Kristen Stewart seems like she's having a pleasant time hanging out with her perhaps more-than-friend Alicia Cargile, which is nice for her.

For weeks, blogs have been passing around sexy rumors about Stewart's relationship with her live-in buddy Alicia. They went to Hawaii together, for instance, and what does that mean? Kristen had her arm on Alicia at one point, etc., etc. Now a source tells Radar that the pair got matching arrow tattoos! They sound fun. From Radar:

"They are inseparable and mimic each other's everything," a friend of the Twilight actress tells RadarOnline.com exclusively regarding their matching right-arm tattoos of arrows pointing in the same direction.

"Helloo...my naaame...is...Kristen...Stewart!" —Kristen Stewart and Alicia Cargile simultaneously, one can bet. The source went on to Radar about the girls' trip to Hawaii:

"When Kristen and Alicia were in Hawaii for New Years, I am sure that they thought no one was going to see them," the insider says. "But they are not exactly nonchalant about their relationship anymore."

Of course, why be nonchalant (?) about something that seems so chill and fun? And finally, the source spoke about Kristen Stewart's self-assuredness:

"Kristen is happy and she is just being herself. She doesn't need to worry about where her next role is going to come from nowadays because she has proven herself as an actress," the source adds.

That sounds nice. Kristen and Alicia seem like they have a nice thing going.

[image via INFPhoto.com, Splash]

On Monday evening at about 5:20 I was wearing a cream-colored sweater and nothing else, lying back on a medical table with my feet in stirrups, breathing like my 80-pound dog when she's having a stress dream. Between my legs was a young and pretty OB/GYN with a short blonde ponytail and an air of capable kindness. She called me "dear" repeatedly and explained every step of what she was doing—this is the speculum, this is the numbing agent, this is the antiseptic, now you're going to feel a device that straightens out your cervix, now I'm measuring your uterus.

Everything was as chill as could be, but the opposite. It is an unnatural state just to be Donald Ducking in a winter sweater, let alone doing it under fluorescent light while a nice woman aims a foot-long applicator straight at your cervix, a body part you'd previously thought of as a sort of Doomsday Gate, set to open only in states of emergency. What was happening was painful; I felt pushed out from the inside. "Now I'm putting the IUD in," she said, and I breathed, dog-like, with one hand over my eyes.

I heard the OB say "Hmm." Then, "Uh-oh." Her head popped up between my knees.

"The device jammed," she said. "It didn't work."

"What do you mean, it jammed," I said. I was embarrassed because I thought that my cervix had rejected the IUD like a bad magnet. I could tell I was about to cry.

Although my blind spot for inefficiency can border on insensible—I once sat through a four-hour Amtrak delay without noticing, and still use caps lock to type every capital letter—I still can't believe how long it took me to bite (metaphorically, and also with my cervix) the T-shaped bullet of the IUD.

The main thing keeping me away from uterine greatness was, like it always is, inertia. Having been on birth control pills since I was a teenager, I had already been consistently de-pregnantizing myself for years. But—"am I right, ladies," she whispered, gently falling off a cliff—the pill is a situation that best-case-scenario can be described as "okay." For most of college I was on the regular estrogen/progestin Empty Ute Special, with the usual side stuff: nausea, thick-headedness, emotions that seemed randomly generated. It Sucked, I Took It Anyway: A Universal Memoir of Female Young Adulthood. At some point I switched to the progestin-only version, which cleared my brain and my emotional weather, but it's a mini-pill and it needs to be taken pretty much exactly on the hour every day to be effective.

This is a simple task and also a bad one. Teaching, graduate school, work, a loud restaurant, a yoga class, a Peace Corps bus where a literal goat is sitting on your backpack, a Sunday when you're comatose till two in the afternoon—it's not always feasible to hear and react to a loud alarm, particularly when it's not for something awesome ("My daily free cheese sample!") but instead for something that will just get you back to your ordinary zero. The pill is a never-ending medicalization of being female. The pill sucks. Whatever. I took it anyway, and for a long time.

Then one day last summer, I was sitting across from my friend Rebecca at a sidewalk cafe. We had icy, salty margaritas, and we were smiling at each other through sunglasses and eating queso fundido in the thick afternoon light, and she pulled her sunglasses off and said—apropos of something I can't remember; maybe I had idly complained about the fact that I'd put 3500 hormone pills in my body before turning 26—"You should really, really think about getting an IUD." She told me about hers, sounding like she was recounting the gospel.

