Go to commercial! If you’re looking for live television at its finest, there’s
nothing that can beat “continuing coverage” of some major news story. A shuttle disaster, a police
chase, a terrorist attack—or more often than not—some natural catastrophe. Local
stations, it seems, are aching for an excuse to go live—it’s their time to shine.
Take, for instance, January 23, 2005, when the biggest blizzard of the
season socked the New York area. Everyone was warned about it well in advance, but still all the local
networks went to commercial-free continuing coverage just to make sure we were all kept up to the
In one of the more misguided judgment calls, Fox 5 sent that lovable (and
drunken, we presume) battle-axe Penny Crone to a diner in Jersey for a live feed. Her task was to interview
sanitation workers who’d been out driving the snowplows—some just coming off shifts that
had lasted as long as 23 hours.
All the empty tables were clearly visible, and everyone in the diner
at 10 that morning was obviously drunk, but this didn’t deter Penny, who approached the first man
she saw and asked: “What’s it like driving a plow in conditions like this?”
“Well,” he replied, “once the hallucinations kick in, it’s really not
so bad.” We doubt that’s the first man she’s heard that particular line from.
Realizing she was in trouble if she stayed with him, she quickly moved
to the other side of the diner and stuck her mike in the face of another plow driver (one who seemed
a little more sedate).
“While you’re all in here,” she asked him, “who’s out there plowing the
“Mexicans,” he announced, matter of factly.
Best Invocation of Biblical Wrath in aN Editorial
THE DAILY NEWS SAYS
There was plenty to mock back when the Daily News was running 300-word editorials
under the declarative banner “The Daily News says…” Still, they deserve animal sacrifices
in their honor for their response to child-killer Joel Steinberg’s release from prison. Rising
from newsroom boilerplate to seething injunctions of Old Testament justice in the space of a paragraph
might not be worth recognition if the author hadn’t been possessed by whatever spirit of righteousness
inspired him to deliver these lines:
“Stare at him.
“Wherever he goes, stare at him.
“Up the street, down the subway, into the corner deli—stare at
him. Unflinchingly and unrelentingly and unforgivingly, stare at him. Let him feel every New York
eye burning straight through his rotten soul.”
It is all the more powerful and poetic for the biblical terseness and
poetic line breaks, where another breath of retribution is drawn before the command to stare at
him is repeated. And in case you thought that the News was encouraging physical smiting
or law breaking, it goes on:
“So stare at him.
“Do not touch him. Do not do him harm. Do not spit on him. Do not curse him
aloud. Say nothing. Just stare.
“Just stand back, give him room, and stare at Joel Steinberg, every hour
of every day.
“Let him never forget how much he is despised, forever.”
Editorials often make use of moral language and coax us with genteel
admonitions towards righting injustices, but they never expect that you’ll interrupt your coffee
break to do something about Darfur. When was the last time a tabloid demanded that you join an army
of righteous spiritual vigilantes in stalking the hideous soul of a fiendish villain?
Best Corrupt Agency
Calling Dr. Moe! Calling Dr. Curly! When it comes to hilariously blatant
corruption, who can even dream of topping the MTA? The NYPD may come close in terms of creative statistics,
but as far as shenanigans affecting daily life, the MTA remains on top.
It’s been hard to keep track over the past few years of what they’re claiming
from one week to the next—they’re billions in debt, they need to lay off hundreds of workers,
they need to raise fares—but oh! They’re going to start computerizing their trains and cutting
deals with local developers and—whoops! Turns out they just found a spare $800 million under
a bathmat in the employee’s lounge!
But no, it doesn’t mean they’ll be keeping any jobs or rolling back those
fare hikes, because they need that money to build a shed. And what second set of books are you referring
to? There was never any second set of books! And we need a couple billion more for security improvements,
even though we’re gonna lay off 1,000 conductors, and, you know, we really should get down to work
on that Second Avenue line one of these days and…
Well, you see what we mean. Our hats are off to them, actually. We realize
that keeping the city’s trains and buses running is an impossibly complex task, but Jesus Christ.
Any agency that can operate this way for so long, and only have people complain about it but do nothing
else, deserves a little respect.
