckled at Michael Pietsch's mandate that his minions at Little, Brown post their profiles, Facebook-style, on Publishers Lunch? Well, it turns out that joke isn't funny anymore! At least, not for us.

As I conclude my tour of duty as the first ombdusman of Gawker, here are some final thoughts and concerns about the blog and its blogalism that flow from what I've observed over the past two months from my perch outside the office. You hear that? Two lousy months! They promised me a goddamn year! You get caught with one lousy prostie in Maryland and you're out on your ass. That's how they do things here.

So far this week, our ongoing process of "efficiency management" of commenters (our most precious natural resource! No, really!) hasn't been easy. But the great thing about Gawker commenters is that there are always at least five of you who are begging for a little downsizing. (Much like some people who work here!) Let's put our fake sad faces on and say goodbye to the week's "voluntarily" departed.

Or at least they claim to be at brunches. Want to name drop with the best? More information can be found here. Thanks to: American Apparel, Canon, Crunch, Grey Gardens, IFC TV, Legally Blonde, Mini, MIKA, The Noisettes, Nokia, Possible Side Effects, SV Supreme Vodka, Sprint, UWISHUNU.com, and VW.

Because it's allegedly "Administrative Professionals' Day," the folks at MediaBistro have put together a package of "seven things the kid getting your coffee can teach you." While we don't necessarily consider ourselves assistants, we are all subservient to our Managing Editor Choire Sicha, so we read the piece with some interest as to how it reflected his management style. We've pulled out the seven tips and, via the miracle of preserved IM transcripts, taken the measure of the manager. Results follow.

Once in a great while a post here comes along that inspires so much commenter imbecility that we want to make redundant each and every person who posts a "quip" in it. Unfortunately, that's a pain for us to code, so we've just picked five people from this week's nightmare.

This week at Gawker Jobs:

AdAge has a super-servicey piece today about how to tell if you should find another job. The piece offers five indicators that may mean it's time to move on. I've been feeling a little bit of workplace dissatisfaction lately, but assumed it was just weather-related. I decided to do a little self-assessment based on the AdAge metrics. The results were disturbing.

Hey, remember when the owner of the Washington Bullets changed the team's name to the Washington Wizards? Because he suddenly realized that bullets kill and violence is bad? Given the events earlier in the week, we've come to a somewhat similar realization. (We're still arguing about it, actually. Too soon v. sensitivity v. being a jerk v. English use v. being in favor of some kinds of violence but not others, etc.) Anyway! Hence our fancy new name for commenter bans. (If it worked for America's corporations, it works for us!) Much like the transformation of Viacom employees into permalancers, no lay-off is necessarily permanent here. Still, time to turn in your final TPS reports and say your goodbyes below.

I am going to use this column to do something I will never be able to do again—convey my first impressions of intensive Gawker-reading. Until I was asked to consider taking on this job, I had been only a casual reader, mainly clicking on the Stalker map to track the whereabouts of Kelly Ripa (Kelly: I know you love me! Why do you insist on playing these games?). Since that day, I have read more Gawker than is typical of any but the fruitlessly employed and Kurt Eichenwald's lawyer.

The inbred Eastern European midget final-five secret-cylons who control this website are doing something to it tonight. The new server that they are installing will reach directly into your computer and take your pennies-per-page views. You will like it. Anyway, Gawker will entirely disappear in a puff of smoke late tonight, and begin to coalesce again here in TEH INTERNETS!!11! at some point on Saturday. If all goes according to "plan," a plan that should be noted is only slightly less evil than anything ever imagined by former stealth world leader Paul Wolfowitz, Gawker Weekend will be here for your infotainment on Sunday.

In our unbridled pursuit of fame and of the validation of the establishment, we do a lot of things of which we are not particularly proud. Things like appearing on Fox's 2 a.m. shit-show "Red Eye," attending panels where Graydon Carter is a featured speaker, being in the same neighborhood as Julia Allison, walking by the Beatrice Inn, that sort of thing. As we watched the Don Imus drama unfold this week, though, we decided that there must be limits, even for us. No matter how desperate or attention-starved we may be, there is no excuse for condoning racism and sexism. All that is necessary for evil to succeed is for good men to do very little, or something like that. Now we must take a stand: We will never make a guest appearance on Mr. Imus' television show or his radio program. Pardon our brief sincerity, but we feel that strongly about this issue, and thought now would be exactly the right time to make this pledge.

Thanks to this week's advertisers, who love the sport and everyone who plays it. Care to catch a game with them? Additional information here. There's even more excitement this week: Answer this poll from Bravo's Shear Genius, enter your e-mail address, and you could win a $100 gift certificate from Spafinder! And thanks to our advertisers: American Apparel, Canon, IFC TV, LivePersonalShoppers.com, MSNBC, Mergers & Acquisitions, Nokia, Perfect Stranger, Bravo's Shear Genius, SV Supreme Vodka, Sprint, UWISHUNU.com, VW.

This week at Gawker Jobs: