On the last item on this page: The reason no one watched The Next Joe Millionaire was that the first one was so obviously fixed. Believe it or not, people actually care about that kind of thing.

The reason no one watched Skin isn't as clear to me. How do you go wrong with a show about the one industry that, should I mention its name, will get me even more unwanted visitors than does the fact that you can get here by searching for the poem read aloud by Julia Stiles in 10 Things I Hate About You?

I'm not sure I understand why you're not supposed to be critical of a working draft just because it's a working draft. When are you supposed to react -- after they're final?

I'll say this. I've read the proposed standards. I would hope anybody who's got kids or plans to have them soon will read them, too. There's something about the idea that you have to know the relationship between supply and demand and markets and prices in order to get out of the fourth grade that doesn't seem entirely plausible to me, but . . . whatever.

Some people just don't know how to take a shout-out. That's an honor, Tom.

My favorite part of this story is this part: "Rimer said it's the first time in his 33 years working for the police department that someone dressed as a clown has robbed a bank." How did that come up? What was the question? "So, chief, does this kind of thing happen a lot?"

I don't much like the lottery, but I love this story.

Anything that moves the world closer to the possibility of a constitutional right to work in your pajamas
sounds good to me. Yay, working in your pajamas!

Huh. A little heavy on the Page Six, but who can resist this, yet another story of irrelevant female celebrities making out?

Oh, Christie Brinkley. No one likes you, especially now.

Okay, on one hand, the Employees Gone Wild are right. On the other hand, when you go to work for the guy who does Girls Gone Wild, for God's sake, you can't expect that you're going to be dealing with a paragon of integrity. It seems to me that if you want to have a good boss, find one who does something with his life except show pictures of drunk girls' boobs for a living. (Okay, I'm going to get a lot of very unfortunate Google hits for this entry, so if you got here looking for that phrase, go read some damn feminist theory, why don't you?)

You probably already know this, but Dahlia Lithwick is a ridiculously good read, and you should read everything she writes about law. If I weren't myself, I would want to be Dahlia Lithwick. In fact, if you've ever wished you could hire Dahlia Lithwick for something and she hasn't been interested, I'm available.

I do understand that Grady Little screwed up. I also understand that he screwed up in an important game. Would I throw him over for that mistake alone, as it appeared they did? I think not. I suppose, though, that the possibility of an irrational firing is part of what you accept when you become a coach in professional sports.

If there's anything on earth I care about less than a feud between Shaq and Kobe, I can't imagine what it might be. I wouldn't want coworkers of mine criticizing me in the newspaper, so I don't understand why they can't just keep this crap to themselves. All it does is make everyone look like a spoiled brat.