Best marginal magazine
The L has a crazily complete listing of events, often with intricate data
included. In another town the uneven writing would give it a cozily provincial feel, but this is
New York. Take the regular section in which cab drivers are asked topical questions that make the
leap from cabbie cultures to high culture. “Where I hailed from: Midtown East. Where he hailed from:
Bangladesh” begins one such quiz.
“Tips for Tips” asks a panel of bartenders themed questions, another
good idea. Sometimes the fast-talking charisma of these service workers/idols can’t be properly
unleashed, due to the plodding nature of the query (i.e., “What are your vacation plans?”), but
more often they get to have at it. Excellent bar reading.
Best New Blog to Feed Our Real Estate Whore
There are countless reasons to hate Mr. Brownstoner. Chiefly, his Clinton
Hill brownstone, which serves as the impetus for his eponymous blog. Yet we can’t begrudge him too
long; his web site is a refreshing breath of homespun air in the slimy world of real estate blather.
While similarly minded Web sites like Curbed (2004’s Best Blog to Feed
Our Real-Estate Whore) attack the housing market with a cynical wink-wink, Gawker-style nudge,
Brownstoner purveys a plain-talkin’, no-nonsense approach. It kind of feels like a bearded, know-it-all
dad discussing his favorite subject. Namely, brownstone Brooklyn.
While posts on open houses and ephemera are appealing (who knew the house
at 233 Duffield Street may have played a role in the Underground Railroad!), we are hooked on the
proverbial pipe-watching as the Brownstoner’s renovations unfurl. New molding! Recycled claw-foot
bathtubs! Doorframes! We visit the site every morning, breath bated, eager to see how the wood stain
turned out. It’s a fine example of living vicariously through others. We dream of undertaking our
own rafters-to-floorboard build-out. Except, of course, we can’t afford a million-dollar home,
and we’re as handy with a hammer as a paralyzed Eskimo. Whatever that means.
Best Comeuppance, Media Division
6 St. Mark’s Place (betw. 2nd Ave and 3rd Ave)
They snarl at you, snort when questioned. Doesn’t matter what the question.
Self-righteous little pricks with coiffed bed-head. Then came the June 8 police raid on Mondo Kim’s.
Ah, sweet schadenfreude. Allegedly, it was about illegal mix CDs. But while the fuzz was in the store,
they decided to check out computers and employees. Not sure if there will be late fees for those employees.
Finally, aloof and detached employees got a humility smackdown, and us peons in search of a certain
rare, mid-century Italian lounge CD are vindicated.
Best dumb-ass job posting
Chuck Eddy’s request for a Voice music blogger
Chuck Eddy, music editor at the Village Voice, has never been known
as a bright man, or as one with many skills. In fact, it’s likely the twerp was once voted most likely
to be a bus driver, if only he could reach the gas pedal. Whether editing the Village Voice’s
monkeys-flinging-poo music section is a step up from that career choice is debatable, but it’s
a good fit for Eddy at least, who recently proved that there actually some things he can fuck up more
than music criticism.
Based on his recent plea for a music blogger, it’s fairly clear that he’s
not exactly good at what the bean counters, who are probably about to sell his paper to New Times,
call “human resources.”
Eddy writes: “Villagevoice.com is looking for a someone to write a daily
music blog and weekly feature. Though temporary—three or four weeks—the position
may lead to a regular column.”
Yeah, admitting up front that there’s a decent chance that all candidates
may be promptly shit-canned is a good way to find the most qualified, motivated individuals.
Eddy then goes on to reveal that he doesn’t know shit about the Internet
“If you’re interested, please send links to your current blog and a few
of your published clips, features in particular. Also please include any traffic statistics that
Hmm, so the Voice is looking to boost traffic for its Web site.
Fine. So why not just use Google’s Pagerank to see who’s linking to what and determine which popular
blog most resembles the Voice music section’s preferred language of Sanskrit. And shouldn’t
this garbage be online managing editor Nick Catucci’s job anyway?
Our guess is that Eddy’s using this missive as a way to meet 19-year-old
girls. Sad thing is, there are easier ways to do that on the Internet, but Eddy probably has no idea.
