The next time someone asks "What happened to Trash Bags?" the answer is, "She's bitching to Life & Style Magazine trying to get herself cast in season two." In the issue of the tabloid that comes out today, she alleges that Snooki and JWOWW want to beat her up and The Situation texted her, "Be prepared to get your ass beat, you pale rat bitch."

The even better claim is that when she was in L.A. with the rest of the cast taping the reunion show, she hooked up with DJ Paulie Dangerous, but then they went out the next night and he hooked up with another girl right in front of her.

This is all just a play to go to Miami for season two, we suspect. She's trying to show she'll bring so drama with her that it would be a mistake not to invite her back. But don't do it, MTV! It was she who decided to part ways with the greatest sociological experiment of all time. And for that she should be punished!

Jerry Seinfeld Admits The Marriage Ref Is a Failure
Usually focus groups are created to, ya know, harness a show's focus. So when Seinfeld announced on Regis and Kelly today that people don't understand that The Marriage Ref is supposed to be funny, he's basically admitting it isn't funny.

Keep your Caulk out of Gretchen Carlson's Butt
Black market butt implants are never a good thing, but hearing Fox and Friends' Gretchen Carlson say "injected with caulk" is almost worth the tragic hospitalizations. Unlike Regis and Kelly, on Fox, caulk is not a joke.

Bradley Cooper: "Ken Jeong's Penis on My Neck Was Very Normal"
Chelesa Handler dived into the important questions while interviewing Bradley Cooper: his gay movie roles and Ken Jeong's manjunk. Bradley talks about his role in Wet Hot American Summer and how "that scene" in The Hangover came to be.

Whoopi Channels Valley Girl Heidi Montag on The View
Talking about Heidi Montag's managerial switch from her husband, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, to personal psychic consultations, Whoopi Goldberg imitated the New Age California girl and won Barbara Walters' ultimate accolades for her ditzy-voiced impression.

Sports Mascots Behaving Badly
The history of sports mascotting is fraught with violence. Well, not really. But sometimes mascots can take things a little too far, resulting in pissed off fans or people dressed as cartoon animals punching one another in their plush faces.

As we described last week, Mark used login data of early Facebook members to break in to the private email accounts of two Harvard Crimson editors, according to instant messages viewed by Business Insider. He also broke into the systems of competitor ConnectU and changed user profiles, also according to IMs.

Mark now oversees private data of 400 million people as the CEO of Facebook.  Questions have been raised about whether this 2004 behavior violated laws and whether users can trust the company to keep their information from being misused.

We reported the details of these hacks last Friday. Here's a quick recap: In May 2004, as a sophomore at Harvard, Mark Zuckerberg learned that the Harvard Crimson was working on a story about the founding of TheFacebook.com, a site Mark had launched three months earlier that evolved into Facebook.  According to instant messages viewed by Business Insider, Mark searched the site to find users who identified themselves as members of the Crimson's staff. Having located several accounts, Mark then scanned a log of failed logins, which members had entered while logging on to the site. Figuring that Facebook users might have accidentally entered the passwords to other services, such as email accounts, Mark tried the failed logins of these Harvard Crimson staffers on their email accounts. In this way, Mark successfully accessed the private email accounts of at least two Crimson staffers and read at least 11 emails, according to the IMs we viewed.Also in 2004, Mark Zuckerberg hacked into the systems of a rival social network for college students, ConnectU, and deactivated some accounts. 

Since first reporting these hacks last week, we asked Electronic Frontier Foundation's top privacy lawyer, Kevin Bankston, about the legality of such behavior.  Bankston says it could have violated laws:

An email break-in like the one that's been alleged would likely violate the federal criminal statutes that regulate electronic privacy and prohibit computer fraud, and depending on the hacker's motives could even rise to the level of a felony punishable by up to five years in prison.

Specifically, lawyers tell us, Mark's 2004 actions could have violated the following laws: Unauthorized access to communications in electronic storage is a violation of federal law 18 USC 2701(a). If the motive behind Mark's actions was commercial advantage or private commercial gain, this crime is a felony — punishable by up to five years in jail. If the intent was not commercial, the crime is a misdemeanor, punishable by one year in jail. Unauthorized access to a protected computer is a violation of federal law 18 USC 1030(a)(2)(c). Again, if the crime was perpetrated for commercial advantage or private commercial gain, it is punishable by up to five years in prison.  Additionally, if this law was broken in order to facilitate a second crime, such as 8 USC 2701(a), it is a felony.

The statute of limitations of both these federal laws is five years, so Mark is safe from federal prosecution. In Massachusetts, however, the general larceny statute (Mass. Gen. L. ch. 266, § 30), which doubles as computer fraud statute by covering theft of "electronically processed or stored data," has a statute of limitations of 6 years.  If the value of this data exceeds $250, this crime is a felony punishable by up to 5 years in prison.

The EFF attorney, Kevin Bankston, added that "these allegations — in particular, the troubling accusation that Facebook users' information was misused to enable the claimed email hack — raise serious questions about whether or not 400 million people should be entrusting their online privacy to Facebook."

We also asked Harvard University about Mark's actions, which occurred while he was a sophomore. Harvard would not comment specifically on this situation:

"The Administrative Board considers each case on an individual basis and we do not comment on cases involving Harvard students, faculty, or staff. We also do not speculate on how we might respond since all decisions are based on thorough review of the specific facts presented and the students' responses to those facts."

Ben Edelman, a lawyer, privacy hawk, and Ph.D at Harvard Business School, was startled by the email break-in, as well as the way in which Mark Zuckerberg acquired the information necessary to do it:

No one expects a web site to retain a mistyped password, and certainly no one expects a site admin to use that password to access a user's account on another site. When a user logs into a site, the user rightly expects that his password is used only to authenticate his connection — not to gain access to the user's other accounts on other sites. Users naturally trust that site admins will respect the confidentiality of users' information and especially users' passwords.  For an admin to take a user's password, and use it to access other sites, is a serious violation of users' expectations.

Given all this, we had three questions for Facebook:

Does Mark regret his 2004 actions?

Facebook gave us a similar response to the one it provided last week: "We're not going to respond to allegations from unnamed sources." The company has not denied that the break-ins took place.

Does Facebook still retain users' failed logins?

Facebook did not directly answer this question.  It provided a general discussion of how it views login information:

The login is one of the most important barriers to unauthorized access to accounts.  As such, of course we do lots of analysis over how it is used and have many related sophisticated systems as a result to prevent brute force and other attacks.  However, we do not discuss these measures to protect their effectiveness.

Does Facebook have safeguards in place to prevent all employees from improperly accessing user data, or is such access simply punishable after-the-fact?

Facebook:

The privacy and security of our users' information is of paramount importance to us.  While, for security reasons, we do not publicly disclose all of the safeguards we have in place, we have advanced internal tools that restrict access to information to those who need it to do their jobs (an example would be someone on our User Operations team who helps people fix problems with their accounts). 

A cross functional committee of senior employees decide on a case by case basis who gets access to these tools. Most employees do not have access to these tools at all.  In addition, employees who are approved to access these internal tools must sign an agreement and complete an extensive training program beforehand.  Finally, we track the actions performed through internal tools, each use is logged and requires the employee to explain the purpose of his or her use, and we audit all of this regularly.

Republished from www.businessinsider.com

Gyms scare me. There is nothing in the world that reduces me more quickly to an undersized, frizzy-haired 12-year-old than stepping into a new gym where everyone else knows the complicated setups, the locations of the lockers, how to sign up for spinning classes, and what to bring to class.

Not that I want to do any of these things, mind you. I like to walk, and I like to ride my bicycle, the Vista Sophisticate, in the most dilatory fashion. I join gyms, the very few times I have, purely for step aerobics, the one form of organized exercise I can tolerate. But when forced to endure variations - involving weights and circuits and equipment - I am invariably the one without her own mat, who didn't bring a towel, or who doesn't know what the resistance band is for. And I only do step aerobics because various medical professionals are always telling me exercise will benefit my migraines and my depression and the other things that are wrong with my brain.

