Good news, hip hop fans! It looks like the City of New York is going to save the building at 1520 Sedgwick in the Bronx, a.k.a. Sedgwick and Cedar, a.k.a the BIRTHPLACE OF HIP HOP, from destruction [NYT]. It's where DJ Kool Herc first started throwing parties and cutting records in 1973, leading eventually to those sweet, sweet hip hop sounds. Bad news, hip hop fans: a nightclub in Kips Bay just agreed to pay a $35,000 fine for keeping out black patrons in "urban wear" clothing, but letting in white people in the same clothes. When will the struggle for equality in crappy nightclub admissions end? Below, a documentary clip on Herc and the founding of hip hop in the building. Do the knowledge, yall.

Life is good when you work at a nightclub hot enough to host Paris Hilton's birthday party. Doormen at Pure, the biggest club in Las Vegas, are said to clearing up to half a million dollars per year [Las Vegas Review-Journal]. And that's before whatever extras they can sell, nahmean? Unfortunately for them, it's also before taxes; on Wednesday the club got raided by the IRS.

Michael Musto tells us how to be a "nightclub star" in his latest Village Voice blog! His advice is quite thrifty: "Track down the person with the free drink tickets and tell them you love their outfit," and "wear your absolutely shittiest coat. This way you can just drape it on a banquette rather than check it (thereby saving three bucks). Better yet, flirt with the DJ—no doubt named John—and he'll let you leave it in his booth. " Or do what I do: wear a cheap, ridiculous wig, and surround yourself with crazies. [La Daily Musto]

The HuffPo features Michael Musto in My Favorite Mistake, the column in which they ask luminaries about the big mistakes they learned from. The Village Voice gossip/nightlife columnist reveals that he "purposely sabotage[s] opportunities to get bigger" and is comfortable with being "the alternative weekly guy in the corner." However, he's really torn up about the massive ad campaign he could've been in—if only he hadn't sent the them that one pic of him in a hoop-skirted dress. The year was 1987. The ad campaign? Amaretto di Saronno liqueur.

Amy Sacco's launch of a branch club in London last year was taken as another perfectly-timed move by the designated "queen of New York nightlife" (Vanity Fair). The neighborhood of the Amazonian entrepreneur's original Bungalow 8, in the 20s of Manhattan, has been overtaken by cheesy megaclubs, and celebrities have defected to newer, less obviously wanky spots, like the Beatrice Inn. Escape to London, the world's hot megacity of 2007? Brilliant! Except the nightclub business is local; Sacco's London network is thin; the charismatic hostess is rarely there; London's suffering as much as New York from the credit crunch; and the British offshoot, at the St. Martins Lane Hotel, is dead, according to our London friends.

Since time immemorial, or since maybe 2004, we have received missives from a person called The Earl Grey, the greatest social documentarian of our time. As frequently as possible, we print these letters as a service to society. Today, he takes us on a journey through the past, recreating the intimate details of New York life in the halcyon days of the fin de siècle 1990s.

Oscar Batori is the 21 year-old "image director" (*snort*) on the Meatpacking district club circuit profiled by the Times yesterday. His job, apparently, is to go to clubs, convince other rich, good looking people to go to clubs, and wear extremely expensive clothing. A $1,500 Gucci overcoat! A $1,000 Prada coat! He does this while simultaneously talking lots of shit about those around him: a guy in a diner is the biggest loser in the world, a fellow model wrangler is "small time," he can't stand bookworms. The mystifying part is that Oscar Batori continues to engage in his reckless coat-wearing, mouth-running, and media-whoring without comeuppance, despite being, quite simply, a skinny ass punk. As these modeling shots of him will attest:

Fashion Week parties, according to one nightclub doorman? "Better-dressed, but otherwise it's the same shit." [men.style.com]

Details Magazine executive editor Greg Williams was caught by a Times reporter sipping Snow Mosquitos, twee blueberry/ mint/ vodka drinks, at a terrifying den of yuppiedom called The Hideout in the already teetering hood of Fort Greene, Brooklyn . Look how precious:

Cordell Lochin, partner in L.E.S. cabaret The Box, Nolita's reservation-impossible La Esquina, and the 205 club, will soon be getting an invite-only box of his own. His other venture-a drug-smuggling ring!-has gotten him 39 months in jail, plus a fine of $35,000. Well, that explains the Box and La Esquina getting raided on the same night. Frequented by the likes of Gisele, Uma Thurman, socialite Fabiola Beracasa, Cuba Gooding Junior, artist Damien Loeb, Atoosa Rubenstein, Lydia Hearst, and Lance Armstrong, the Box hasn't been edgy for like, months. However, a drug-smuggling sentence of one of its backers might make it cool again-at least for a few weeks. [Guest of a Guest]

Blue States Lose is a much-needed weekly investigation into the trends and mores of the young. Going where the cool-hunters are too afeared to tread, via the party pictures on Cobrasnake, Last Night's Party, and Nicky Digital, our pal Alex Blagg teaches us about what the young have become while we were busy doing nothing.

A federal judge on Thursday refused, at least for now, to order a hearing at which the government would have to explain in detail the destruction of C.I.A. videotapes showing the harsh interrogation of two suspected Al Qaeda operatives. So while you're waiting for that to get resolved enjoy these pictures of idiots partying from Cobrasnake and Last Night's Party and Nicky Digital as they are mocked by Alex Blagg.

Yesterday David Foxley, the thin, sexy and VERY white reporter of the Observer, made mention of the new hotness at Cafe Carlyle. "Whereas the cabaret-restaurant used to close after the last act ended at around 12 a.m., it now stays open on Thursday thru Saturday nights until the party dies." Oh, doesn't that sound hot?

LXTV used to be a website. Now it's syndicating to NBC with the memorable title "LXTV 1st Look NYC." (Save the Bartender. Save the World). Uh. Anyway, for their first show they took viewers to a hot new club on 52nd Street. It's called Touch! The director of operations' name is Sauce! And Pedro Andrade, your host and Lance Bass' once and future lover, has come up with the worst sign off since Colin Quinn's "I'm Colin Quinn, that's my story and I'm sticking to it."

Blue States Lose because while their residents are running around in eyeliner and panties on the outside of their pants and SPARKLY HATS, the red state people are building houses and making industry and going to block meetings and wars! WE SUCK. Here's some pictures from the suckitude, collected from Cobrasnake and Last Night's Party and Nicky Digital by Alex Blagg!

Siberia, the Hell's Kitchen bar that was a home away from home for legions of disgruntled alcoholic journalists, closed in May. Its owner, Tracy Westmoreland, has been promising ever since that the bar will reopen. Now he's saying it louder!

From today's Page Six, Ex-pornstar "Jenna Jameson and Heatherette designer Richie Rich are opening a bar together in Chinatown—and they couldn't have picked a better spot, although they won't say exactly where. 'It used to be a whorehouse," Richie told Page Six. The bar [is] to be called The General Store.'" [NYP]

Actor/writer/onetime TV quizmaster Ben Stein laments the imminent shuttering of his favorite L.A. power eatery, where he went to observe the restaurant's A-list patrons, become entangled in feuds with Joan Rivers, and get ignored by a new generation of celebrity trainwrecks: "At its peak, however, Morton's was the ultimate. In 1994, it moved across the street, and it was better than ever, with more space between tables, more light and, best of all, it was open for lunch. In fact, it was at lunch there that I saw and fell hopelessly in love with Britney Spears. (She ignored me.) BUT times change. I have no idea where the beautiful people went, but fewer of them were going to Morton's. (Many big players now have their own chefs.) It still drew a rich crowd, but not the famous crowd it used to have, and the gorgeous girls who used to be at the bar were gone. [NY Times]

Marquee progenitors Noah Tepperberg and Jason Strauss (who were the subjects of this Grigoriadis-Schoeneman... piece of writing) recently celebrated the second year anniversary of their Vegas shitshow Tao. That's where this picture was taken. Strauss looks more and more like Carson Daly mixed with a character from "The Incredibles." Tepperberg looks something like a 40-year-old suburban dad, as he pretty much has since he was 16. [DBTH]

Last we heard, recently-busted sort-of underground gay party super-hangout Mr. Black wouldn't be back until January. Now they're saying it's coming at the end of November! With like a 500-person occupancy! And a night devoted to Baltimore Club, to which we say, hell yes. It will be somewhere—possibly in the Financial District? [Next]