Best Overreaction to a Bad Pope Joke
Drudge & Co. vs. New York Press
Everybody just relax. You know Matt Drudge has a hydra-headed bug up his ass
about something when he gives it more play than a new Hillary Clinton book deal. So it was last March
when this newspaper printed an unremarkable column by Matt Taibbi listing the “Funniest 52 Things
About the Upcoming Death of the Pope.” For three full days—that’s three entire news cycles
while the country is at war—The Drudge Report devoted a sizable chunk of real estate to posting
the cover of the offending issue of New York Press.
If a giant killer asteroid were heading straight for planet Earth, Drudge
might give it two days of play before dropping it to make way for a John Edwards bestiality rumor.
Nothing gets three whole days of prime play from Drudge. But this stupid little New York Press story did. The only possible explanation is that Drudge was determined to make trouble for your
humble narrator, whom he turned on violently after former Press columnist Michelangelo
Signorile started outing his closet-case friends.
If Drudge was trying to put some explosives under the brewing shitstorm,
it worked. Below the cover image soon appeared a link entitled “SchumerClintonBloomberg Outrage.”
This in turn led to a story by Daily News flyweight gossip hack Lloyd Grove—a 2004
Press “Most Loathsome”—who was so offended by the article that he took it upon himself
to get quotes from the office of every local pol in his rolodex. The boilerplate “outrage” Grove
collected for his column space turned out to be funnier than any Pope joke we could ever run:
Senator Schumer (“The most disgusting thing I’ve seen in 30 years of
public life”); Senator Clinton (“outrageously offensive”); Mayor Bloomberg (“par for the course
for this publication”); Rep. Anthony Weiner (“I hope New Yorkers exercise their right to take as
many of these rags as they can and put them in the trash.”); Bronx borough chief Freddy Ferrer (“juvenile
and not funny”); Anti-Defamation League honcho Abe Foxman (“Crosses the line… ugly”);
and Polish-American Congress official Frank Milewski (“A most extreme example of hate speech”).
Nice try Lloyd, but you forgot Russell Simmons.
Best Painfully Awkward Collision of Two Worlds
Kofi Annan meets Marty Markowitz (and challenges The Donald)
Brooklyn’s blue helmet. The look captured on the Secretary-General’s face
that early summer morning expressed a well-blended mix of polite toleration, gentle amusement
and barely concealed get-me-the-fuck-out-of-here. The photo, which Marty Markowitz no doubt
has framed and placed prominently on his office wall, shows the Brooklyn borough president handing
Kofi Annan a model of the Brooklyn Bridge. The scene concluded a meeting in which Markowitz made
the pitch for Brooklyn’s temporary hosting of the U.N. while the organization’s Turtle Bay headquarters
undergoes a long-overdue makeover.
The image is priceless. On one side, the highly enriched embodiment
of globe-trotting diplomacy; on the other, a man who’s perfect day involves leading a screaming
caravan of SUV’s to a photo-op at a hot-dog eating contest. And yes, that really was Marty Markowitz
telling the secretary-general to “Keep on keepin’ on.”
The worlds of New York City and its international space station collided
yet again in July, when Donald Trump told a Senate subcommittee that the U.N.’s renovation plans
were overpriced, and claimed that he could do the job for a third the cost. This led Annan to snap back
that Trump should bid on the project if he thought he could do it cheaper. With city-state funding
and federal loans in limbo, it just might happen. Since the U.N. isn’t technically on U.S. soil,
maybe Trump could build a giant casino as part of the renovations, with all proceeds going to UNICEF.
Best Unintentional Self-Contradiction
Bloomberg on Willets Point
The proof is in the Point. You have to hand it to the mayor and his economic development
czar Danny Doctoroff. They have nuts the size of official NFL footballs. Month after month, they
stood before podiums and microphones repeating the mantra that handing over the Hudson Railyards
to Woody Johnson for dimes on the dollar was the best way to develop the area. Never mind that the entire
economics profession is united in a rare show of consensus on the issue, with study after study showing
that professional sports franchises impede local economic development more than they spur it.
