Not Evidence, But Neither Is Telling Haldeman You Love Him

Oh I won’t explain that reference. Go rent DICK and figure it out. Annnnywhoodle. I was bored as a eunuch on the moon today so I did a little digging into what my sources mentioned to me.

Seems someone has in fact been slithering about seeking a new residence:



Now, he either plans on hiding his evening gowns and high heels for special dress up alone time, or some reason must exist that is forcing him to seek a new place to live. Perhaps the answer is in someone’s newly updated Facebook Status?


She was born in Virginia? What the hell? Oh, sorry. Anyway, status is now “Single”. Sources say she and her beau were very much all over each other as of a month ago, and more recently she put down large sums for a yacht birthday party for her now trim Tyson.

This could be a case of putting together information to form a pattern (does that make me a Census computer?) or it could be the opening of a story that a lot of people seem determined to squash. Either way, I’m less bored now.



Megatits McCain Still Thinks People Are Listening To Her


Meghan McCain, daughter of someone who was relevant a year ago, is SO SO THANKFUL that a bunch of middle america mall walkers are like, a new kind of Republican:

[T]he current frenzy seems to be all over my “pro-sex” comments a few weeks ago on the Beast. Obviously, the most sensational part of anything is what sells, But I am very happy that these things always bring new viewers and readers into what I’m working on. That’s evidenced by the feedback I get. I’m always encouraged by the positive comments from so many about changing what it means to be a Republican by simply speaking out. Some of you know it can be tough because there’s lots of people who are ready to criticize that message, but I know anything worth fighting for isn’t easy. Thanks always for your support.

I’m sorry, did you read any of that? I mean, look at  her tits.



I'll Have What Ev Is Smoking

I don't get it.

Evan Williams, twitter’s constantly sort of bewildered co-founder, has finally figured out what his passenger side rear view mirror is trying to tell him:

Adult faces look giant after you stare at a baby for a while.about 7 hours ago from txt

No really. That’s how his brain works. Next week, Evan tells us how he discovered a new comet based on a conversation with his ravioli.



Embo Cannot Just Make A Fucking Point Already

How's that coke workin out for ya?

Emily Gould, author of the blog version of My Dinner With Andre, continues to inflict her fast paced blogging adventures on the intarwebs.

Today a guy across the aisle from me took out his cell phone as soon as we came above ground.  This is something people do a lot on the bridge, take out their phones and check their messages or make quick “I’m running late” type calls in that two-minute window.  I have even been known to check my email, which is obviously diseased of me. Anyway, this guy took out his cell phone, which is standard, but then instead of checking his messages he narrated the view to the person on the other end of the line.  He was looking northwards, and facing back towards Brooklyn — so he was on the opposite side of the train that this video was taken from — and describing the pylons of Dumbo and the smokestacks beyond.   Maybe the person he was talking to had never been across the bridge, or had been across the bridge thousands of times but now for some reason could not make the trip herself, and had to do so by proxy.

(Alice notes: That was ONE PARAGRAPH, kids.)

Embo, here’s a tip. Now, I’m no fancy schmancy writer person like you. But I can tell you one thing – you aren’t Emily Gee Dee Bronte, so cut it out with the 20 minute paragraphs. Make your point (if you have one) or shut the hell up! Christ, I can’t believe that your Close Friend Julia Allison doesn’t just call you up when she has her manic induced insomniatic episodes. I can’t even read past the 3rd sentence without wanting to either snooze or booze.

Get a grip woman!



Paultato Head Will Not Just Admit He's A Hack

I'm drinking because I am SO HARDCORE

Paul Carr, TechCrunch’s worst decision to date (although that’s not saying much), has turned on his ’13 year old girl getting her first period’ voice.

When I wrote the last book, thanks to the events described in it, I had no job, no female distractions, no interest in socialising; really no inclination at all to leave my flat in East Dulwich. At the time, I hated it. I was miserable. But my God was I productive…

This time I’m also living in hotels…and not one of them – not one – boasts a comfortable work space. Beds, yes; bathtubs, certainly. But desks and chairs? Forget it.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure what has changed. He’s still a miserable limey with no real demands on his time. Oh wait, I see! It’s that geedee twitter that’s the culprit!

NCIS is on. A friend emails with plans for this evening. Something happens on Twitter. Distractions distractions distractions.

Now I understand. f**king twitter and emails from your one friend. Does the world not understand you have The Great Douchebag Novel to pen? Oh well, surely after taking care of such pressing things as getting some coffee, watching Sliders reruns, and popping off 140 characters of your razor sharp lolarity, you can hunker down to work!

My sandwich has arrived. There goes the afternoon.

Forget it. I tried to be understanding, but you’re a tool. Just write, Paul! You aren’t crafting the Most Important Book Of Our Time here. It’s just another table leveler full of run on sentences about Paul Carr.

Christ, seriously. I am sick of these professional jackasses whining about how hard their creative process of watching tv and b****ing to Lucita about the empty mini-bar is.  I have a full time job, and I SOMEHOW manage to see to three blogs, twitter, and 3 email accounts. If you can’t manage to scrounge up a chapter a week in addition to the verbal colon cleanse you call your column, then you picked the wrong career. Just admit it already!



David Karp's Girlfriend Attacked By Crab

crab attack

Yesterday we reported that David Karp’s friend for sex, Rachel, had crabs. Today we learn that Rachel was apparently injured in a vicious crab struggle! Karp tries to make it sound like no big deal:

Rachel hurt herself 🙁

We know the truth. Crabs are evil, angry creatures with nothing but revenge on their minds. Get well soon, Rachel. And watch out for crabs.



Poor Stupid Cary Thinks She's Wicked Important

you  eejit

Some webtard named Cary Randolf, friend of Meghan Asha and some BusinessWeek teabagger I’ve never heard of, seems to think she is mego mego important because she got a basic souvenir pass to Fashion Week:

Good morning from Bryant Park! Gaze upon my all-access press pass, acquired with a little help from Meghan Asha at Nonsociety and Larry Chiang at Business Week. Now I really can go everywhere!

That’s weird; when I read her pass, I see this:


Uh…yeah, that sounds like exclusive! all! access! to me. Psyyyyyche.