The only time I found belonging to a gym remotely congenial (which is to say, I went more than once) is the one I joined in Paris at a student rate. It was one of the first "American-style" gyms - indeed, they'd imported a bunch of hard-bodied, enthusiastic instructors from the States - but the attitude of the gym-goers was very French indeed. No one dressed in appropriate workout clothes, with the possible exception of the purple-haired old woman who, preparatory to kick-boxing, wrapped her hands like a boxer. Half the class would leave midway through for a cigarette; others would simply stop when it became unpleasant and stand on the sidelines, looking baffled and irritated. That was about my speed.

I hadn't belonged to anything since never going to the Greenpoint Y two years ago, but the other day, in a fit of self-improvement, I picked up a flyer from a newish spot in an unfamiliar neighborhood and resolved to make myself go before I changed my mind. I signed up for a three-class deal and scheduled a spot in some kind of total-burn-circuit-leaping workout that was taking place the very next day.

My trepidation began, as it invariably does, when I surveyed my exercise wardrobe, which is highly unconvincing and makes me look, at best, like a college modern-dancer, even though I wasn't one. Still, I donned my red sneakers, my cut-off yoga pants, my fairly crummy sports bra and an old Grossinger's t-shirt, packed a change and a water bottle into a "Barney Greengrass: The Sturgeon King" tote, and was on my way.

My heart was hammering as I pushed open the door and was confronted with an efficient receptionist, one of those healthy mini-snack bars full of powerful waters, and the sound of people being efficient on complex machines. Pre-paid pre-paid pre-paid rang in my ears. I tried to feign jaunty confidence as the receptionist pointed me towards a locker. I deposited my tote and made for the bathroom. I pushed open the door.

"IN HERE!" shouted someone. I noticed the "please knock" sign. I was badly shaken, and had to pee, but I didn't want to be standing outside and be recognizable as the intruder when the pee-er came out. I made towards the room where my class was taking place and stopped dead in the doorway. Oh no. About five - only five - beautiful, fit people of both sexes in real exercise gear, the kind from Lulu Lemon or Stella McCartney for Adidas - or what I imagine that stuff looks like - were assembled. One was stretching. Two were bantering with the equally intimidating instructor. They all turned to look at me. My vision darkened. I swayed. I wasn't a mature, confident woman who can laugh at herself and interact with anyone I went to high school with on the subway. No, I was a terrified animal, a creature of instinct caught in a predator's gaze. A wave of pure, unreasoning panic washed over me, and, without thought, I turned and ran. I grabbed my tote from the locker with a slamming of doors and sprinted out the door and down the stairs, muttering "Gotta leave," in the general direction of the startled receptionist.

Once outside, I breathed hard as relief washed over me. Then came the shame. A combination of self-disgust and dismay at the ten - no, 30, since going back was out of the question - bucks I'd swallowed washed over me. I'd had this happen before, once in a Spinning class and once at a highly intimidating Turkish bathhouse where no one spoke English and I hadn't realized I needed to bring my own robe and that it would be full of leering old men in towels. But mostly I knew this feeling from being in Middle School, and feeling like the whole world was that gym.

I walked over the Brooklyn Bridge instead. I resolved to not tell anyone about my shame and instead told everyone immediately in a fit of self-excoriation. I gave my remaining classes to a fit friend and have been eyeing the grimy Curves in my neighborhood. I guess I need to face my demons and try again - but Xanax and working out, I'm guessing, don't go together (despite a storied L.A. history) and I don't see how this is happening otherwise.

"19 years i've been dealing with this," Clarke told me today. He's talked to reporters about Massa's history of what Clarke calls predatory behavior before. But because the victims of Massa's advances were unwilling to come forward themselves, on the record, Clarke's warnings went nowhere.

That's not the case anymore. Since Josh Green published some of Clarke's (many) Massa stories at The Atlantic, Clarke's been busy with interviews. "I've been on the computer for 48 hours straight," he said. He's doing Fox later today. "People are loving the snorkeling thing." That would be this story:

Clarke says that Massa's roommate, Tom Maxfield, was also assaulted. "Tom lived on upper bunk," Clarke say. "When you're on ship, you're almost exhausted 24-7. So a lot of times you sleep with your uniform on. Tom and Massa shared a stateroom together. Massa climbed up on the top of his bunk, which is hard to do—you never crawl up on somebody else's bunk. He wakes up to Massa undoing his pants trying to snorkel him."

Clarke says a friend looked up "snorkeling" on Urban Dictionary after the story started getting around. Those definitions were slightly more obscene than theirs. "I was just using it as a substitute for oral copulation," he told me. (Attempted, non-consensual oral copulation, it should be noted.)

Maxfield and Massa had roomed together for a while, and were friendly. After this incident, according to Clarke, Maxfield didn't know what to do. Massa "begged and pleaded with Tom not to turn him in."

"Massa gets on his hands and knees and he's sobbing," Clarke said. And while he was begging, Massa told Maxfield about a friend on another ship he'd served on. That friend and Massa said had an understanding. According to Clarke, Massa said that understanding was: "What happens at sea stays at sea."

A couple years after the snorkeling, in 1997, Clarke met a Naval officer a few years younger than him in San Diego. Massa, it turned out, was this guy's commanding officer. "He's a huge asshole!" the guy said. "Everyone hates him!" They exchanged stories. This was his:

"He used to take his laundry down to the self-serve laundry on the ship," Clarke said. Which is odd, because everyone else used the laundry service. But the self-serve laundry was right by the berthing, where junior officers slept and showered. So Massa, the ship's Executive Officer, "just happens to be doing his own laundry at 6 am right when everyone's waking up."

"He was freaking totally meat-gazing!" As Clarke imagined Massa's internal monologue: "Who needs Playgirl when I can just come down here and pretend I'm doing my laundry?"

After the "Massa massage" incident (Massa rather forcefully attempted to give a subordinate one of his special massages while they shared a hotel room) Clarke says everyone on the ship "Lt Commandr Massa-ge."

The Mark Foley page scandal broke when Massa was running for congress. Clarke got an unsolicited email from an old shipmate: "I guess Massa is pretty pissed off that that Rep from Florida blew the lid off this Page scam," his friend wrote. "I bet he was chomping at the bit to get to DC. Now he's gonna have to work instead of going after little boys."

Clarke paints Massa as slightly pathetic. No one ever took their complaints to superiors because "they felt sorry for Massa." He was a "freak" and an "asshole," but he was also a competent officer. And Clarke feels especially sorry for his family. He's coming forward now—largely against the wishes of his friends—because he doesn't want anyone else to be victimized. "For years he's been abusing people and getting away with it."

Massa's 2006 campaign alarmed Clarke. "This guy's running for congress and he's molesting people!" He called a TV reporter in Rochester, NY, and told the stories of Massa's gropey tendencies. The reporter got Tom Maxfield to confirm the allegations, but then he told Maxfield he was going to fly him out and get him on camera. That spooked Maxfield, and he backed out. The reporter abandoned the story, despite having confirmation of serious misconduct by a man running for congress. Clarke emailed the reporter this week—"you should stick to weather and traffic," he told him.

Clarke wants it made clear that the Massa incidents are not by any means common in the Navy, as Massa himself has claimed in interviews. Clarke is sick of potshots at the Navy, and sick of people snickering about the outrageous stories on TV. "There were no boundaries being broken," he told me. "A guy was assaulted!"

As for MSNBC's coverage of the whole affair: "If I ever have a chance to see that O'Donnell guy I'm gonna pop him."

As I said, what Clarke wants is to tell his stories on his own terms and in his own words—and he'd like to do it on Howard Stern's show. Which, honestly, would make great radio. So if anyone from Stern's program is interested, I'll get you in touch with Peter Clarke. You won't regret it.

[Top pic: Getty]

The title of last night's episode was "Be My Friend, Tyra!" in reference to Tyra's MyFierce page, for which only the finalists would be accepted as friends. For the semifinals, the girls had to shoot a profile picture, and create a "Netwalk" video of their runway walk. My main question is: Why did she name it MyFierce when Fiercebook would've made a much better pun?



It's fitting, I guess, considering the inanity of the rest of the show. Speaking of which, the girls just about lost their minds over the excitement of meeting Tyra in a Sheraton hotel.



Judging by the 90-minutes that aired last night, this Cycle might be the best one in while, because the casting is so incredible. These girls know how to make a soundbite. Some of my favorites:
"My two life goals are to be like, a Victoria's Secret model or Hillary Clinton."
"I don't want to date white guys because…I don't want to see a pink penis. It makes me think of raw meat."
"I believe I only have one chance to live."



Naturally, the best was Angelea's definition of "the bitch, please look."

Also during semi-finals, we learned why sex between a gay man and Tyra would never produce a child. They can't seem to figure out what goes where. Insemination: You're doing it wrong.



Speaking of genitalia…



Oh, and being an ex-cult member is the new transgenderism/Asperger's syndrome/endometriosis/dyslexia/degenerative blindness/etc. You know, producers always make sure there's at least one contestant each season who has a "thing" that she's dealing with.



Naduah's parents were part of a sex cult, which is endlessly fascinating to me in that way where I like to intentionally scare myself with creepy true stories. However, I have a feeling that we're not going to get that much back story on this because it might just be too unsettling.

I also thought it was kinda crazy that the girl from the sex cult had to endure being hit on by the other contestants. But I don't know, maybe Naduah's desensitized to it.



All I kept thinking about when Alasia said that was, "If?" You're wearing multiple wallet chains, a leather vest, fingerless gloves, consider yourself a "biker chick," and find yourself attracted to a woman. As Angelea would say:



So that's as good a segue as ever to talk about Ren's underarm "makeover." She doesn't shave her armpits because of "health" and "women's rights." If those two things are priorities in your life, might I suggest a different career path? (I'm not talking about modeling, so much as reality TV.)



Other quick thoughts:
Elyse the sequel:



Denise Richards?



Wear gloves when applying hair dye, next time.



One of the worst makeovers evs:



If this girl is "plus-size," then what am I? Costco size?



"Tyra Mail" this Cycle is part of the whole "social networking" theme in that words are deliberately misspelled.



The episode ended with Mr. Jay telling the girls that they would be modeling nude for their first photo shoot. My reaction was kind of like this:



And when I realized I'd have to wait until next week to see the results, my reaction was kind of like this:

Dr. Steven Bratman — once an alternative medicine practitioner, now an urgent care doctor — coined the term "orthorexia" in response to patients who were avoiding more and more foods. When we spoke on the phone, he said, "the typical refrain, week after week, was: I'm not feeling well in such-and-such a way, what else should I cut out of my diet?" But when he told one patient she had an eating disorder because she had restricted herself to 15 foods, "she thought that was a joke, because how could eating healthy be an eating disorder?" Bratman decided to give orthorexia a clinical-sounding name in order to combat the fact that "people saw it as a virtue."

Now that his term has taken on a life of its own, he's a bit skeptical. He says that while many people are probably "overly-obsessed with diet" and "should lighten up a little," those who truly endanger their health in a quest for dietary purity are probably rare. He speculates that orthorexia could be a variant of obsessive-compulsive disorder rather than anorexia, and adds that the disorder has "a religious quality to it." He points to extreme raw-foodism, some of whose adherents teach "that the great enemy of man is the cooking stove," as an example of such religiosity. Given that food has become so deeply moralized in our culture, it's no surprise that some might approach eating almost religiously — or that a few of those who do might take the practice to dangerous extremes.

The most interesting part of our conversation, though, was Bratman's assertion that "I'm not actually sure there is such a things as unhealthy food." He clarified that it "is probably impossible to know [...] what food is healthy for you," and explained,

You can only use observational studies, you can't show cause and effect, and it's incredibly complicated. And major epidemiologists talking about lots of areas think that it's probably impossible to tell what's healthy and what's not healthy in terms of lifestyle from the studies that we have. It's a fact that's frustrating, one would like to obviously know and the desire to know is so great that people are willing to imagine they know even when they don't know, but it's really hard to make any statement about the healthiness of a type of food [...]

Observational studies (as opposed to controlled experiments in which different groups of people are assigned to different behaviors, which are very difficult to conduct in the case of diet), he said, can reveal large effects like the effect of smoking on health. But the effects of different foods are likely so small by comparison that "There's no way that you can separate that out from the other factors and so it's quite likely that we don't know and we'll never know what are good foods to eat." For those who consider themselves healthy eaters, this sounds disheartening — and certainly many people, both in medicine and in the food industry, would likely disagree. But Bratman also pointed me to an essay he originally published in 1997, in which he chronicled his own struggle with orthorexia and critiqued alternative medicine's excessive reliance on dietary restriction. He wrote,

Dietary methods of healing are often offered in the name of holism, one of the strongest ideals of alternative medicine. No doubt alternative health practitioners are compensating for the historical failure of modern medicine to take dietary treatment seriously enough. But by focusing single-mindedly on diet, such practitioners end up advocating a form of medicine as lacking in holistic perspective as the more traditional approaches they attempt to correct. It would be far more holistic to try to understand other elements in the patient's life before making dietary recommendations, and occasionally to temper those recommendations with that understanding.

This last seems like good advice for traditional doctors as well, and indeed, for anyone: diet can be an aspect of health, but it isn't everything, and when "healthy" eating gets in the way of living, it can be more a disease than a cure.

Health Food Junkie [Beyond Vegetarianism]

Earlier: Orthorexia And The Continued Misunderstanding Of Eating Disorders

Maybe your next comment will make the "Live Blog Sweet 16"—like the 16 below from last week did. Tonight's live blog post goes up on Gawker at 9 pm Eastern, and the show starts on Lifetime at 10. See you there!

• belltolls: A hardware store? On the level?
• AnnieSaBu: I'm sorry, molding bodices out of metal "has been done"? When? The feudal era?
• Old Ocho: Wait, Luz is Spanish for Light. So why didn't Maya buy light bulbs?
• robina: I swear, it is not an accident that Mila looks like a Romulan. Everything she makes could work as a costume on some alien who seduces Captain Kirk.
• Sheryl with an S: "If you can pull this off, it'll be phenomenal." Reminds me of what I said to the first boy to unhook my bra.
• Spirit Fingers: Oh, Emilio. There really are no words.
• tipsy_hausfrau: @Spirit Fingers: There really are no clothes!
• Old Ocho: Emilio: "Can you do the makeup so that nobody notices she's wearing a weighted metal thong?"
• eleusiswalks: When I said he was making a Barbarella costume earlier in the liveblog I was joking. I didn't think he'd actually do it.
• naugahydeinplainsight: Thank God they didn't do this show out west where they sell barbed wire.
• GaddafisTentPitcher: True story: Amish is in. My mom has about a dozen Amish people books. They're the new vampires.
• Lilah: Whoa, those guest judges should NOT be seen in HD.
• missing_piece: "I wanted to make a strong sexy woman, so I dressed her up like a dirty whore."
• Lizawithazee: I didn't realize Romulans can shoot death rays out of their eyes.
• otterbird: "Mila, you may leave the runway and go back to plotting the murder of your fellow contestants."
• unclevanya: Back to Six Flags with you, Pirate Boy!