Never mind that a mixed-use development plan would create a textured, breathing community with
small businesses open year-round, as opposed to a gigantic stadium empty but on game and concert
days. In statement after statement, Mike and Danny stood there and scolded us like little children
for not believing that ten football games, a one-off Olympics and the occasional ZZ Top concert
were better for generating economic activity than a thriving new neighborhood full of residents,
shops and service providers.
When Shelly Silver finally banged a wooden stake through the heart of
the Jets deal, Mike and Danny turned sad-eyed to Queens as a last hope for what was their then-sputtering
Olympic dream. Specifically, the mayor touted Willets Point as a possible home for a future Olympic
village, anchored by a new Shea Stadium. Like the old Hudson Railyards, there wasn’t much in the
It was a sane idea, actually, one the mayor should have had before he wasted
everyone’s time, money and energy on the West Side Stadium battle. What Bloomberg never seemed
to realize was that the reason Willets Point was such a perfect location, and so ripe for development,
contradicted his earlier case for the West Side. If, as he claimed, sports stadiums were growth
machines, why was the area around Shea still a barren wasteland of tire and junk shops? Could it be
that he and Doctoroff were wrong and that all those economic development studies were right?
In a word, yes.
Best Place for George Pataki in 2008
Running The EPA
Georgy the Green Giant. Conservatives may hate the gangly gov for the state’s
high tax rates; liberals for his support of the death penalty and the war in Iraq. But New Yorkers
across the spectrum should put down their bows and arrows long enough to admire the governor’s accomplished
record on stewarding the state’s natural environment.
Pataki’s accomplishments range from finally establishing a 153-mile
“No Discharge Zone” in the Hudson River—and forming a task force to monitor the EPA’s removal
of PCBs from that troubled body of water—to organizing Northeast states into a bloc with
a voluntary carbon emissions cap. He has proven himself the true heir to Teddy Roosevelt, another
New York Republican who mixed hawkish views on foreign policy with an honest and sometimes brave
commitment to the environment. (Pataki was one of the few high-profile Republicans to slam the
Bush administration’s loosening of regulations on mercury emissions and other pollutants.)
Regardless of who wins the presidency in 2008—and we doubt it
will be him—we think Pataki would be an inspired choice to head the Environmental Protection
Agency. Pataki’s moderate credentials and low-key expertise on green issues would make him the
perfect messenger to take the lessons and accomplishments of New York under his watch—and
there are many—to the national stage.
Best Use ofÊFilm ReviewÊColumn as Thin Cover for Untamed Sex Fetishes
V.A. Musetto, “Cine File”, New York Post
Nothing could be more transparent than the New York Post’s Vince
Musetto’s “Cine File” column—more aptly called “Pedophile” or “Lezzie File.” The creepy
movie writer’s blatant pederasty and sapphic obsession is only outdone by his disturbinglyÊuntreatedÊcase
ofÊyellow fever. No oneÊruns off to more obscure Asian film fests with more giddy excitement, nor
does anyone expend more energy leaving fewer stones unturnedÊto secureÊface-to-face Q&A’s
withÊirrelevantÊAsian actresses.ÊResearch his columnÊarchives and you’ll find thatÊnearÊeighty
percent of his film reviews center on teen-sex, woman-on-woman sex or Asian sex.Ê It’s cool Vince,
we’ve all got our peccadilloes. We just pity the News Corporation cleaning service employee who’s
got to wipe the excitement off your honey-glazed keyboard. Not since Mary Kay Letorneau let Vili
Fualaau pet the teacher has there been such an obvious, egregious, inappropriateÊand unapologetic
mixing of profession and sexual fetishism.
Best Reason to be Terrified of Bloomberg II
Supreme court ruling on Eminent domain
So the liberal justices finally won a big vote. Hurray. Victory for the little
guy! Wait a second… what kind of bullshit is this?
According to a recent Supreme Court ruling, the government can now condemn
your property and give it to just about anyone, just about any time they feel like it. Eminent domain
is nothing new, only it used to be used exclusively for clearing the way for public projects: highways,
housing projects, dams, parks, etc, and it was controversial enough then. Now with a little compensation,
cities can give your property to a private developer, provided he will use it in a way “beneficial”
to the local economy, i.e. luxury apartment buildings, shopping malls, etc. all make the cut.
