Sean Parker, immortalized in The Social Network as a hard-partying playboy, was up early this morning. Around 6 am, the former Facebook president posted a quote to his profile concerning "the deaths of our enemies." It's hard to escape the conclusion that he was referring to Steve Jobs. (Update: Parker responds to this story below.)
Yesterday, the already-shrunken world of media reporting lost its two grandest figures: Jim Romenesko, the quiet man who singlehandedly set the agenda, like a front page editor for all media news (semi-retiring, by choice); and Slate's Jack Shafer—America's most consistently fearless press critic (laid off). Step back. Look around at the smoldering carnage of the media critic landscape. Who's left to carry the "harassing one's own industry colleagues" torch? A brief look, below.
Dick Cheney's memoir In My Time comes out next week, and the New York Times and Drudge Report both got their hot little hands on early copies. It sounds as excruciating as you might imagine: No apologies, no regrets, plenty of self-satisfied machismo. If Cheney had it all to do over again, the only thing he'd do differently is bomb the shit out of Syria.
In a tragic moment for Steve Jobs, there is a bright spot: Tim Cook, who will succeed Jobs as Apple's CEO, is an incredibly thorough and detail oriented boss who has revolutionized the way computers are assembled and steadily held the confidence of Apple's employees and partners. He is also, as we reported in January, destined to become an icon for gay advancement.
When Michael Jackson died, he was worth a paltry $50 million. Pfft, that's nothing. Pocket change. Now that he's gone and not accumulating debt to fuel his extravagant lifestyle, the value of his estate has skyrocketed.
The AP's Matt Apuzzo and Adam Goldman broke an extraordinary story today about the NYPD's unfettered and probably illegal intelligence operation—which employs "rakers" and "mosque crawlers" to troll Arab neighborhoods for information even when no crime is suspected—and its tight integration with the CIA, which has covert operatives deployed within the department. Basically, if you're a Muslim in New York, you either work for the NYPD or are being watched by them.
Everyone thinks that their subway line is the slowest, smelliest death trap of garbled announcements and naked crazy people. They are wrong. But this year two trains did tie for the distinction of being the shoddiest in all of New York City.
Will Smith and Jada Pinkett enter a Ring Cycle of divorce rumors. Jane Lynch was a NyQuil addict. Miley Cyrus' weird goth brother knocks up a Disney star. Clark Gable's grandson is criminally annoying with a laser pointer. Wednesday gossip sleeps around.
Not 24 hours after David Letterman delivered a jittery Top 10 devoted to jihadist death threats did Craig Ferguson, host of the lead-out show he produces, The Late Late Show, receive a "threatening" letter containing white powder. Two staffers at CBS Television City who came into contact with the substance were held in isolation, but were released after a hazardous materials team screened it and found it to be benign. Both the FBI and LAPD are currently investigating the letter, saying only that it originated in Europe.
Jay Leno's old prop has found his way to his very own starring role. Also today: Jeremy Piven writes the jokes himself, get ready to glimpse some Hunger Games, and Katie Couric has decided.
Remember when Goldman Sachs was a remorseless, cruelly efficient monolith run by soulless machines intent on harvesting wealth at the expense of the global economy and without regard to consequences?
Facebook just filed plans to massively expand its campus into a largely self sufficient complex, complete with doctor's offices, laundry services, tribal "garages," and an open pit for roasting dead animals. Just in case the social network and its 27-year-old CEO didn't resemble Lord of the Flies enough already.
Mets centerfielder Angel Pagan delayed last night's game because he was in the bathroom pooping. Apparently Pagan "felt a rumble at the end of the fourth" and ended up spending a significant portion of the fifth shitting, while his coach screamed his name from the dugout in vain. The announcers stalled! The crowd booed! His team played miserably! (The Phillies won 10-0.) But all that is beside the point. The point: What fecal nickname of shame shall we bestow upon Angel Pagan, problematic pooper of the New York Mets?
Bennifer 2.0 has a bun in the oven. Will and Jada Smith might be breaking up. Amy Winehouse's toxicology report is complete. Katie Holmes has a "cupcake emergency." Tuesday gossip struggles to avoid the Kardashians.
Col. Muammar Qaddfi's high-profile son Seif al-Islam was said to have been captured late Sunday night by Libyan rebels — a claim that was repeated by the International Criminal Court in the Hague where Seif is charged with war crimes along with his father. But early this morning, Seif showed up at Tripoli's Rixos Hotel in a white limo to talk a little shit to foreign journalists. He even took reporters on a guided tour: "We are going to hit the hottest spots in Tripoli."
One week ago, for the duration of rush hour, officials shut down all four downtown San Francisco BART stations — the heart of the commuter subway system — in response to a small protest by Anonymous. Today, the hacktivists are back. Whether the chaos returns is up to BART.
