We dislike giving any unnecessary PR to [bad designer], the L.E.S. twit who duped the free NYC paper Metro into putting him on its cover for a racist publicity stunt about a (probably nonexistent) attack by a pack of young black girls on a poor "victim" wearing a [bad designer] t-shirt that said "OBAMA IS MY SLAVE." But sometimes it's important to give coverage to those shining beacons of stupidity among us, so that we all know how not to act. Jewish Week tracked down [bad designer, who's Jewish] for an interview about his bad reputation. Sample: "'I've received death threats on the phone, especially from black people,' [b.d.] said. How did he know, over the phone, their ethnicity? 'They sound African-American.'" There's more!

Central Park: it's sacred space worth billions. But it will be public forever! It will never be sullied by the hand of commerce, or turned into a commercial venue! Except for the huge silver Chanel "Mobile Art pavilion," modeled after a Chanel handbag, that will descend on the park this fall. But it's really an art exhibit, you see, and Chanel is giving a huge donation to be able to put it there, so the commercial angle is totally superfluous. Except that all the freaking art is "inspired by Chanel's classic 2.55 quilted-style chain handbag." You clever bastards. Larger picture of the alien-looking new kind of ad in your life, below:

If you didn't have the 500 or so free hours necessary to explore the virtual architecture of the NYC doppelganger "Liberty City" in the latest version of Grand Theft Auto, here's the quickest way to do it: by helicopter. After the jump, a video of a virtual helicopter tour of the artfully rendered version of Manhattan-you can see the Chrysler's building spire from above. At the end, the chopper's passenger ends up in the river:

The multi-tentacled jellyfish menace is loose in New York waters and nothing you can do will stop it! Quickly, swim, swim for shore, damn you! The floating blobs of fury are breeding as we speak. A swimmer died during the New York triathlon last weekend, and while doctors say there's no evidence a jellyfish sting was involved, the media is doing its part to keep you safe; no fewer than four newspapers today run stories about jellyfish, and how you definitely should not PANIC about their invertebrate invasion. They're replacing sharks as the media darlings of the sea!

A tipster tells us that Mark Bulliet, an editor at NYC's throwaway free morning paper Metro, has been fired. The reason: Bulliet was the editor who oversaw Metro's embarrassing front-page story last Thursday about a girl who was supposedly attacked by four black girls because she was wearing a t-shirt reading "OBAMA IS MY SLAVE." As we told you last week, that story's only source was the crappy designer who had sold the t-shirt, and it's likely the whole thing was a tasteless, racist publicity stunt that Metro fell for. A source tells us that Bulliet had an intern do the story despite its incredibly poor sourcing. We've emailed Metro for a response. If you know more about the fallout, email us. [Previously]

Metro, the free paper best known for causing track fires on the NYC subways, ran a cover story yesterday that is totally indefensible, even by the lowly journalism standards of free morning papers. Radar spotted it: a front page splash about an innocent grad student girl who was supposedly attacked by four wild young black females because she was wearing a t-shirt with the slogan, "OBAMA IS MY SLAVE." The paper's one and only source? The untalented media whore designer who sold the mystery girl the shirt. (We would feel dirty giving him more PR than necessary, but it was this prick). But guess what, Metro: we got that press release too. And if this whole story isn't a hoax, I will personally buy one of those shitty shirts.

Ladies and gentlemen, the proud new owner of the FSU Middlebrow Remix Version of Keith Gessen's All The Sad Young Literary Men is Andrew Krucoff-the former "Gawker Mascot" once fired by Conde Nast for leaking to this website. He was also recently called a "pussy" by the author in question, Keith Gessen! You can see the circle of life turning, turning. So what will become of this coveted and (we daresay) historic volume? All can now be revealed:

Manhattan residents often find themselves dreaming of the paradise that is Houston, Texas. The cars; the affordable barbecue; the murders. It's a working man's promised land. But why must some people have the bad fortune to get stuck in NYC, while others live the dream by breaking free and making their way to the sweltering heart of Texas? Luckily there's a Harvard economist to explain exactly how Houston came to be so much better than New York!

The New York subway poster art vandal, despite receiving widespread acclaim from the cognoscenti who determine who's hot these days, continues to work just as hard as when he was not yet being compared to Banksy (who, let's face it, is totally over now that we know who he is, maybe). He's retained his "ironic sloganeering" theme, and is moving strongly into "messing with faces," as well. Here are five of the anonymous subway vandal's latest ad remixes; steal them immediately, as investments:

Just like giving out condoms makes kids have sex and giving out clean needles turns upright citizens into junkies, the government must protect us from public service ads more likely to destroy us than to save us. Concerned about all the horny bastards rubbing up against women on subways, New York City had an anti-groping ad campaign ready to be rolled out to the sicko public (that's you). But they had to scratch that. These ads would just set you perverts off even more!

The New York subway system is taking full advantage of its plan to sell all flat surfaces for advertising, including the outside of trains. The latest and most appropriate sponsor of the metal cattle car that you squeeze yourself into every depressing morning: Mad Men, the acclaimed show about advertising! Even if you barely miss your train as it pulls away, leaving you frustrated and abandoned, you'll still be educated about the existence of Mad Men. Sweet. More pics of the hellaciously busy interior of these message-wielding cars, after the jump.

The Black PR Society of New York had its summer mixer at the huge rooftop lounge at 230 Fifth in Manhattan on Wednesday night. But apparently the 40-person group hadn't reserved it for a private event or something (although the website says "Reservations are not necessary since we can very comfortably accommodate over 1,000 guests at the same time"). So the club's owner, Steven Greenberg, did what any logical, businesslike man would do when he sees 40 black professionals at his lounge listening to a speech from a prominent national political pundit: "I told them, 'I would like all of you out of here immediately.'"

There's a huge exhibit at the New York Public Library right now called "The Real Men and Women of Madison Avenue," dedicated to the greatest examples of advertising ever. Funny that the public library is one of the few public spaces left that hasn't sold all its wall space to advertisers (we think-haven't been in a library since they invented the internet), but ads got in there through the back door anyhow! The educational back door. But we're going to save you the trip; after the jump, five classic ads from the exhibit that sum up everything the ad industry has ever taught us:

Pat Kiernan is the aw-shucks boyish news anchor on NY1 and everybody loves him. His is the gentle face we all see first thing in the morning, easing us into the day with good cheer and sobriety. He reads from the city's newspapers in a soothing 8-minute segment every morning called "In The Papers," which has captivated thousands and thousands of people. It's really quite impossible to explain to outsiders just why Pat Kiernan is the greatest newsman in New York, except for his jolly, bumbling colleague Roger Clark. Anyhow, Doree (the nice ex-Gawker one) wrote a profile of the man for the Observer, full of interesting Kiernan trivia. Did you know he hosted The World Series Of Pop Culture on VH1? We did, because there's a clip of him reading the lyrics of "My Humps" in his competent, Canadian voice. What are you gon do with all that ass inside them jeans, Pat?:

Clay Felker, the founding editor of New York magazine, died today at the age of 80 after an extended illness. The Missouri native got his start in journalism as a magazine writer for titles like LIFE, Time, and Esquire, but he will go down in history as the man who codified a method for chronicling the elite of New York, while providing a platform for the city's best writers. He's responsible for creating the only real glossy city magazine that is also a good magazine on its own merits—unapologetically elitist, but not blinkered. And slick enough to justify it all.

After the Pride Parade and all the happy partying that will follow, ride the trains in groups this evening because a man was attacked by gay-bashing thugs last night on the 2/3 train near the Christopher Street stop after volunteering at a Pride event. He says the police haven't caught his attackers. "The guy kept asking us to move because he didn't like us and [said] that we made him sick. There was no place else for us to go. He started hitting me and then his girlfriend started clawing me with her nails...I took a cab to St. Vincents, filed a police report and got two black eyes, 7 stitches, multiple chipped teeth, broken glasses." [Gothamist]

A 20 year-old model jumped to her death in Manhattan in an apparent suicide yesterday. "Ruslana Korshunova, 20, whose face has graced the cover of French Elle and Russian Vogue, apparently jumped from her ninth-floor apartment in her Water Street building in the Financial District just before 2:30 p.m. 'I heard what sounded like a gunshot or a bomb or an explosion,' said a stunned Con Ed worker talking to a cop nearby [...] Cops said there were no signs of a struggle in the one-bedroom apartment, where she lived for only two months. And the balcony from which she plunged had construction netting around it that appeared to have been deliberately ripped."

Sloane Crosley, author, popular publicist, self-effacing autobiographer, HBO series subject, gossip monster assembler, big ass chronicler, partygoer, and etiquette specialist has a new video interview out, and damned if she's not commenting on us and the rest of the "snarky urban jungle." Whoa, you write about somebody 27 times and all of a sudden it's like they can't stop talking about you. It's okay though—she thinks all this vicious online gossip is a net positive(!), a view that I tried to get across to Keith Gessen at his party, without success. Perhaps he will be persuaded by listening to his pal Sloane! Watch Crosley explain why she tolerates Gawker and its commenters, but Village Voice readers made her cry, below:

One of the many types of slimy little men we have to purge from our fair city is profiled in the New York Times today. "Some people see models all the time. They recognize these creatures despite their oversize sunglasses and disheveled hair. They can look past baggy shifts and mismatched patterns, beyond gaudy makeup and cheap earrings. These people are called model scouts, and their numbers include Roman Young of Elite Model Management, who chose Union Square as his hunting ground one Saturday in May." The vile "hunt" after the jump.

Anti-American socialists like the watchdogs at the Anti-Advertising Agency often point out that the advertising industry is—without exaggeration—one of the biggest vandals in New York City. Illegal advertising includes everything from entire sides of buildings and scaffoldings covered in banner ads without permits, to virtually the entire "guerilla marketing" and "street team" industries. All those things are, technically speaking, vandalism. So the NYPD's vandal squad should be breaking down ad agency doors daily, right? This handy pie chart puts the law enforcement situation into perspective. Click to enlarge. [via AAA]