Just dying to spend the day outdoors, frolicking in the chilly rain? Have we got the event for you, then. It's exciting, it's suspenseful, it's something you've always wanted to see! At 12:30 p.m., in Madison Square Park, I Can't Believe It's Not Butter! — and, for the record, we can't believe it still exists! — will unveil its brand-new spokesman. Yay! A passer-by reports that the finalists are four soap stars you've never heard of, and that "two poor schmucks in tuxedos" are spending their morning passing out flyers promising the unveiling will go on rain or shine.

Because apparently the County Clerk's Office finds "Hymietown" distasteful.

For what it's worth, we are very much aware that many of you readers, plus half the population of China, are currently unable to view the Gawker Stalker Map. If we knew what the problem was, we'd put on our rubber gloves and have a word with our servers, just to knock some sense into the fucking things. But these delicate matters are above our paygrade, and we only wear our rubber gloves after 10 PM. We're told that the tech gerbils are currently handling the situation and things will be fixed ASAP. Keep the faith.

And, come to think of it, America's Funniest Home Videos finally makes sense when viewed as the work of the Antichrist.

• Interactive slideshow Trashiscapes features images decorated with "expressive lines of cocaine." You're already there, aren't you? [flavorpill]
• At the inaugural Beg Yr Pardon party at the Delancey, $5 gets you 5 bands, free brownies, and all-you-can-eat BBQ. Can't say we've heard of the bands, but brownies and BBQ? Those we can heartily endorse. [BegYrPardon]
• Tonight. Union Square Barnes & Noble. 7 PM. You. Anderson. 360 degrees of lust.

Apparently today is the day of the beast. It's hard to get too worked up about it — in our world, every day is beastly (we are not an unhairy people, after all), and we've had many a personal apocalypse.

That's right: we're temporarily lifting our ban on Ethan Hawke, just this once, because his adventures in bagel-ordering are too amusing to be ignored. You know the routine: Sightings are sent in by readers and posted to our Gawker Stalker Map. This is our occasional, texty compilation. Send yours to tips@gawker.com.

• Basic Instinct but without the va-jay-jay: Adam Rapp directs cagelove, a psychosexual play, at the Rattlestick Theater. [flavorpill]
• Garrison Keillor of A Prairie Home Companion fame gives a reading tonight at Barnes & Noble. Ask him what it was like to work with Lindsay; he's never gotten that one before. [Paper]
• Joan Jett hits the Bowery Ballroom because, well, she loves rock'n'roll. She also has some other songs, apparently, so head down and see what that's about. [Prefix]

We've yet to confirm anything, but our BFF Perez is reporting that Page Six editor Richard Johnson was arrested last night for drunk driving. On our end, we know that he was holding court at Soho House around 11 PM, but we didn't notice any more slurring than you'd expect of someone in that godforsaken place. Though he was waving around car keys and singing Leader of the Pack at the top of his lungs. So maybe...

Friday:
• Playing tonight and tomorrow, Ain't Supposed to Die a Natural Death is a musical about black ghetto life. Now there's a sentence you never thought you'd read. [flavorpill]
• Jon Voight continues his ill-planned quest to gain access to his grandaughter Shiloh tonight at the Village East Theatre. Also, there's a movie. [Paper]

We don't know how we missed this till now, but apparently Mister Softee himself — 78-year-old James F. Conway Sr., who founded the ice-cream company 50 years ago with his late brother, William — died Sunday in Ocean City, N.J. For true devotees of his rich, creamy, truck-vended frozen delight, we'll point you to a memorial service scheduled for today in Haddonfield, N.J., down near Philadelphia, that you might like to attend. Not so much a fan? We'll point you to the same service — and suggest you sit in a car outside it, incessantly blaring a repetitive jingle. In tribute, of course.

In today's most excruciatingly obvious news, a scan of former WWD staffer Peter Braunstein's brain has revealed that — surprise! — he's mental. Images reveal that Braunstein has frontal lobe deficiencies consistent with schizophrenia, which should help his legal team bolster his insanity defense. So sayeth the expert:

Sightings are sent in by readers and posted to our Gawker Stalker Map. Send your unprotected starfucking to tips@gawker.com.

• EMERGENCY — some sort of multi-disciplinary good cause — launches tonight with a fabulously adolescent benefit. Which means go-karts and booze. Seriously, why are you not there already? Holasek Weir Projects, 547 W. 21 street @ 11th avenue, 7pm - 1am.
• Anime: the stuff of high school lepers and real world hipsters. Kihachiro Kawamoto leads them all, and anytime you get to watch cartoons and call it art gets our approval. [flavorpill]
• What could actually entice you to New Jersey? Pearl Jam, that's what. Or Joe Cocker. What's the difference? [Upcoming]

Last month, Power 105.1 radio host Star threatened to urinate on the daughter of Hot 97's DJ Envy, saying on air, "I would like to do an R. Kelly on your seed, on your little baby girl." Star was promptly fired, but yesterday his attorney, seeking to have criminal charges against Star dropped, told the Daily News that Star's comments were in response to Envy's sidekick Miss Jones' on-air comments about Star. Jones allegedly called Star's mother a "prostitute" and his father a "tar black" "Sambo." And now, today, those on Team Star are taking to the Hot97 building, where every hip-hop star goes for a good shooting, to defend Star's desire to molest DJ Envy's daughter. After all, that bitch started it.

100 Slaps [Toocoolforlife's YouTube]

Good news! Despite whatever Western-directed rage that may have been sparked by Katie Couric's indulgent farewell parade, terrorists aren't going to bother New York. Or so says the Department of Homeland Security, which cut NYC's terror funding by 40% yesterday, from $208 to $124 million. Though the city is still receiving more funding than any other area, New York is also absorbing more than half of the overall funding cuts.

It's that time of year. It's warm, it's sunny, and it's not too humid yet. Barbecuing seems the perfect way pass a Sunday; a front-stoop beer is the perfect end to a long of work. It's the time of year, in other words, when the leafy blocks of brownstone Brooklyn start looking utterly enticing, even to many dedicated Manhattanites. But wait! Are things really as peaceful and tranquil on those blocks as they seem? Perhaps not. This week's Brooklyn Papers report some shocking news:

• P.S. 122 hosts Leftover Stories To Tell, a 5-day theater extravaganza created from the work of Spalding Gray. If you're one of the five or so people not actually in the show, grab a seat and join the fun. [PS 122]
•Michael Cunningham, of The Hours fame, is apparently too Pulitzer-ed and important to spend more than more one night with you people, so this is it. Hear him read from his new book Specimen Days tonight at 7. [Symphony Space]
• Since you haven't heard his mealy mouthed song enough, James Blunt is playing a free, all-ages show tonight at The Cutting Room. Yeah, that won't be crowded. 19 W. 24th St., doors open at 7.

Sightings are sent in by readers, fact-checked by no one, and posted daily to our Gawker Stalker Map. This is our occasional, old-school compilation. Send your celebrity gawks to tips@gawker.com.