The only remedy for this 1984-type shit is for cities themselves
to make laws limiting the extent of eminent domain. Not very likely under Bloomberg, whose corporate-style
logic and Manhattan-centricity make him exactly the type most likely to use these new powers for
evil: see the whole Ratner mess for a sneak preview of the widespread luxury-city epidemic plaguing
our possible future.
Best Political Blog
Outing the exact location of the mayor’s weekend getaway (Tucker’s Point
Golf Course in Bermuda), hacking into the website for his daughter’s wedding (EmmaandChris.com)
and getting a City Council staffer fired for soliciting volunteers to work a mayoral campaignÊis
all in a day’s work for The Politicker. The crackpot team of bloggers there, New York Observer City Hall reporters Ben Smith, Jessica Bruder and Jason Horowitz (and our Azi Paybarah used to intern
there, we might add) publicize insightful, embarrassing and always humorous anecdotes about
the folks running Gotham. Their most lasting legacy might be forcing the old pencil pushers like
us, Newsday, the Village Voice, the New York Sun and countless others to
get funny, and bravely begin blogging. Needless to say, those of us doing so are really thankful
for all the additional work, which of course, comes with no extra pay. Thanks Ben!
Best Arnold Schwarzenegger Impression
The bald-headed leader of the Independence Party, Lenora Fulani, is looking
more and more like the Governator. Her physical similarities to the Arnold are obvious: They’ve
both got pythons for arms and love going around in sleeveless shirts. Professionally, the Austrian-born
body-builder uttered the phrase “I’ll be back” in some movie and then was elected governor of California
when his predecessor was recalled. The reputed anti-Semite was recalled as an executive member
of the Independence Party, after which she vowed that she’d be back too. And you thought Danny Devito
was gonna be in Twins II with Arnold.
Best Pre-Emptive Strike
The Bronx beep didn’t waste any time announcing the obvious. He did, though,
choose a weird fucking place to do it.
In April, Carrion told an Israeli newspaper he plans to run for mayor
in 2009. Like talking to the Riverdale Review would have been so hard. But the “no-duh!” announcement
was a big embarrassment to the man Carrion endorsed for mayor, Fernando Ferrer, since 2009 is when
Freddy would be running for re-election. Now, he’s gonna have to eat his words to keep his job.
Adolfo is up for re-election this year to his current job against challenger
Kevin Brawley, who’s planning an onslaught of advertising to remind voters of Carrion’s announcement.
Fortunately for Adolfo, Brawley has exactly $0 in his war chest.
Best Recycled Slogan
Saying your opponent sucks and doesn’t deserve to eat the shit you just flushed
down the toilet ain’t new. What’s should be new is the phrase used to get this point across. Then again,
why mess with a proven winner? That’s Public Advocate Betsy Gotbaum’s approach to sloganeering:
the fine art of running a campaign of sound bites. In a televised debate, she said her main rival,
Norman Siegel, was running a campaign better suited for the office of public adversary. Pa-zow!
But Normie pointed out that the charge is not new. She used it in the 2001
race when the two faced off. To that, the horn-rimmed Diva of Public Advocacy smirked and replied,
“Yeah, and I won.”
Best Political Camouflage
Every time we see Helen Sears wearing one of her trademark shawls in her Jackson
Heights Council district, we hear Marissa Tomei’s sassy voice saying, “Yeah, you blend.” How else
to describe a 60-something-year-old Italian lady’s wardrobe choice in a neighborhood teeming
with sari shops?
Maybe we should just be happy she’s not representing SoHo, Washington
Heights or neighborhoods with folks more prone to showing flesh. As for the effectiveness of her
garb, well, she beat a guy who raised tons of money and had The New York Times endorsement.
Note: It was the Gray Lady’s editorial board that weighed in on the race, not their omniscient fashion
Former mayor Ed Koch endorsed so many Republicans in recent years that he
now seems to make news for endorsing members of his own party. While Bloomberg may be New York’s premier
RINO, Koch is his DINO counterpart, which perhaps explains the inter-species love affair the two
have been having.
