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By J.D. Oxblood

Success! We totally hit it! Over 2500 people hit the blog in one day last week, all because I decided to talk trash about somebody famous. When my editor said, “We got linked by Gawker,” I put my hand to my mouth like a Japanese schoolgirl. “Is that, like, the internet’s way of getting fined by the FCC?” I thought, finally, I’m busted. It was almost a relief. But it turns out, unbeknownst to me, that Gawker is some, like, really famous website? Where, like, EVERYone who’s ANYone goes to get their dirt on the celebs? And, like, you SO totally have to check it out, like, every day? And there was little ol’ JD getting linked by the big boys, and all the ga-ga girls and pretty boys hyper-linked over to cultural capitol where JD told them to… get a life. Ah, the circle of cynicism is complete.

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This now infamous video is proof that the surveillance state cuts both ways. (Thanks to Shawn for pointing it out.)

My sympathies are obviously with the bikers. For that matter, I never liked cops much. Their job is to go out cruising for trouble. Bad news in my opinion. The only people who should be cops should be the ones who pass a rigorous exam on ethics. But then there wouldn’t be many cops. Or politicians probably.

Bikes need to displace cars in the modern city — absolutely. They need to be sacred cows, so long as they don’t make a habit of running over pedestrians, who are by far the most sacred form of life on and in the street. And cops who make asses of themselves and abuse their power on video should be canned — immediately, no questions asked.

Date #1:

Find yourself in a densely crowded downstairs Latino dance club, trying to find a drunken female friend and her roommate, with whom you were wildly (and unwisely) making out mere moments before. Get a call from a female friend who works in a bar. Miss the call. Get a text from her saying, “Come to the bar. X is single and ready to mingle.” Go outside, find the drunk girls, get them in a cab and wash your hands of it. Retrieve message from the bartender: “Come to the bar now! X just broke up with her boyfriend and is asking about you!”

Grab a cab to the bar even though it’s less than a 10 minute walk. Arrive and kiss your friend and thank her for the tip. Sidle up next to the newly-single, smoking hot, 20 year-old vixen.

(Editor: Be forewarned, the following is a graphic and explicit depiction of sexual acts of dubious legality.)

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The penis graffito is probably the oldest symbol in the world.

BTW, This is a close runner up: ({}).

There are many, many examples of the penis graffito, but for the sake of space (and sanity) we’ll just look at two from the Clinton-Washington G train stop. Both of them seek to impose sexual power on the person in the poster, and the only difference between the two — and it’s a slight one at that — is the gender object of the power.

Poor Moonshadow! He looks happy, but size of that member cannot be very satisfying.

Is it pornography? If it is, what can a concerned citizen do about it? Public decency is absolutely necessary — no one would argue it is OK for men to walk the streets wagging their membri viri at passersby. But how can you stop someone from stamping a symbol of male power on a poster in the subway? You could have the cops check everyone’s bag for Sharpies. Giuliani introduced paint-proof trains to get rid of unsightly graffiti. One rider took the matter into her own hands and attacked the vandals on their own turf: