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Magazines. They just don't satisfy, somehow, all niched up and specific and all about one thing to make advertisers happy. Why can't magazines address the multiple people that we are? Why can't they reach, and stretch, and maybe purr a little? So finally we've designed our dream magazine. We seek investors who believe in the power of print! more »

The date: May 30th
The time: 11p.m.
The place: La Esquina, 106 Kenmare Street
Sighted: Zach Braff hanging out with an attractive petite blonde babe at the end of the bar at La Esquina
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Dina Lohan is Lindsay's enabling mom, a freckly cougar, and... a seriously shady compulsive liar? Page Six levels a serious accusation against the professional stage mom today, claiming that an "exhaustive search" of records at Radio City Music Hall reveals that Dina was never the Rockette she's always claimed to have been. "It's like claiming to have a degree from Harvard when you don't. It's a big deal to be a Rockette," says their source. Well, yeah! This is way more serious of a lie than the ones about whether Lindsay is a drunk (remember "Noooo! She is just a 20-year-old who had to reel it in"?). Now we definitely know that Dina Lohan is not to be trusted.

Mom Dina's Missing Career [NYP]
Related: Lindsay's Mom Hogs Spotlight [NYP]

Restaurants, like poker players, have certain tells, minute signifiers that betray a whole constellation of facts. Restaurant Tells is your decoding ring to the restaurant scene.

As far as restaurant mascots go, the general rule of thumb is that if there is one, you'd be wise to go elsewhere. A mascot connotes a kind of corny emphasis on gimmicky presentation that often belies a underwhelming menu. Think of Long John Silver of Long John Silver's, for example or KFC's Colonel Saunders or that white dude from Cracker Barrel. Does the French Laundry have Blanche the Happy Kenmore? Does Le Bernadin have Bernie the Jolly Gaul? God no. But this structure of sign and signifier is completely disrupted when the mascot is a French Bulldog. The bouledogue française ranks as one of the most popular mascots of New York City restaurants, and surprisingly of some really good restaurants. more »

Sorry, Michael Chabon! The Picador paperback that's Oprah's next book club selection turns not to be The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, as many had predicted. Instead, Oprah's curveballed American ladies again by assigning them Jeffrey Eugenides' big fat Greek multigenerational family saga about a man-lady, Middlesex. Also, Galleycat was totally wrong, though we did enjoy their totally batshit 'Jonathan Franzen redemption via Corrections re-pick' theory.

94 years ago, liar H.K. McCann launched his NYC ad agency with the slogan "Truth Well Told." That was a big fat lie. Advertising copywriter Copyranter brings you instances of advertising lies and the lying liars who sell them.

I've already told you how to do my job. But first, you have to get my job. I get a lot of emails asking the question: 'copyranter, how can I get a job like yours that pays me a ridiculous amount of money for being stupid?' Why, even former Gawker intern and current stone cold stud-about-town Neel Shah was curious!

"Which designer is the subject of rumors within his own company that his latest stint in rehab was just a cover while he healed from cosmetic surgery?," asks Ben Widdicombe today. Huh, well, Marc Jacobs has been looking fresher and tanner and gayer of late, but also less drug-addled. And have we really reached the point where a drug relapse is less embarrassing than a face-remodeling? Also, maybe the answer is "both?"
[Images: Splash News]

The Webby Awards will be announced this week, and they threw a concert and pre-party last night at the Box. I went along with Nikola Tamindzic. Was dude heavy, girl light. Lots of just regular nice guys, kind of good looking, milling around, talking 2.0. And then the curtain opened and Kevin Michael hit the stage. He sounds like Prince, looks like Lenny Kravitz and can reduce a grown woman to a pool of lust and flesh. He opened up with a song about being half black and half white. All of a sudden the assorted sundry and rare females in the audience started gyrating. And the men, their ears impacted with the sweet music of Kevin Michael but their machismo diminished by his surfeit of the same, retreated into booths. Hey, they told themselves, he might have the girls now—but I will once I win a Webby! Yes. Good luck with that.

Visitors to the Brooklyn Museum beware! Teen girl bandits are roaming Prospect Heights, sneaking up on folks and boppin' 'em on the head. Too bad the wee gangsters are too lazy to hop around the corner to Park Slope... so far.