By staying in the party and out of office, Koch is able to do what no Republican
can: fuck with the Democratic primaries. That’s what he did when Koch endorsed comptroller Bill
Thompson (Ed refers to him as Billy) for mayor in 2009. But Billy is sitting out this mayoral election
and backing Fernando Ferrer’s third bid for City Hall. If Freddy wins, he’ll be running for re-election
just as Billy will be term limited from his job. And the grandpa puppeteer of politics can sit back
and enjoy the infighting he egged on oh so long ago. Taking notes Karl?
Best Local Weatherman
Sam Champion, WABC-7
The Weather Underground. Let’s face it, local weathermen come and go, and
most people barely notice. They could put a diseased monkey up in front of that map and it wouldn’t
Normally in a category like this, we’d go with an underdog (like that
dork on Channel 2) instead of a flashy popular favorite. But every once in a rare while, the masses
are right. People get a little obsessive about Sam Champion. They tell stories about him. They spread
rumors about him (heard the one about him and Mike Piazza?) They insist that he’s nothing but a computer-generated
image. They study the architecture of his hair and analyze his tan. They’re suspicious of his name
and his boundless enthusiasm. Gilbert Gottfried made fun of him to his face (“I’m talking to a Ken
Doll!”). A local band named themselves after him.
And herein lies the rub: Sam Champion knows all this, and he’s smart enough
to play along. He knows he’s got a ridiculous name, he knows he’s too perfectly good-looking, and
he seems to know that people assume he’s gay. And he won’t deny any of it.
A year ago, he hosted a half-hour special about up and coming local comedians.
This baffled us at first. Why is the computer-generated weatherman talking to comedians? Only
later, after those “We Are the Champions” commercials started airing, did we understand.
After all, what other local weatherman could stare lovingly at the eye
of Hurricane Rita and muse, “Isn’t that beautiful?”
Best Bar For ugly reporters
Woody Allen once said that 99 percent of Jewish women are beautiful, and the
rest go to Brandeis. And presumably from there to the Times, which is, frankly, the ugliest newsroom
we’ve ever seen. (This is how Maureen Dowd, who makes Ann Coulter seem sexy, came to be the official
house babe. Or was that Pinch’s quota system again?)
Which is why the boys like to head down to Siberia, a two-floor hole in
the wall across the street from the backside of the Port Authority Bus Terminal, where they mingle
with men from the other dailies and—is it something in the drinks?—get laid (or at
least try) by hot young hippie chicks. Siberia is within walking distance of the cultured cubicles
of the Times, but it’s atmosphere is millions of miles away. “What happens in Siberia Stays
in Siberia” is the Times’ other motto. Topless, co-ed dancing happens upstairs, traditional
fertilization dances take place right near the make out couches downstairs.
J-school students and other wannabes often get thrown off course when
pursuing the legendary palace of reporter hedonism. Many get steered to a stale, dark, dry wooden
bar on the east side of Midtown pointlessly named The Press Box. What does any of this have to do with
the drinking traditions of Jimmy Breslin, Hunter S. Thompson, Pete Hamill and others? Nothing.
Best Looking whoever
Who’s New York’s most delicious politico? Let’s consider the suspects.
We’ll start with former spinster Alexa Hinton, who got the gang of 51 some favorable ink. Her weapon:
long blonde hair, blue eyes and the demeanor of a southern belle bemused by big bad Metropolis. It’s
too bad she left for a reporting gig down south.
Then there’s Kathryn Prael, aide to Congressman Anthony Weiner, who
shot up from last place to second in the Democratic Primary. Her statuesque frame, dirty blonde
hair and Hepburn eyes gave us an incentive to attend as many campaign events as possible.
We’re not exactly sure what the State Superintendent of Banks Diana
Taylor actually does at work. Mostly we know her as the taller, trophy girlfriend of Mayor Michael
R. Bloomberg. We recall one bizarre conversation in which we was introduced to the power couple
as a reporter “born in 1978″ and Taylor replied that she was in college that year.
Tracey Denton is our reason for covering Meetup.com’s meet-ups. The
short brunette with wiry lips that shape themselves into political jargon and manufactured laughs
is a fixture at the group’s events. So are hordes of reform-minded single men and women in flannel
shirts. Unfortunately, Denton seemed unaware of the online group’s reputation for launching
more than the Dean campaign. We’ll be happy to explain it some night.