This was not the first time I'd heard a friend with an IUD blossom into evangelism as soon as the subject came up. I already knew that the over-99-percent-effective intra-uterine device—a little plastic T, either containing copper (Paragard, effective for 10 years) or progestin, only about 10 percent of which reaches the bloodstream (Mirena, effective for five years or Skyla, effective for three)—was a best practice. The lingering idea that they are dangerous, or produce infertility, is based on this long-defunct monster model, and today IUDs mean no effort, no human error. There's no standing sweaty in your winter coat in the pharmacy line at 7 p.m. on a Sunday, no getting the prescription transferred to the CVS near LAX when you're traveling, no condoms on the nightstand if you're a one-trick pony like me. No paranoia. No periods, often.

And, anecdotally—unlike with almost any other birth control option—most women with IUDs love their situation and report no problems after a few months of spotting and cramps. AND: 40 percent of gynecologists use them, as opposed to 8 percent of us regulars, which in itself, separate from any other information, is a good enough reason to say go.

Well. The closest thing I've ever felt to an epiphany is the realization that I wasn't living my best life. "Yeah," I said to Rebecca, lifting a chip to my mouth and watching the strings of queso catch the light. Everything was beautiful that day. "Maybe I should. I think I will."

I expect that, in the future, the greatest part about getting an IUD will be the part I was anticipating: the part where I no longer have to expend daily effort to prevent being fertilized against my will. But in the time leading up to the insertion, the IUD already seemed worth it for the response it elicited from my girlfriends.

Relatively few women actually have these little devices up their ("OUR," she said thoughtfully, placing a hand on yours across the counter of the feminist bookstore) uteruses—but almost everyone who's not actively trying to get pregnant would like the outcome of the IUD: to stay un-pregnant without doing any work. Thus, the idea—of not being pregnant and also not having to struggle for it, via condom pausing or pill brand changes or Plan B or regular uterine bloodletting or the hiccup of a too-fast pull-out or the continual expenditure of money or the screenshots of your period tracker app sent to two of your friends like "UHHHH DDD:"—sort of feels like magic. I just searched my inbox and found Gchats going back for years: IUD time maybe. IUD makes so much sense. Maybe I'll get one for my birthday. Need a damn IUD. Really wanna get that IUD.

So when someone brings up the IUD in conversation, women get quiet and interested. "I sort of want an IUD," they whisper, like me. And the people who already have one are like: "YASSS BITCH DO ITTT!!! BEING NOT-PREGNANT WITH ZERO EFFORT FOR FIVE YEARS IS EXACTLY WHAT YOUR QWEEN UTERUS DESERVES!!"

The village of bitches went to work. I moved to New York this fall, and a friend recommended a great gynecologist. I've never had a kid and have never been pregnant—which can present a hurdle for some doctors—but this doctor nodded easily when I told her I wanted one. She gave me the insurance particulars and a couple of info sheets, and told me to make an appointment right away.

Then two friends got IUDs in the months before my appointment and gave me the details ("I'm still spotting!" one yelled, smiling, at the bar). One of them remembered my appointment date and brought me a pill at work. The day of—when I realized that the pill I was supposed to put up my vagina in cervix-dilating prep was the abortion pill I had just thoroughly championed in an interview but had spent all my life trying to avoid—I went cold, and my friend emailed me back immediately. "It's hard to believe this would faze you," she wrote matter-of-factly. U can come bleed on my couch, texted another. Right before I left for my appointment, I got an email titled "Thinking of U (terus)!"

Sedated by pills and blessings, I did a tweet.

Behind every successful woman is 14 even more successful women texting her "Stay strong you're gonna be so glad you got the IUD"

— Jia Tolentino (@jiatolentino) January 5, 2015

It's true. I took an extra Advil and headed downtown to my fate.

At the doctor's office, I peed in a cup to show I wasn't pregnant. I sat down with the OB and she answered my questions, which included which IUD I'd signed up for (I had forgotten; it was Mirena), how long I had to wait to have sex (5 days, a period in which she also advised no tampons or vibrators or swimming), how long I had to wait until semen could not impregnate me (just two more days, a week in total after the procedure), if I had to make a follow-up appointment (yes, in eight weeks). She told me what would be normal afterwards (bleeding, cramping, spotting for up to three months) and what would not be (sharp pains, which might indicate a perforation).

"I'm scared," I said.

"I get it," she said kindly. "But most women are just fine after. I have a Mirena. Also, I've put in like five today." She told me that if I was feeling bad after the insertion I could hang out in the office for as long as I wanted.