"I guess, kids do bad things at times," said Bob Biegen of the Prospect Heights Association.

"It would be great if they could be caught and someone could just sit down and talk to them about life and how it should be lived."

Tween bandits terrorize shoppers in P'Heights [Brooklyn Paper]

This Saturday, the rich and very rich gathered up in Greenwich, CT. (How unusual!) The occasion was the Ivy Cup, a charity polo match between the teams of Harvard, Yale, Cornell and Princeton. The group met in the main concourse of Grand Central Station: a sea of wide-brimmed hats, well-pressed slacks and day-glo green VIP wristbands. They'd chartered a train up to the CT where the chukkers would be played. Bud Lights and Diet Cokes were stored in large Tupperware tubs. The hours flew by like a cloud on a windless day. The rich don't sweat. Also, we managed to create possibly the largest and most fascinating photogallery in history, courtesy of photographer Laurel Ptak.
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"The Ethicist" is Randy Cohen's long-running advice column in the New York Times. Each week, Gabriel Delahaye's "The Unethicist" will answer the same questions as "The Ethicist," with obvious differences.

This week, Michael Grimaldi's wife takes care of his pole, and Allison Moule puts her head somewhere the sun does not shine. And you're right; they're not afraid to use their real names.

Professional liberal gasbag Eric Alterman was arrested in New Hampshire on Sunday at the Democratic debates. He was charged with criminal trespass, after venturing uncredentialed into some fussy media VIP room.

Police say he was asked by an executive at the party if he was invited to the private area and was asked to leave. A police officer was called after a verbal altercation ensued. He was asked by police seven times to leave, and police say he became increasingly loud as he refused. After ignoring a final request, police say he was handcuffed and taken from the building.

Columnist/author arrested in spin room [Political Ticker]

Ladies and germs, Blue States Lose presents to you the top ten Misshapes, Cobrasnake, Last Night's Party, and possibly Ambrel party photo moments of the week. Your host Alex Blagg knows exactly what sort of humans you must not see to retain your sanity. Pity the real victim—yourself! The eyes! They burn! Take that, Kansas City! more »

Click to enlarge.

Previously: Kulturkampf

In the real New York, bar bathrooms serve as fitting rooms for trying on potential pairings, an all-important step before making that one-night commitment. Luckily for us, Slut Machine has been around all the blocks. In this occasional column, she rates which restrooms of N.Y.C.'s watering holes are best for non-traditional restroom activities. And then you call her a slut in the comments, you perceptive creatures you.

Williamsburg's K&M; bar (at 225 N. 8th Street) is on my short list of places I frequent because I'm too lazy to leave my neighborhood. The bar doesn't get as overcrowded as other neighborhood haunts—and that's a good thing. Especially when you have dubious endeavors on the agenda. And when I say dubious endeavors, I mean events that begin with snorting a "usable amount" of a drug off some guy's johnson. more »

The Bancroft family, which holds the controlling interest in Dow Jones, has decided to meet with their hungry suitor, News Corp. head Rupert Murdoch. The family (or "The Family," as they put it; very Godfather) issued a statement that says that over some metaphorical linguine, they've perhaps come to find the offer attractive.

I-banking blogger turned debut novelist Dana Vachon's roman a clef Mergers and Acquisitions was published, to much hullabaloo here and even a little bit of hullabaloo elsewhere, on April 5. Today, we looked up its sales using Nielsen Bookscan (which only tracks approximately 70% of retail outlets). We predicted it would have sold around 8000 copies—in keeping with Ben Kunkel's Indecision about two months in. But not quite. According to Bookscan, it has sold 6425 copies.

Rod Townsend (aka our commenter Momo), sometimes receives telephone calls from The Past, a mysterious entity that remembers where things used to be in New York before Starbucks and Whole Foods came to town.

"Hello?"

"God bless Amerifuckinca, Criscocrotch!"

"The Past? I've never known you to be so patriotic."

"Dude. Clinton's got the country going in the right direction! The economy's great, the city's striving, and I totally just banged a soldier."

"Where would you meet a soldier?"

"Since it's Fleet Week there's little G.I. Ho's swarming the streets, but I got mines at Club U.S.A.!" more »