Our vote, though, goes to the congresswoman who gets around (her district
is in Brooklyn, Queens and Manhattan), Nydia Velázquez. She’s young, sexy and rocks a red,
rebellious short do. And yes, she does look good angry. After we asked her why her office emailed
a press release about a political endorsement—a big no no—she refused to speak to
us. She hasn’t taken our calls or returned our messages. HOT!
Best Misuse of Sex Appeal in a Campaign
Like you need that much help spicing up the campaign trail when your competition
is C. Virginia Fields and Fernando Ferrer. (Against a guy named Weiner, yeah, it’s a little tough.)
But Giff’s misuse of sex appeal in his mayoral bid was just unforgivable. First, he failed to get
the buxom policy buff Lindsay Lohan to show up for a promised appearance at a Chelsea fundraiser
that included an open bar and the paparazzi. In her place, Giff fans got a glimpse of that
little blonde kid from “7th Heaven.” He doesn’t even have man tits! Then, the travesty that gay men
and desperate wives citywide simply couldn’t forgive. Using Alec Baldwin to do a voice-over for
a TV ad. Apparently there wasn’t time in a 30-second slot about reducing class for Baldwin’s ultimate
vote getter, his sweater chest. Needless to say, he came in dead last.
Used panty Ban
The City Council went for more than what is in your back pocket when they debated
whether or not to ban the sale of used underwear. Due to the sensitive nature of the bill, introduced
by Bayside’s Councilman Tony Avella, we’re not exactly sure who lobbied for the bill. What we do
know is that mom-and-pop panty pushers are gonna get squeezed out of the market by those unscrupulous
banana hammocks slingers and the thong tha thong thong thong kabal. But for bringing Victoria’s
Secret onto the political agenda, this is the best bill of the year. Pants down!
Best Baby Mama Drama
Herman Denny Farrell
Baby mama drama is not just the province for rappers and Maury Povich shows.
Lawmakers from every sex-starved corner of the state regularly meet in the tundra known as Albany.
With the budget routinely held up by partisanship, the rank and file members need to find a way to
stay warm. And the fresh supply of interns are always willing to learn from their more experienced
bosses. But just as “budget reforms” forced legislators into their seats and out of their interns’
pants, the State Democratic Chair was outed for fathering an out of wedlock baby. The 72-year-old
Herman Denny Farrell fathered the lovechild with a woman 30 years his junior.
The reporter who broke the story, Fred Dicker, was threatened on his
own radio show by Farrell, who burst in and said, “I’m so freakin’ mad. If this was a neighborhood,
you know how this could end.”
The compassionate side of the Bush administration’s conservatism was in
full view when they let into their daily briefs a news outlet whose neatly dressed reporter doubled
as a gay male escort. Unfortunately, footage from those briefings show that White House Press Secretary
Scott McClellan never took full advantage of Jeff Gannon’s versatile skills.
McClellan did call on the male escort during press conferences as a way
of switching topics from prickly questions asked by more uptight reporters more interested in
facts than felching. Don’t worry, Gannon’s body of work is catalogued on reputable sites like Working
Boys, the Stud Files X, and USMPCT (Personal Trainer, Body Guard, Escort).
Best Campaign Poster
Andrew “Zeus” Rasiej
I will crush you. Failed and already-forgotten Public Advocate candidate
Andrew Rasiej’s only campaign goal seemed to be making the entire city safe for wireless Internet
access. That immediately made him a Big Asshole in our book, but that’s not our immediate concern.
Our question for Mr. Rasiej, then as now, is this:
What were you thinking with those posters? What exactly was
he trying to say with a black fist clutching a red lightning bolt? It looked like some sort of Stalin-meets-Black
Power design, or perhaps a recruiting poster for the SS. Or an ad for an upcoming hip-hop album put
out by some “Rasie-J”.
More than anything else, the posters gave the impression that he and
his followers intended to destroy all who stood in their way, burning the fields barren as they marched
in lockstep toward Valhalla, their boots and swords thick with the steaming blood of their enemies.
Dude, look, you were just running for Public Advocate. Next time you’re
looking for an eye-catching symbol to let the voters know who you are, maybe try a smiley face or something.