I followed her to the room, where she gave me some privacy. I stole an Advil packet and took my pants off. I checked my look in the mirror (not great), sent an email (the piece should be up tomorrow!), weighed myself (I don't have a scale and I'm an opportunist). HOW'S YOUR VAGINA, beeped my phone. IS IT A WAR ZONE IS IT FREAKYY?! I snapped a quick selfie (waist up) and sent it back. Here I am, Donald Ducking. Here she comes, my OB.

"This will take less than ten minutes," she said. I imagined the Black Mirror Christmas special and wished my egg-person could do this for me. She gave me the speculum exam, she numbed my cervix with local anesthetic ("Cough for me, dear?" as the swab went up), she swabbed it with antiseptic ("Cough for me again?"), she used a clamp to straighten out the opening ("OUCH," I whimpered, my hands clenched), she sounded my uterus like an ocean (seven centimeters deep, exactly average; "Cool cool," I said, faintly), she got the giant Mirena applicator out and ready. Imagine this!!

And then it jammed.

I started crying very gently. I only cry when I feel both (1) vulnerable and (2) like I've made a mistake. "Did I do something?" I sobbed, like an eighth-grader.

"Oh no my dear," she said. "Oh no. It's the device."

"Uh-huh," I sobbed.

"No, no," she said. "It's—hold on. We can't reuse something that might be faulty. Do you want me to find another Mirena and try again? Or do you want to make another appointment?"

"Try again," I said, hiccuping.

She left the room and my soul went like WAHHHHHHHHHHH!!! My cervix had just crossed its arms and said NO! I DON'T WANT YOU TO BE HAPPY! and I was ashamed of it, and whatever I had done, and my tears.

The OB came back in with another foot-long package. "Are you okay," she said, looking alarmed.

"WAS I TOO TENSE OR SOMETHING," I choked out.

"Oh no!" she said. "Oh, no, no, no, you didn't do anything. It's this button." She showed me, explaining that she has to press a button, which makes the T-shaped arms of the device release, and it just hadn't worked.

Freed of responsibility, I immediately stopped crying.

"Okay," I said, like I was at the DMV getting my photo taken. "Ready."

Back lying down, back in with the speculum and the swabs and the cervix clamp and then the IUD was in. "That's it!" she said. "Everything is great."

I tried to sit up. "Oh, why don't you lay there for a second?" she said, bustling around the room and repeating all the info she had told me earlier while watching me very closely out the corner of her eye. After a few minutes, she told me to sit up slowly, and take my time, and she'd come back to check on me in a bit.

I felt okay, if certainly a little weird, and then all of a sudden like I had molly sweats. The fluorescent light spackled all around me, my vision was thrumming. "Whoa," I whispered, still bottomless. I laid back on the exam chair, whimpering, as sweat soaked through my hair.

Two minutes later, the feeling passed. I stood up like a baby deer and put my pants on and made my follow-up appointment and got in a cab home. Too dizzy and sick to look at my phone, I watched the city lights sparkle on the river and got dizzier. I laid down in the backseat of the car. When I got home I hobbled straight to bed. My dog came out to greet me, cautious. I ordered spicy ramen and put on Election.

(This, on the advice of my friends, is a great plan and one I would recommend: make an end-of-day appointment, take some pharmaceuticals, have someone drive you home, get in bed with a heating pad, get some soothing food, watch TV.)

Within half an hour, I no longer felt flu-sick, but just crampy, and within an hour, I was back in control. (Since then, I have felt vaguely uncomfortable enough to take a lot of Advil but have had no other traces.) I got out of bed, grabbed my birth control pack and tossed it across the room, missing the trash can but feeling free as a damn bird. I was bleeding and it was still already worth it. I pulled my phone out and started texting.

The first one jammed :(

But the second one worked :)

My friends texted back things like, "NOOO" and "R U OK?!?!" and "WHAT" and "Hahahahahaha what the fuck is wrong with your vagina." I'm aliiiiiiiiiive, I texted back, the village of bitches having brought me to a happy end.

Image by Jim Cooke.

#TBT to my NYU days. pic.twitter.com/wVPdPGGix9

— Bill de Blasio (@BilldeBlasio) January 8, 2015

Earlier today: The Bill de Blasio Marijuana Rumors are Coming from Copshttp://gawker.com/the-bill-de-bl...

If you could tell Ryan Reynolds to do anything, what would it be?