In 2000, Scott Brown was a freshman state representative in Massachusetts. A few years earlier, he'd served on the Wrentham, Mass. Board of Selectmen. Jennifer Firth, a local mortgage banker who was elected to the Board of Selectmen in 1999, filed a civil defamation suit against Brown in July of 2000, alleging that he had harassed her when she worked on his campaign in 1998, and then tried to smear her reputation around town with forged letters and emails.

According to Firth's complaint, Brown engaged in "offensive" conduct that caused her to quit his campaign; he then tried to "defame and humiliate" her by spreading rumors to her colleagues that she "had made sexual advances" towards him during his campaign. She also alleged that Brown told several people that he'd had an "intimate relationship" with her and that he had a stack of sexually explicit letters that Firth had sent him. In her suit, Firth says that she'd never been sexually intimate with Brown, nor did she ever send him the aforementioned letters. A 2000 article in the local paper, the Sun Chronicle reported that Brown had denied the charges; for her part, Firth said she felt that filing the suit was "the only way I could stop this."

The case then took a strange turn. Two days after the lawsuit was filed, Jennifer Firth's lawyer, Harvey Schwartz, filed a motion to withdraw as her counsel, saying that "to the best of [Schwartz's] knowledge, information and belief, the above allegations [by Firth] are not supported by 'good grounds.'" The next day, Jennifer Firth withdrew her suit. It was dismissed with prejudice, which means it can never be re-filed. Brown told a local newspaper that her lawyer had decided to withdraw after he was presented with letters and e-mail messages that proved she'd been harassing Brown. The day after she dropped her suit, Firth claimed she'd done so because "her lawyer told her she was unlikely to win it."

Firth's story is certainly an odd one. Why would she have gone to the trouble of filing a suit against Brown only to drop the case so soon afterward? And if Brown had any evidence to support his claim that it was Firth who had been harassing him, why did he never release it publicly? To be sure, it's possible there was no merit to Firth's case. And it's worth noting that Firth has had other brushes with controversy in her county.

But why did Democrats and members of the national press fail to even bring up the fact that Scott Brown had once been accused of sexual harassment and defamation in the myriad stories about him prior to Massachusetts' special election in January? Google it. The entire incident is conspicuously absent.

Consider the political stakes. Coakley's loss cost Democrats their 60th Senate seat, endangering a long list of President Obama's political objectives such as health care reform. Yet Martha Coakley, the state's Democratic attorney general who ran against Brown, never mentioned the issue on the campaign trail, as far as we can tell. Did the Coakley campaign look into the case and decide Firth's claims were baseless? Did they miss it entirely?

The Democratic leadership in Washington did not, as far as we can tell, raise the harassment claim at any point during the election, even though it could have been used to raise doubts about Brown in the lead up to what was a very close election. Firth's charges may have been baseless. But many politicians have seen their political prospects damaged by far less than allegations contained in an actual lawsuit. Why didn't White House chief of staff Rahm Emanuel feed this to liberal media outlets in an effort to discredit Brown? Clearly, if the situation were reversed and it had been a Democrat in a high-profile special election who had a harassment and defamation suit in his past, the story would have been a talking point on Fox News for weeks.

We've left messages for Senator Brown, Jennifer Firth, and her former lawyer Harvey Schwartz. We've yet to hear back from any of them.

DOCUMENTS: Firth's complaint, her lawyer's withdrawal, and the subsequent dismissal of the case.

[Photos of Brown and Coakley via Getty Images]

Not a whole hell of a lot happened in the episode. I mean, a girl was blinded with a gin and tonic and Tinsley cried a whole ocean of tears, but I think that's pretty par for the course for rich, upscale socialite folks. Maybe we should just do an introduction to all of the characters so you can get the lay of the land, eh? OK.

Paul Johnson Calderon
Paul Johnson Calderon is a gay cricket that lives in Times Square. No, actually, he lives with his mom and is always begging her for money from his trust fund. In this episode he needed $25,000 so he could move out and get his own place and eventually have a family, that's all he wants, a family. His mom wearily sighed and said "You just spent $200,000..." But PJC doesn't give a flying eff. He demonstrated this attitude by saying "I do what I want!" while limply throwing a diet soda can out a limousine window. This girl is independent. Now where's that $25K? PJC is friends with a person named Malik So Chic, who is basically a gay, bald, bespectacled Li'l Jinx. The two of them have wild adventures in the big city that include throwing drinks at their enemies. Yes, PJC has this enemy named Jules Kirby who he really hates. The two of them ran into each other at an AIDS benefit, which is always the time and place to fight about stupid petty personal problems. That really shows that you care about the AIDS. Anyway, at the AIDS afterparty, the two got in a squabble and PJC accused Jules of burning down a country house and then he threw a drink in her general direction that ended up in a mutual friend's eye and the poor girl shrieked and shrieked and shrieked and her eye fizzed and sizzled and now she wears an eyepatch, skittering around the darkened Upper East Side streets in the still of the night, planning her revenge. It will come in the season finale, one hopes.

Jules Kirby
A gay-bashing racist who hates Jewish people, Jules is your typical near-feral New York party girl. She's got exhausted, oily features and a fried expanse of brassy blonde hair and drinks a lot. In her little intro package last night she told the camera that she doesn't hang out with "homosexuals" or Jewish people and as far as race goes, she thinks it's OK to say the n-word and, anyway, she only likes white guys. So, sorry to that line of black would-be suitors waiting anxiously with roses in their hands, wanting so desperately to date this 44-year-old Jessica Helms. Jules is unfortunately no into you. Go on now, scatter. Go back to where you came from. You know, Poortowne. Negro's Corners. The Upper West Side. Wherever. It's just not going to happen. Anyway, Jules had a charming scene last night where she was yelling at the staff of the hotel where she's living. She lives with Tinsley's sister Dabney and they're sort of between apartments right now (Jules works, but is cut off from her wealthy parents' money supply) so they're staying at the Empire Hotel and something was wrong with the room. So Jules called down and did a lot of yelling and insulting and totally embarrassed everyone, saying things about the recession and throwing the phone across the room in disgust when asked to apologize. Later on her friend got blinded by a drink meant for her and you really wish it had been her, writhing and screaming in pain, clutching her eye socket, like the wretched Elle Driver in Kill Bill. The real problem with Jules is that she's sooo isolated and spoiled and fattened by money that she doesn't even know what she's saying. She's never suffered a real consequence, not once, so she just blabs her mouth wondering when someone will stop her. At this point, I mean she's 52 years old, I don't think anyone will.

Dabney Mercer
Dabney didn't do much this episode other than stare in horrified resignation as Jules murdered a hotel employee with her bare hands. Once Dabney had cleaned up all the blood, they put on their nice clothes and went out to the big AIDS party. There Jules made jokes about PJC having AIDS, y'know because he's a homosexual, and Dabney kind of smiled as if it was an acceptable joke to make. Jules grunted, pleased with her little joke, and swilled back a drink and broke the empty glass over a waitress's head and then, when the poor woman was moaning in pain on the floor, Jules kicked her in the stomach and said "Umm... can I have another drink puhleeeze?" And Dabney just stood there and fiddled her fingers over her lips, back and forth really fast, making a funny humming noise. Later, when they got back home, Jules had her way with Dabney and when the littlest Mercer woke up the next morning, shivering on the coffee table, still wearing one shoe, she wondered where she took the wrong turn. What a life!

