On my way to work today—my last!—I stepped on a dead rat splayed out on Crosby street. At first I thought it was poop. And then I looked down and realized that at one point, the squishy mess had been a rat. I couldn't tell which was worse: dog poop or rat corpse? They feel the same under your foot. Then I realized that was as apt a metaphor as one could find on Crosby Street for my time at Gawker. Just kidding! (About the metaphor part. I totes did step on a rat on the way to work and it was gross.)