[H/T Vulture]

Men, what would you be willing to give up to live a couple decades longer? Think carefully before you answer. Research has shown that men who are castrated may have significantly longer lifespans. Here's what we know.

Photo Credit: Colby Stopa via flickr | CC BY 2.0

Behavior or Biology?

You've probably heard about the gender gap in human life expectancy. According to the United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, females worldwide live an average of 73.5 years, while males average 68.5. Those figures can vary pretty drastically (life expectancy for both men and women is still less than 55 years throughout much of sub-Saharan Africa), but the last several decades have seen large gains in life expectancy across the globe, for men and women, alike. Still, the gender gap persists*. "Wherever they live in the world," reported the World Health Organization in 2014, "women live longer than men."

Why the disparity? It's tempting to pin the blame on social and behavioral differences. Consider, for example, that 82% of people killed by lightning are male. Now, is there something about the male biology that makes it more attractive to bolts of electricity, or are men just more likely to engage in behavior that'll get them zapped? The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, for its part, thinks it's the latter:

Possible explanations for this finding are that males are unaware of all the dangers associated with lightning, are more likely to be in vulnerable situations, are unwilling to be inconvenienced by the threat of lightning, are in situations that make it difficult to get to a safe place in a timely manner, don't react quickly to the lightning threat, or any combination of these explanations.

This pattern of male fatalities exceeding female ones holds, elsewhere. The Insurance Institute for Highway Safety reports that "more men than women die each year in motor vehicle crashes," with the former logging more miles and engaging in riskier driving practices than the latter; and the U.S. Department of Labor reports that, in 2013, male fatalities accounted for a staggering 93% of occupational deaths in the United States.

Castration's Questionable Life-Prolonging Effects

What none of these demographics point to is a clear biological basis for men's shorter lifespans. In the late sixties, however, results from a study conducted by researchers James Hamilton and Gordon Mestler seemed to provide exactly that. The Straight Dope's Cecil Adams provides a tidy summary of their investigation, the findings of which are published in 1969 issue of The Journal of Gerontology:

[Hamilton and Mestler] compared the lifespans of 297 castrated inmates at a Kansas institution for the mentally retarded with those of 735 intact males at the same facility. The castrated males had gone under the knife at ages from 8 to 59 years old, with the average age ranging from 12 (!) in 1898 to 30 in 1923. They didn't vary markedly from intact inmates in terms of IQ, type of mental disability, and so on, suggesting there had been no firm criteria for the operation other than possibly your getting on the hospital staff's nerves — too bad if you were an inmate but lucky for science, since except for castration the two groups were indistinguishable.

Result: the castrated inmates on average lived 13.6 years longer than the intact ones (55.7 vs 69.3 years). What's more, the earlier you were castrated, the longer you lived.

The findings suggested that one side-effect of testosterone may be an abbreviated lifespan, and that curbing the sex hormone's release could help males live longer. Hamilton and Mestler hypothesized that testosterone's ill-effects, and the life-prolonging benefits of castration, applied to males of all species, due in large part to a wideheld belief that castrated animals live longer than their intact counterparts. But the evidence for these assumptions is rather ambiguous.

While there seems to be some consensus that the females of most species live longer than males, a 2010 evaluation of the risks and benefits of neutering dogs and cats pokes holes in the idea that sex hormones are to blame, by reporting that "no firm conclusions can be drawn about the effect of neutering on longevity." One notable exception is a study that found neutering to prolong the lives of Rottweilers, but the fact that neutered females lived longer than their male counterparts confounds things, by suggesting that sex hormones broadly – as opposed to testosterone, specifically – may be responsible for shortened lifespans.

The upshot? It's complicated! A recent investigation into lifespan and aging in Drosophila simulans (an important model organism in speciation research that is closely related to the ubiquitous D. melanogaster) highlights how confusing things can get, when considering the effects of natural and sexual selection – both of which depend on behavioral and social factors – on the evolution of aging and lifespan. Taken together, the authors write, sex-specific effects of sexual selection (i.e. how successful members of a species are at securing and reproducing with mates) and natural selection "may help explain the diverse patterns of aging seen in nature, but complicate predictions about how aging and life span evolve across the sexes."

More Contradicting Evidence

The most recent study I could find on the subject of human castration's longevity boosting effects in humans was "The Lifespan of Korean Eunuchs," a straightforwardly titled investigation performed by Korean scientists Kyung-Jin Min, Cheol0-Koo Lee, and Han-Nam Park, and published in a 2012 issue of Current Biology.

