When heir to the New York Times throne A "to the muthafuckin" G Sulzberger joined the paper as a cub reporter last year, we asked—for journalism reasons—whether he had a girlfriend. Now he has "spilled the beans," love-wise!

Last Friday we showed you a blurry photo of an underwear-clad white man draped over the Wall Street Bull, dead to the world. Our first guess: Jesus himself (he's not young any more), serving as a powerful metaphor. But no:

Yesterday the formerly-secret face of awesome (suck it, haters) street artist Neckface was revealed to the world. Now we have, possibly, two more photos, which is kinda interesting, I'd say:

Neckface is a famous street artist—not quite Banksy famous, but almost. And like Banksy, Neckface has always kept his face hidden, even though he's been profiled in the New Yorker and he has a shoe deal with VANS that includes billboards across NYC and is generally superfamous in the cool parts of the art world. Well now a fashion blogger has posted a picture of Neckface unmasked, at some party at Art Basel in Miami. Click through only if you want to see him, okay:

Several months ago I found out that someone had hired a private investigator to go blundering around my hometown, harassing old acquaintances and trying to dig up dirt on me. I wrote all about it here. Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the situation. Another private eye has been asking around about me here in NYC as recently as last week. But here's the good part: I now know who hired the PIs to go after me. They were angry about things I've written. To the culprit(s)—and I know you'll read this—now is your chance to email me and explain yourself. You should do so in the near future. If you don't tell me your story, you may find that someone else has told it for you. [I also know that there are people who knew that this was going on, but who were not responsible themselves, and who believe the whole thing was sleazy. I encourage you to email me as well.]

Those of you who were not among the meager handful of readers to click through our post yesterday about this mystifying Josh Hartnett short film for the New York Times missed a truly incredible answer to our question: What the hell is this all about? Commenter VirusWithShoes responded with a disquisition that reviews the film— and the nature of life—at a level of detail that is astounding, and absurd. The fact that someone who is (presumably?) working at another job during the day had time to write this is amazing. And scary. Reprinted below for your pleasure, the entire cinematic comment.

The unknown haircut man of Brooklyn, previously known only by this crude drawing, has been located. He's currently sitting right next to me at Cafe Grumpy in Greenpoint [UPDATE: He's gone!]. His name is Chris, and he has never heard of Gawker. Good for him! After the jump, an actual photo reveals the man behind the mystery.