Dale Mercer
Dale is the old lady whose vagina Tinsley fell out of and now the woman is trying to rule Tinz's life and it is very unfair. Dale is all buttoned up and refahhyyned. She's a Southrun lady who somehow ended up on the Upper Jewish Side and that's all she can abide of this filthy city. When discussing Tinsley's new post-divorce apartment, a sprawling loft in midtown, Dale referred to it as "the Midtown." As if to sound so removed and faraway. "Oh I don't know. They tell me there's a Midtown, but I've never been to the Midtown. Why would I want to live in the middle of town?" Other than real estate snobbery, Dale's other beef with the Tinz's current state of being is that she doesn't like this whole divorce thing. Topper Mortimer was a perfect young husband — from money, works in finance, is white and American, is named Topper. And now Tinsley is dating some sleazy Euro, a German prince!, and Dale thinks she just might faint and die. First it's a German, then it's a Jew! That's how these things work. And living in the Midtown in some sort of one-room apartment with no furniture. Just dreadful. Dale Mercer didn't scrape her way out of a two-bit trailer field near Gulfport for this. No siree Bob. Didn't sleep with John V. Lindsay, twice, for this. You can bet your biscuits that Tinsley will be out of this shithole in the Midtown and back with strapping young Topper by year's end if Dale Tatum Mercer has anythin' to say about it.

Tinsley Mortimer
Tinsley, obviously, is our hero. Her life is a pretty fabulous stream of party dresses and sad dibborces that leave her crying on her big plastic bed as the movers take her furniture from the old Married apartment, wishing wishing wishing that she could go back to when she was a little girl and things weren't quite so scary and big and pointy and difficult. Or at least back to a couple of falls ago, when she was still married to the Mr. Top Hat and she lived in the big pretty house near the green, green park. Now she's just stuck by her lonely old self in this big echo-y room in a strange part of town and she has no idea where she is. A man on the street said that it was the Diamond Towne and another one said that she was in Korea so she doesn't know. Things are so hard. All dusty and noisy and full of Jules attacks. Sometimes Tinsley thinks that she can hear Jules rustling around in her closet, muttering wicked things and scritch-scratching on the door, trying to get out. Tinsley pulls the covers up to her chin and says prayers, Hail Guadalupes, over and over and over again. Guadalupe was Tinsley's trusty maid and best friend and confidant and one-time emergency dentist who was from Farawayland and had to go back there because her stupid old daughter had a baby and Guadalupe wanted to help her out. Guadalupe used to make little meat pocket snacks and hum Faraway songs and fluff pillows and open the shades when there was sun and close them when there was too much. Tinsley supposes that last thing doesn't really matter anymore, because all the sun in the whole wide world is gone now, and she's just lying on a plastic bed and sobbing, carried away by the mover men, a new Day of the Trucks, rumbling away back to the Midtown, with the dresser and the chairs and the long hallway mirror. Oh Topper. Oh bottom. Tomorrow Tinsley will put on a new dress and a big bow and smear a smile on her face and go outside and be happy, look happy, but for now there is only crying on the plastic bed, only the rumble of the truck as it carries her away from the halls and the little creaks and the once-warm rooms where she used to live.

And that was the show!

The Daily Mail Wednesday reported that its correspondent posed as a 14-year-old on Facebook and was solicited for internet sex by older men "within 90 seconds" of setting up n account. It turns out the correspondent was using a different social network, and purportedly told Daily Mail editors as much, repeatedly, before publication. Whoops.

Facebook is threatening to sue, despite an apology from the paper and a rewrite of the online story to eliminate reference to Facebook. No wonder: The social network is especially touchy because some British politicians say it could have done more to prevent the death of a 17-year-old recently murdered by an older man who lured her with a false Facebook profile.

But the Daily Mail is an old hand at fighting off lawsuits and navigating controversy. The tabloid faced a storm of criticism over a column raising questions about the "sleazy" death of gay musician Stephen Gately, even though the death was officially chalked up to natural causes; it published Ian Halperin's epic account of the last days of Michael Jackson; uncovered the identity of Banksy; and cataloged the troubled childhood of Christian Bale.

So we're thinking Facebook has met not only its mirror image but its match. As shocked and angry as the social network's soft Silicon Valley flacks might be, they'll eventually realize that a loud fight over which sex predators are on Facebook and which aren't is not to its PR advantage.

And, more important, a company that finds itself apologizing as frequently as Facebook can't afford to tell another indiscreet media entity that "sorry isn't good enough." That would be a very costly stance.

(Daily Mail pic via BBC)

"I was seventeen when I met Corey," Sloatman said today. (We've been tracking down some of Haim's lady co-stars for their recollections.) "There was a nightclub for underaged actors at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel that was called Alfie's Soda Pop Club. I met him there – it was like, Alyssa Milano, Nicole Eggert, and Corey was there."

"He was so funny and jovial -– we got along really well and laughed a lot and played a lot. He was super spontaneous and had an appetite to do anything at the drop of a hat. Almost to a fault in terms of purchasing things. He would buy a new car out of nowhere. We would do laser tag and paintball.

"He was my first boyfriend. I was mad for him. I was crazy about him. We met and started seeing each other right when Lost Boys was coming out and he was about to start License to Drive. I had actually met Corey Feldman outside of Corey Haim, under really weird circumstances – we were both going to court to get emancipated from our parents, and he asked me if I would testify for him. He was there with his next director, Marc Rocco, who directed Dream a Little Dream. He let me read for the movie and I got a part in it.

"It was down to the silliest things. The way his body moved, when he would joke around or dance. It was the age of Tiger Beat and Bop, all those magazines. I was so insecure. I felt like it was me against every other girl in the world. Everybody was mad for him. I'd go into the market, go to the newsstand, and obsess. I think it was a freedom I felt with him to be myself and to laugh and just be free. I felt like he was part of my tribe.

"We were dramatic. We were breaking up constantly. I like, parked outside an apartment he had with his mom in Studio City when he wouldn't return my calls. He'd disappear nine days in a time. I found out later what was going on with him. He was getting into drugs. It was so heartbreaking. My first major heartbreak."

The two dated on and off for about two years, and then stayed in contact only a little. Sloatman herself is a recovered addict in AA, so when she saw him a few years ago out in L.A., she said she tried to help him find a meeting. "And that's the last time I ever heard from him."

Update: About the photo above, Lala says, "I haven't worn red since 1987." As for Haim's hair, she says he loved to dye it different colors. "Once he called and said, 'I have a surprise for you. Meet me.' When I got there his hair was platinum with an electric blue streak in the front. I cried and told him to go right back and fix it immediately."

Suzlbergheir watch: NYT publisher-to-be A "to the" G Sulzberger the Youngest pens a story todayabout a court case in which a father is being asked to pay for his son's sins. Hmmmm.


The predicted BusinessWeek layoffs came down today; about 20 straight layoffs and ten reassignments, according to Keith Kelly. Among the departed: writers Tom Lowry and Michelle Conlin, along with "almost all of the art and photo departments."


A cop in Aspen was fired for giving a drunk local newspaper editor a ride rather than a DUI when she found him out drunk one night. He promised to go easier on her in the paper in regards to some scandalous behavior she was engaged in. Which makes it sound like the public would be better served if he were fired, but whatever.


Michael Calderone says the NYT's top political reporter, Adam Nagourney, "is expected to leave the politics beat to become the paper's next Los Angeles bureau chief." Not sure how this plays into the "DC is Hollywood for ugly people" dynamic, but it clearly does, somehow.

Utah HB 462, which Gov. Gary Herbert signed Monday, stipulates that a woman can be charged with homicide for "the death of her unborn child" unless that death qualifies as a legal abortion, defined as "a medical procedure carried out by a physician or through a substance used under the direction of a physician." In response to criticisms that the original bill could have sent a woman to prison for life for staying in an abusive relationship or falling down the stairs, legislators added the caveats that a woman may not be prosecuted if the death of her fetus "is caused by a criminally negligent or reckless act of the woman" or "is not caused by an intentional or knowing act of the woman." So now a woman has to intentionally induce her own miscarriage in order to go to prison.

Why is this so bad? Utah's not the only state to criminalize self-induced abortion (according to the Times, Delaware and New York do as well), but this high-profile law could encourage other states to follow suit. And as Lynn Paltrow of the National Advocates for Pregnant Women notes in the Huffington Post, the law could make women who suffer miscarriages targets for investigation even without the "reckless" language. She writes, "Because everything a pregnant woman does or does not do can affect pregnancy outcome, it is hard to come up with an example of a law that could be applied only to women who "truly" intend to end their pregnancies while ensuring that pregnant women who do not intend to terminate their pregnancies or risk harm to their fetuses are protected from police investigation, interrogation, arrest, and prosecution."

But perhaps the worst thing about the law is that it subjects to imprisonment women who were probably in dire straits to begin with (as was the 17-year-old who inadvertently inspired the bill by paying someone to beat her into miscarriage). Samhita of Feministing says it best: "Instead of recognizing that it could only be the most oppressive circumstances that would lead a young woman to have someone beat her in hopes of inducing a miscarriage, and therefore creating legislation that protects young women, they legislate against women."

Guv Signs Revised Abortion Bill [Salt Lake Tribune]
Utah Criminalizes Illegal Abortion Charging Criminal Homicide. [Feministing]
Utah Continues Reckless Efforts To Lock-Up Pregnant Women [Huffington Post]
H.B. 462 [Utah State Legislature]

Earlier: The Next Anti-Choice Target: Miscarriage
Good News: Utah Tones Down Miscarriage Bill. Bad News: It's Still Murder

Last night the final eight dudes crooned for their life and, I gotta say, they did well. They did better, and were more interesting, than the ladies. It had a lot to do with song selection, but it also had to do with the fact that the Girls side of the competition is four versions of the same white lady singing and then Paige Miles wandering around and bumping into walls. Whereas the Boys team is five versions of the same white lady. VARIATIONS. If it worked for Diabelli, it should work for Idol.

But here's the real reason the girls officially lost last night. Kara DioGordy cried. Yes, she wept like a nincompoop after Big Mike sang his stirring Kate Bush number and it was the most ridiculous and awful thing any of us have ever seen. I was watching the show last night with an old fellow who liberated the camps during the war. He shook his head at Kara of the Gourds crying there and said "Worst damn thing I ever seen." Lynne Curtin's husband stopped staring at his wife in mild terror for a moment to watch Idol last night and when Kara started crying he thought This is the ugliest thing I've ever seen. It was very, very bad. Not that Big Mike's performance wasn't good. It totally was. But Kara. Kara. This is American freaking Idol, not the end of Gallipoli. You don't cry. The singers can cry if they want I suppose. But the judges?? That is only allowed if you are Paula Abdul. And Kara, I served with Paula Abdul, I knew Paula Abdul, Paula Abdul was a friend of mine. Kara, you're no Paula Abdul. So can it with the waterworks please.

Also, Ellen? If you like Tim so much why don't you just marry him? Did you see when she ran out and hugged Tim Urban after his emotions-lite performance? I don't understand what she's doing on this show. Is it some sort of weird, inscrutable sexual politics performance art? I really hope that's what it is.

So that's why the girls lost last night.

Here's Why the Boys Won
As mentioned above, Big Mike did a nice job. He sang Kate Bush's "A Woman's Work," though I suppose he was really taking his inspiration from Maxwell's version, if Randy Jackson is to be believed. And, actually, he's not, so Big Mike was doing a Kate Bush homage last night. Normally I've found him to be super boring, and he still sort of is — his voice and carriage in performances are rather bland, potato buds from a box rather than mom's homemade heartattack mashed. But he just picked such a great song. Have we ever heard that on Idol before? I really don't think we have. Which makes it an automatic win, as long as it's pulled off with some level of competency. So yes, it was good. Not worth blubbering and stopping the show completely and standing up and clapping robotically while mascara streams artfully down your face, but good. I don't think Big Mike is destined to win the big dance, but this ought to guarantee him safe passage for a least a few more rounds.

Carol Brady with the Carol Brady hair did well again. I don't know. I think I kind of like him. He just sort of has this weird, interesting tone to his voice. He sounds not unlike Jennifer Coolidge's character in A Mighty Wind. But he's always clear and clean and crisp and seems to actually know his limits, which is something of a compliment for this particular season of Idol, for this miserable overreaching theatre troupe. Well done, Carol. I wonder if he misses his son, Johnny Bravo nee Greg. I'm sure he does.

Why the Rest of Us Are Crying
Oh my beloved Egghead Latino. Where did he go? There used to be a guy named Andrew Garcia who was interesting and had big Carol Channing glasses and sang fun, moody reworked covers of pop songs. I don't know where that dude went. He hopped a plane to Biarritz. He rode a bicycle over a hill one day and no one ever saw him again. He disappeared into the abstract. Now we've got something else, a snatched body, an avatar. Last night there was a dark-ish cover of "Genie in a Bottle," but it just didn't feel right, it didn't work. Plus, there's an element of the grotesque in singing about getting rubbed the right way on American Idol. It's just unpleasant. I'm sorry, Mr. Garcia. Might he go home tonight?

Casey Potato Head Johnson is in danger too. I can't even remember what he sang. It was something, y'know, strummy and croony and all that other stuff that he does, or tries to do. But he's such a blur, so insubstantial in one's memory. He's like trying to remember what you did in high school. Not things that happened in high school, but what you did. How did classes work, day in, day out? What did you do on the weekends? I don't know about you, but I can't remember that stuff for the life of me. When I was seventeen, what did I do on a Saturday afternoon? What did Casey Johnson sing last night? I don't know. But I'm sure both involved watching TV.

Dweezil Zappa or whatever that reheated David Cook (recooked?) guy's name is can't really sing all that well, can he? I mean for the world he can, but for the music industry, I don't know. He kind of overthrows it every night, doesn't he? He's going for stadium roar and it just comes out like a reasonably talented kid in a garage band and they've got the door open because it's spring and getting warm and then a cute girl from school walks by so he tries to sound extra Into It and Emotive. But I'm just not sure America is going to want to make out with you at Mike Fenster's party next Friday after hearing that, Dweezil. I'm just not sure that's how it's going to play out.

The teenaged boy who sang "I'm Already There" just makes me sad — a kind of soft, sprawling sad — so I don't really want to say anything about him. He's got miles to go before he's himself, I'll just say.

Urban Renewal
Well, well, well. They liked it, they really liked it. After last week's slight uptick, Tim Urban studied his recent Idol history and busted out the "Hallelujah," Jeff Buckley edition, which served Jason Castro so well during semis two years ago. This has gone from a song that makes pond-eyed 19-year-olds who smoke too much feel deep and weary to a song that makes the souls of pimply explode-o-teens do mournful jigs. Yes being Sad is sort of in these days, like it was almost twenty years ago for a different generation I suppose, and Jason Castro sang "Hallelujah" and then Justin Timberlake sang it (very well) with another dude on the Hope for Haiti telethon thing, so it's just very Now. So it was a clever choice on Timmy Kapowski's part. How'd he sing that shit? Oh, well enough. It was near flat as Nebraska, not dynamic at all, but it'll do, it'll do. One thing that was funny and annoyed me was at the very end (you can see it above) he was like "Hahhh layyy looooooo..." and then took this breathy pause and went "Yahhhhhhhhh." Which, like, a full separated "Yuh" is not a terribly pretty way to end a pretty song. If you go listen to professionals sing the tune, they smooth out that ending, shade it. It was sort of another little cutesy telling sign that wee Timothy Bertinelli has no idea what he's doing.

So who will go home tonight? Of the ladies I suspect it will be Lacey and Paige. Or maybe Katie instead of Lacey. Of the fellows? Well, I didn't even mention Todrick Hall, so probably him. He sang something that Simon declared "Broadway." Great, Simon. You watch this kid drag himself OUT of the musical theater and you keep him on the show this far and this long only to tell him, "Hey, why aren't you in the theater?" Blergh. Other than Todrick... I dunno, dawg. Maybe the sad, Texas-evening teenager.