Min and his colleagues studied the genealogical records of 81 Korean eunuchs born between 1556 and 1861. (Historically, Korean royalty relied on eunuchs to guard the gates, manage food, etc., and were the only men outside the royal family permitted to spend the night inside the palace walls.) The average lifespan of eunuchs was found to be 70 years of age (the records also made note of three centenarian eunuchs, including a 109-year-old), 14.4- to 19.1-years longer than the lifespan of non-castrated men of comparable social standing.

Min told the BBC at the time: "We also thought that different living circumstances or lifestyles of eunuchs can be attributed to the lifespan difference... However, except for a few eunuchs, most lived outside the palace and spent time inside the palace only when they were on duty." Instead, the researchers conclude their study "provides compelling evidence that male sex hormone reduces male lifespan."

Evidence is not always proof, however, and other experts emphasize this fact. "It may not have anything to do with being eunuchs," said S. Jay Olshansky, a professor of public health at the University of Illinois in Chicago who studies longevity, at the time. Similarly, a small, unpublished study of 25 documented castrati born between 1610 and 1762 seems to contradict the Korean eunuch study. Researcher J.S. Jenkins found the average lifespan of the castrated group to be similar to that of 25 intact male singers born during a similar period. "The relative longevity for this period may be explained by the fact that both groups lived fairly cosseted lives," Jenkins writes.

All that being said: If you're a man, and you're considering taking drastic measures to extend your lifespan, you should know that everyone seems to agree that castration is not the answer. "I would not recommend becoming a eunuch," says Dr. L. Stephen Coles, a co-founder of the Los Angeles Gerontology Research Group. Taking drugs to reduce your sex hormones is also a bad idea, he says, pushing the quality v. quantity of life angle, adding that this could have undesirable side-effects, e.g. severely diminishing one's sex drive.

Min and the other authors of the Korean eunuch study, agree. There are less drastic ways to extend one's life. Smoke less. Eat better. Exercise more. You know, the usual. "For better health and longevity," they write, "stay away from stresses and learn what you can from women."

You can start by staying inside during lightning storms.

*It is true that, in many countries (the U.S. included), that gap is narrowing; and there are, of course, some striking geopolitical outliers (in Japan, the average male life expectancy of 85 years exceeds the average female life expectancies of all but eleven countries) – but on a country-by-country basis, women still dominate the long game.

17-year-old Swedish pop star Zara Larsson, formerly best known as a Sweden's Got Talent winner, is now primarily known as the woman who wore a condom like a stocking to call out men who claim they're "too big" to wear one.

Condoms are not especially fun to wear, and you can just not wear them if your partner is cool with that. But they come in sizes ranging from Jude Law to Jared Leto to A Human Leg Up to the Knee. One of them fits you, so maybe don't lie about your dick? If you're having the condom argument, they're probably looking at it anyway.

"I merely meant it as a funny joke," Larsson wrote on her blog Tuesday, "Since then newspapers have been writing about what a feminist genius I am!"

"I, personally, don't consider myself to be some kind of Holy Mary of feminism," she continued, pointing out that she's said dumb shit of her own in the past and has benefitted extensively from being a slim, attractive white girl.

Feminist genius or not, you've at least got to give her the funny joke.

[h/t ONTD]

In the weeks since Officer Daniel Pantaleo escaped indictment for killing Eric Garner, the NYPD and organizations that support it have targeted Bill de Blasio with airborne banners, mass back-turnings, and memes about his wife's choice of legwear. It's a horrible display of police fearmongering and entitlement—but it all pales in comparison to "Welcome to Fear City," a pamphlet law enforcement unions published four decades ago to attack the mayor they hated.

Harry Siegel at the New York Daily News brings up "Fear City" in a blog post today, and it made the rounds on city-centric sites like Gothamist in 2013. The story behind its publication should ring a few bells for anyone who's been following the news in New York since December.

In 1975, New York Mayor Abe Beame was on less-than-friendly terms with his police department. Faced with an enormous budget deficit, he publicly considered laying off more than 10,000 uniformed officers, and unions representing police, firefighters, and other city employees were fighting back. (One little-discussed facet of de Blasio's current NYPD battles: a contract dispute with the police union.)

"Welcome to Fear City" was their weapon. The pamphlet, published by a coalition of public-sector unions calling itself the Council for Public Safety, was ostensibly a guide meant for tourists who wanted to avoid danger during their visit to the big city. To a current-day New Yorker, its rules for safe conduct are laughable: Don't take the subway; never leave midtown Manhattan; stay inside after 6 p.m., no matter what neighborhood you're in.