Sigh. That poor kid. He makes me feel a little like this:

In 2004, then-private attorney Eric Holder, along with Janet Reno and other Clinton vets, signed on to an amicus brief filed with the Supreme Court arguing the absurd position that U.S. citizens cannot be held indefinitely without charge.

Holder et al argued that we could both protect ourselves from terrorist threats, observe the rule of law, and respect the fundamental tenets of justice that this nation was founded on—all at the same time!

But there was a caveat that will soon become 100 times more popular to misquote than "wise Latina":

"It is conceivable that, in some hypothetical situation, despite the array of powers described above, the government might be unable to detain a dangerous terrorist or to interrogate him or her effectively," the 2004 brief states. "But this is an inherent consequence of the limitation of Executive power. No doubt many other steps could be taken that would increase our security, and could enable us to prevent terrorist attacks that might otherwise occur. But our Nation has always been prepared to accept some risk as the price of guaranteeing that the Executive does not have arbitrary power to imprison citizens."

Now, to you that may sound like a very obvious and uncontroversial acknowledgement that a free society will never be able to ensure its "security" as effectively as a police state. But to Dana Perino and Bill Burck, that is proof that "Mirandizing terrorists" will lead to the fiery violent death of literally everyone in America.

They have tracked down and highlighted this crazy radical brief in order to advance their view that in the defense of a completely intangible sense of "security" we must never, ever stop a President from doing literally anything he wants to literally anyone, citizen or no.

They are advocating for an actual totalitarian state, in which the commandant is just replaced every four to eight years. This is a very reasonable position that serious people take in Washington, DC, and neither of them will be laughed out of a television studio any time soon.

[Pic: AP]

"While the gender of women is not the whining, plotting, backstabbing, man-hungry lot the media makes them out to be, those prescribed roles are eventually taken up by women and used to perpetuate and deepen the stereotype leading to even more negative behavior. It is an evil loop that can hardly be broken.

Look at Erika, who interviewed for NPR over the phone, which is the way all NPR interviews are done, because we find comfort in dealing only with faceless voices. She was under the mistaken impression that this was the only vehicle to launch her career as an edgy, alternative singer songwriter. From this it became apparent that she didn't know the mission of our station at all and was not asked back for a second interview. This sends her into a downward spiral of depression and makes her want to leave her house and the social experiment she was engaged in on S Street and go to the nice safe confines of her bed where she can curl up under the covers and cry in the fetal position every day for hours and hours.

It's clear that she sincerely suffers from depression and finds both motivation and positive thinking difficult. She has become the quintessential mopey teenage girl, which not only worsens her condition, since she has a role to fall into, but also lessens it, making her into some cheap joke for the world. Poor, poor sad thing.

Luckily she has an excellent female friend Callie, who always looks on the bright side and is making a name for herself taking pictures of gay biker rallies. When Callie tries to pull Erika out of her depression it is like dragging an eel out of a toilet bowl. But eventually she wins, Erika relents and is determined to stay in this environment Callie has just convinced her is not toxic.

It's a victory for girl power, but one that is quickly subverted by what is going on in the hall. Housemates Ashley and Emily are spying on the whole thing, eating chips and making bitchy comments like they're casually dissecting an after school special rather than watching a real human drama unfold. Emily can't stand Erika's behavior, and can't see that her brain is obviously clouded by illness. She calls Erika "spoiled," a word Ashley used to describe her weeks ago that incited quite the war of words around the house. Now that another woman's cattiness has justified her own, she is happy. Her long-standing grudge has been rectified, and she will make all the girls hate Erika. She celebrates this by clinking Sun Chips with Emily, like they are petty champagne flutes filled with fizzy hatred.

Just as bad is an altercation between two women vying for the affection of Andrew Pandahat, a clingy sort who can't trust girls because his mother cheated on his father. Also, he can't understand why girls always treat him like shit. Maybe it's because he misogynistically treats them like pieces of meat only there to please him sexually. Maybe, Andrew. Just maybe. But finally he finds one that he likes, Andrea, who has been married and divorced already at the young age of 23(ish). Their relationship is going well, even if he's talking about moving in together on the third date.

Back to the women! One night when out at the bar hunting for women in pair formation—a trick Andrew and his friend learned from watching the Jersey Shore television program—Andrew has to entertain the "grenade" friend of a hot girl so his housemate Josh can score. He thinks that men should always choose other men before women. It's "bros before hos" writ large, which would be horrible if all the women who wanted Andrew weren't hos. But this grenade wants him, he wants him bad. She is another Girl, Interrupted, just like Erika and she has anxiety and wears sunglasses in the club because she is sad and her heart is black. She says the reason she is so messed up is because she was bullied by other girls in high school.

Andrea, Andrew's girlfriend, catches them hanging out and gets upset, understandably. Before Andrew can go explain the innocent situation, his Black Widow gets to make her final move, telling Andrew that the other girl is ugly and asking him if he even has standards. She does not believe in "hos before bros," she believes in bullying another girl so that she can rebuild her crumbling self-esteem with the approval of a woman-hating man. Andrew does the right thing, and leaves her behind for his real connection with Andrea, who immediate forgives him and becomes his girlfriend. She wants that approval too.

All these girls want to do is fight with each other. Fight and bicker over petty things and to have a bunch of men tell them that they are worth having. Even Emily, who always stands up for independence, won't join a sisterhood and support the women around her. It's just Callie, beautify sunshiney Callie, with a face like a plate of eggs and a smile of bacon, who wants everyone to join the sister hood. She mustn't watch reality shows, because they think the only interesting characters to watch are shrieking harpies and watching them will turn her into one of them, blotting out her brightness like a toxic fog.

Ovadia and her co-counsel Anand Ahuja are helping Lindsay Lohan sue E*Trade for $100 million over an ad that they say pokes fun at the starlet's struggles with substance abuse. Both lawyers have posted tons of Facebook photos showing off their clients—Ovadia has represented Michael Lohan and two of John Gosselin's ex-girlfriends—and various politicians they've somehow managed to sidle up to at events. We selected the best of the bunch.

Feldman said that he wants people to stop assuming that Haim died of an overdose until the toxicology report comes back, but he did say that Haim was seeing a treatment specialist (for addiction?) who was "new in the mix" and had put Haim on a new line of medication that may not have "corresponded properly" with the other medications Haim had been taking. Feldman also said that he appreciates that other celebrities are speaking out about their sadness over Haim's death, but is angry that those same people weren't there for Haim—who was "broke and destitute" and didn't even have a car—in his life.


Feldman went on to express his anger at how "society as a whole"—and specifically tabloid culture—laughs at child stars and "kicks [them] when they're down."


When talking about the projects that Haim was working on at the time of his death, Feldman mentioned that one of them was License to Fly (a sequel to License to Drive), which Haim was supposed to write and Feldman was supposed to produce. There were also plans to turn the License series into a trilogy and follow it up with License to Dive. Thankfully, Larry ended the interview by asking Feldman what the fuck was up with his hair.

The NYT reports that parents in the global epicenter of parenting excellence (Park Slope) are now all about "baby carriers" rather than strollers, because that's what babies allegedly want, allegedly? "All the dads are wearing it," reports one lady, emasculatingly. Yea, baby carriers, pretty cool and all, hmm, oh yea, only other thing is to just remember that they will SMOTHER YOUR LITTLE BABY TO DEATH and all. Unless you go for this one, which probably has...other effects.
[Pic: Flickr]

City Island is a lively, ultimately sweet family comedy starring Andy Garcia, Julianna Margulies, and Emily Mortimer. It won the audience award at the Tribeca Film Festival last year and will open to broader distribution on March 19.