"Fear City"'s true intention was laid out in its second paragraph:

Now, to "solve" his budget problems, Mayor Beame is going to discharge substantial numbers of firefighters and law enforcement officer of all kinds. By the time you read this, the number of public safety personnel available to protect residents and visitors may have already been still further reduced.

In other words, if the mayor gets his way, Fear City is about to get even scarier.

For posterity's sake, the full text of "Welcome to Fear City" is below, as scanned and uploaded to Flickr by user islandersa1.

The city attempted to legally block the unions from distributing the booklet, as well as two other pamphlets called "If You Haven't Been Mugged Yet. . ." and "Who's Next?", but was unsuccessful. According to a June 1975 article in the New York Times, at least one million copies of "Fear City" were printed, but it's unclear how many were actually distributed: The last time the Times mentions the booklets, in an article from the same month, it states that the unions "continued to hold in abeyance distribution of...the skull-emblazoned pamphlets" because of "mounting criticism" from the public. Still, the city was shaken enough that it sent representatives to Paris, Brussels, London, and Frankfurt to counter the "Fear City" narrative via a "15-minute slide presentation" about safe tourism in New York.

If police in 2014 responded to perceived threats from City Hall by trying to make themselves invisible, their 1970s counterparts had an even more baffling tactic: The NYPD, "Fear City" seemed to argue, was powerless to protect the city to begin with.

A Really Greater New York. That was the title of the 1911 proposal by an engineer and planner who imagined paving over massive amounts of New York Harbor to make room to build the New York of the future. Oh, you like the East River and would miss it? Too damn bad!

Yesterday Jen Carlson brought the proposal to our attention, explaining how it was drawn up—and enthusiastically promoted—by one T. Kennard Thomson in 1911. Just how much would Thomson's plan have transformed New York? Well, as it stands today, NYC encompasses 469 square miles. Thomson wanted to add a full 50 square miles to that by infilling huge sections of naturally water-bound New York.

In the context of early modern New York, it wasn't all that crazy. After all, the boundaries of Manhattan had been aggressively expanded since the arrival of Dutch colonists. Ellis Island is built on landfill, as is Battery Park City. During World War II, American naval ships brought back thousands of tons of rubble from English cities that ended up in the East River, serving as infill for FDR Drive.

But all of that pales in comparison to what Thomson, a clearly ambitious city planner and engineer, had in mind.

In a 1916 Popular Science article posted on Reddit, he described the massively expensive and expansive infrastructure project. Starting at the mouth of the East River, artificial infill would great a huge swatch of new land, connecting Brooklyn to Manhattan (a new channel would be dug near Flushing to reroute water through Brooklyn). "As a result, it would not be much harder to get to Brooklyn than to cross Broadway," he writes. "Indeed New York and Brooklyn would be as much one big city as are the East Side and West Side."

That was far from the most dramatic part of the plan, even if it would have indelibly changed the culture of the city. Down at the southern tip of Manhattan, a long chunk of infill would create an entirely new peninsula extending off of the city—bolstered by Governor's Island, which would simply be a piece of Manhattan now.

Across the Hudson, more new land would fill in the area around Bayonne, and a new river would connect Newark Bay to the Upper Bay. That's where Thomson wanted to put Brooklyn's Navy Yard—the East River, he said, was unsuitable for the task. Oh and Staten Island? It would get two massive new peninsulas, while Sandy Hook would get a new island, too.

"I do not urge the simultaneous attack of the entire project," he very wisely counseled.

Thomson's proposal was focused on one thing: Bolstering New York's industrial powerhouse by creating more than 100 miles of new waterfront. "Today engineers are searching for some method to cut the Gordian knot of New York's harbor congestion problems," he explains in his essay.

What he couldn't foresee was that less than 50 years after his work was published, New York's industrial boom would be dying a slow, brutal death. The city's hundreds of existing miles of waterfront would become blighted, useless border territories, unsafe for citizens and barely used by businesses. Instead, they were covered over by multi-lane freeways that would only make things worse.

It's taken another 50 years to begin to rehab NYC's industrial waterfront—in part thanks to the Bloomberg-era Vision 2020 plan. But just imagine how much more industrial waterfront there would be if Thomson's plan had been carried out, even partially. Thank god it didn't have legs.

Here's a great story about the plan from a few years back, if you're looking for more information. Images via Popular Science and Big Think.

Earlier this week, Cameron Diaz, movie star, got married to Benji Madden, backup vocalist and second most famous member of the unmemorable pop-punk band Good Charlotte. The festivities were spread out over the course of two days. Among the delights: a disappointed toast; the guest list of your dreams (your confusing, barely-remembered dreams that don't make sense upon waking); a quasi-Klan hood in beautiful bridal white. "Shit, fuck" said Diaz (reportedly), shortly before walking down the aisle. "This is fucked up."

What follows is our analysis of the parts of the wedding that were fucked up.

A Klandestine Ceremony

Diaz and Madden were married on Monday night in what People describes in an exclusive report as an "intimate ceremony" at their home in Los Angeles. Though People labels the wedding a "surprise," the couple were nonetheless well-prepared for an onslaught of paparazzi attention: In order to hide her dress from prying lenses and the eyes of a nosy God, Diaz walked to the altar fully contained within a miniature sheet pavilion.

Here is a photo of the contraption via a TMZ tweet, which poses the searing but unavoidable question: "Why did Cameron Diaz's wedding look like a KKK rally?":

Why did Cameron Diaz's wedding look like a KKK rally? http://t.co/6sPpXSgg29

— TMZ (@TMZ) January 7, 2015

I don't have the answer.

Notice the raging fire in the upper left, which, when viewed in person rather than in the background a low-quality digital camera photo, would most likely reveal itself to be a table laden with inoffensive candles. Or perhaps a burning cross. Diaz and Madden have never spoken out explicitly against the KKK.

A Toast to My Special Man

After they were wed, and with the symbols of America's foul history blazing brightly all around them, Diaz gave a toast to her new husband Madden. In it, she referred to him as "my special man," echoing the exact sentiment and phrasing of a single mother embarrassing her son at his 11th birthday.

Via the Daily Mail:

'I waited because I didn't want to settle,' the Sex Tape star said at the couple's wedding reception, flashing her famous mega-watt smile.

'Now I got the best man ever. My special man. He's mine.'

One would be hard pressed to come up with a sentiment more romantic than "This wedding took a long time because I wanted to make sure I wasn't settling." What was clear to all the guests was that Cameron wasn't. She was, after all, marrying one of the guys from Good Charlotte but not the one already married to Nicole Richie.

Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Fucked Up Shit

But, perhaps, the dark universe didn't want Cameron Diaz to marry Benji Madden after all. According to the Daily Mail, the lights in her backyard went out "10 seconds before her big bridal entrance," which caused her to let out this string of expletives: "Shit, fuck, this is fucked up. You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

Guests of Honor: Wiz Khalifa and Jared Leto's Mom

What actually was fucked up was the guest list, which, according to the Daily Mail, included Gwyneth Paltrow, Reese Witherspoon and Christina Applegate, as well as Wiz Khalifa and, Constance Leto, mother of Jared. Bridesmaids were Drew Barrymore (O.K.) and Robin Antin of the Pussycat Dolls (What?), and music was provided by Ryan Adams (WHY?).

Tater Tot Things

A day later, Diaz and Madden hosted a small celebration at a club in Hollywood. This party slipped under the radar of the paparazzi, but details were passed along to us by a tipster who claims to have been present.

It was at a small bar in Hollywood, maybe 50, 75 people. Drew Barrymore, Sam Ronson, Joel and Nicole, and of course Benj and Cameron. Lots of music people. Very friendly happy vibe.

There were no toasts. It was just everyone hanging out, totally casual. I didn't even look at her ring when I was talking to her! But she was gorgeous of course. She wore a red lace dress.

Servers passed around hamburgers, tater tot things, and mini caesar salad. Very casual.

Nicole was there. She's known Cameron for awhile - I think she introduced her to Benji. They like each other.

Cameron "was gorgeous of course." Cameron and Nicole Richie "like each other." The vibe was very totally casual.

We cannot know for certain whether the anonymous tipster who contacted us was, in fact, one Cameron Diaz, but if it was, allow us to say: Congratulations.

Sorry about the fucked up shit.

[image via Splash]

Dean Baquet, the executive editor of The New York Times, is defending his decision not to reprint any Charlie Hebdo cartoons depicting Mohammad with an argument that might confuse Times readers. Today he told Politico: “We don’t run things that are designed to gratuitously offend.”

This dictum is confusing because it’s false: On many occasions the paper of record has printed images that are “designed to gratuitously offend.” Here are 7 examples; there are surely more.