In one of the film's subplots, the protagonist's smart-ass teenage son (Ezra Miller) realizes that he has a fetish for feeding large women, which he satisfies first by signing up for a kitchen-focused webcam site run by his neighbor Denise (played by Reynolds) and then eventually by pursuing his crush on a classmate (played by Glendon-Ross). In a film about keeping secrets from your family, the cheerful character of Denise is the only one who is comfortable in her own skin. Reynolds says director-writer Raymond de Felitta told her, "Out of everyone in this film, she's the only one that's honest."

The movie is a comedy and affectionate towards its characters, but I cringed a little listening to that theater full of industry insiders and Manhattanites laugh uproariously in the scenes with Reynolds and Glendon-Ross. Was I being oversensitive? I caught up with them at the afterparty to get their takes on the experience.

Glendon-Ross, who is only 18, said she identified strongly with her character. "My whole life, I have been going on these diets to get me to where all of my friends were. But it never really worked."

She found the film to be a transformative experience. "Being in this film has been great because it's really helping me to become more self-confident with my body type," she said. "It's really changed my vision of what people like and what the true body image should be. Not just a size zero, but being true to yourself and just being self-confident. And that's really what it's all about, not what size dress or shirt you wear, but who you are."

Like Glendon-Ross, the 31-year-old Reynolds is a theater regular who made her film debut with City Island. "By no means did I ever think I would be playing a part where I had my own fetish website," she said. "However, it was such a fun role because it was not like me at all, and as an actor I got to branch out. On the very first day, we shot the Web site scene, and I was in a red negligee. And I don't ever go sleeveless. And I just felt, well, this is definitely what this lady would do, and I am this lady for now."

How did she feel about the comedic element of her scenes? "It's not that they're laughing at Denise or they're laughing at me," she said. "They're laughing at the situation. It didn't offend me at all because again, I'm not like her, so to find that in a movie it's like, wow, that's really different."

She said that while it isn't always easy to be a larger-sized actress, particularly in Manhattan, she has a strong sense of self, in part from having grown up in a tight-knit family. "When you have a sense of who you are and everybody relates to your personality and not your size, I think that that's what's important. Initially people are taken aback when they look at me. And I feel like in a way that's a blessing because I've seen the world in a really different way than most people have seen it. I've had a lot of experiences that probably most people have not had because of my size. And it's made me who I am because I know what's real to me and I know who is real to me."

Below, the trailer for City Island.

• "The Kansas City Board of Education voted Wednesday night to close almost half of the city's public schools."
• The Texas School Board is "holding hearings on changes to its social studies curriculum that would portray conservatives in a more positive light, emphasize the role of Christianity in American history and include Republican political philosophies in textbooks."

In the War on Terror, Commander-in-Chief Graham is forcefully making the case for military tribunals for suspected terrorists in tense negotiations with the rump Democratic minority. Lame duck "President" Obama proposed a civilian trial for Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, and pledged to close the offshore Guantanamo Bay detention facility.

But Commander-in-Chief Graham, who commands one very powerful vote in the US Senate, will only allow the President to close Gitmo if KSM is tried before a military tribunal. Graham knows that a civilian trial means classified evidence will be accidentally released, even though military tribunals use almost the exact same regulations for handling classified material as civilian courts.

A defense attorney who's argued terrorism cases in civilian courts and military tribunals gives an example of how classified material is handled when America's kick-ass military is in charge of trying terrorists:

Dratel agreed, citing a case he argued at Guantanamo Bay in which a judge blurted out that something stated in court "probably" ought to have been classified."

Commander-in-chief Graham only has our safety in mind.

And on the domestic front, Commander-in-chief Graham seeks to finally make some gains in the tough immigration reform debate.

On Tuesday, Obama summoned a bipartisan group of Senators to the White House to revive discussions on climate change legislation. He is meeting today with Sens. Charles Schumer (D-N.Y.) and Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.) to discuss their efforts to advance immigration reform legislation, and throughout this week, administration officials have been working with House Democrats to make sure they are comfortable with emerging trade policies.

But when it comes to immigration reform, Commander-in-chief Graham is demanding Democrats hurry up and move on the issue that bitterly divided a Republican White House and congress a couple years ago.

Is there any issue Graham isn't weighing in on? No, of course not! He is even applying his legendary political acumen to the 2010 midterm elections! Graham may be a Republican, but he is a fair and honest man who was elected by all the American people to serve all the American people. That is why he is offering his totally straightforward and selfless advice to the Democratic party: if they want to succeed at the polls this November, they need to calm down and stop trying to "fight" for "things they believe in."

While dumb junior legislators and dumb Harry Reid may be tempted to finally get aggressive in combating Republican obstructionism, so that they can actually finally pass some fucking bills, Graham knows that cautious inaction is the wisest policy.

Republicans argued that while the demand for a more aggressive approach is understandable, it is ultimately unwise.

Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.) noted that while the 2006 and 2008 elections turned in large part on Democrats' successful exploitation of anti-Bush and anti-Iraq War sentiments, the political dynamics have changed. And as a result, a partisan, hard-charging approach like the one lawmakers used in those years to get elected will backfire.

"A lot of these guys came in campaigning against Iraq, campaigning against Bush," Graham said. He added that an overreliance on those tactics results in "you becoming tone deaf. So I think anybody who thinks the Democrats will do better by fighting harder and being harder-headed probably needs their hearing checked."

America is blessed to have such a benevolent leader in Washington.

Well, he told some concerned fellow from Minneapolis who wrote in to the New York Times, curious about the opposite of nymphomania. Dr. Drew informed him of the term 'sexual anorexia' and filled him in on the deets:

Many times patients with sexual addictions and compulsions will have a "bipolar," so to speak, swing to their sexual desire, in which they may move between periods of intense sexual activity followed by periods of sexual anorexia.

Addiction is one thing, but compulsion? Don't we all, in some way, have sexual compulsions? So this is about us!

Basically it's what happens when you go from college to, well, not being in college. Or when you turn thirty or something. Basically if you're not having sex, and frankly aren't really even trying to anymore, you probably have a mental disorder. That's all. It's not that you're convinced no one will ever be sexually attracted to you because you are so hideous and awful and you are wasting your salad days drunkenly watching reruns of Law & Order: SVU (the sexy one!) instead of going out and meeting people and maybe you should just bite the bullet and sign up for Match.com and be done with it because you're twenty-seven in May and, oh God, how did it get to this point?

Um. Sorry. But yeah, it's not you, it's your mental disease. Don't worry. Dr. Drew told us so. Don't worry. Don't worry.

1. "At one of the Oscar after-parties, one of the nominees/winners was talking to an industry exec about a home renovation project. He casually mentioned that he was having a floor to ceiling pole installed in their bedroom. The exec asked if his wife had ever taken pole-dancing lessons. Oscar Guy laughed and remarked that his wife was far too conservative to even think of doing such a thing. The pole was being installed for women who are hired to entertain the couple in their bedroom… and then stay to engage in additional exercise with the couple. Sounds like the wife isn't so conservative after all." [Blind Gossip]

2. "This B- list movie and television actress with much higher name recognition recently walked away from a very high profile project which she had been scheduled to do for ages. Why? Well, she grew tired of being the sexual plaything of the movie couple in charge of the project. The relationship lasted for several years and through several of our actresses' boyfriends. At least one of her boyfriends knew about it and watched once." [CDaN]

3. "This celeb is really only famous for being famous. Sure, she's done things in the industry but we really only know her now for taking her pictures and for scandals. The rumor on the street is that she's found a favorite up-and-comer to hang out with. The problem with the new friend is that he is underage, although no stranger to trouble. The celeb is not a very good influence and has got the kid back into drugs, wild partying and running with a dangerous crowd. The friendship was originally cooked up to boost the fame for both involved and now has developed into a destructive cycle for each. You would know both of the names involved here. Not Kim Kardashian." [BuzzFoto]

4. "Which champion climber—social and otherwise—is moving on after her latest husband suffered financial setbacks with the help of her conspicuous consumption? Their friends are sticking with him." [P6]