1. The Times printed this anti-Semitic cartoon in 2010:

2. This racist Dr. Seuss drawing in 2011:

3. This anti-Semitic caricature in 2005:

4. This photograph of a racist “Golliwog” doll in 2009:

5. This racist children’s book in 2009:

6. This racist children’s cartoon in 2009:

7. This photo of one Westboro Baptist Church member holding a sign which reads “THE JEWS KILLED JESUS” and two others wearing shirts that say “GODHATESFAGS.COM” in 2009:

There are, of course, many articles where the Times declined to reproduce an offensive image alongside an article addressing that image. For instance it did not print a cartoon, which originally appeared in Rupert Murdoch’s Sunday Times, depicting Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu using the blood of Palestinians as mortar for a brick wall. (That particular article, concerning Murdoch’s apology for the cartoon’s publication, did however link to a tweet containing the cartoon.)

Remember any other offensive images the Times has published? Throw them in below.

Correction: This post originally stated that the Times appears to be unwilling to print any photos of Westboro Baptist Church members in which the slogan “GOD HATES FAGS” is visible. As you can see in the seventh entry above, two of the members pictured are wearing shirts bearing that phrase. Thanks to GMAFB for pointing this out.

Breaking: hardworking Atlanta assistant D.A. and Bachelorette star Andi Dorfman has ended her engagement to male labrador and former minor league baseball player Josh Murray, whom she met on the show. Many are shocked, as the couple was just seen arm-in-arm on The Bachelor red carpet Monday.

Andi's Instagram bio still reads "The Bachelorette 10/Sushi Lover/Frown Facer/Believer in Love/The Future Mrs. Murray," so honestly, no one was prepared for this. The two were engaged for roughly eight months.

Just days ago on New Year's Eve, Andi was spotted on her own Instagram account wearing the giant Neil Lane diamond bestowed upon her by Josh and provided by the producers of The Bachelorette during the show's finale, when Andi picked him over Nick. Again, a lot of people are feeling blindsided by this news.

In a joint statement, the now ex-couple (!!!) explained:

After several months of being engaged and working on our relationship, we have decided that it's best for both of us to go our separate ways. We are very sad that it has come to this point, but this is what's best for both of us individually. We will continue to be good friends and have nothing but great things to say about each other and wish each other the best.

More information as it becomes available.

New York City courts have been quiet in the two and a half weeks since the NYPD essentially stopped arresting people. The New York Times reports that arraignments have dropped 60 and 91 percent for misdemeanor offenses and low-level violations like disorderly conduct over the past two and a half weeks compared with the same period last year. Overall, arraignments in December were down 34 percent compared to last year.

"It's slow, crazy slow," a public defender from Legal Aid told the Times Tuesday night at a Manhattan court, where just 30 defendants were arranged instead of the usual 60 to 90. Another Legal Aid worker told the paper that there's "been a big difference" since the NYPD began its so-called "work stoppage" in late December.

Other boroughs have also seen a slowdown in new cases. From the Times:

Brooklyn Criminal Court is usually so busy that although each arraignment lasts only a few minutes, two courtrooms are occupied day and night, one for felonies and one for misdemeanors.

Now, just one courtroom handles all the traffic. That led to a strange mix of cases on Tuesday. Offenders, whether they were accused of felonies or whether they were given desk-appearance tickets weeks ago, passed through a single courtroom. Tuesday's cases included an armed robbery, shoplifters and traffic offenders.

The Brooklyn Defender Services shared information about the drop in new cases. The week before Officers Liu and Ramos's deaths, there were 838 arraignments in Brooklyn's Kings County Criminal Court; in the week following the shooting, that number dropped to just 265. And a public defender I spoke to from another borough said arraignments had dropped significantly since mid-December, from an average of 150 to 250 per day to just 25 to 75.

The drop in arraignments shouldn't come as a surprise. In the two weeks on record since Ramos and Liu were killed, arrests overall have been down 66% and 56% compared to the same period last year. The drop has been even higher for minor offenses. From the Times:

The numbers, disclosed on Monday, reveal a downturn in nearly every category of arrest — including gun possession and drunken driving — and all three categories of summons activity, parking violations, (down 93 percent to 1,191 from 16,008); traffic infractions (down 92 percent, to 749 from 9,349); and low-level crimes (down 91 percent).

Public defenders, noting that felonies didn't rise over the same period, seem to hope the slowdown becomes permanent. "This proves to us is what we all knew as defenders: You can end broken-windows policing without ending public safety," Justine M. Luongo, the deputy attorney-in-charge of criminal practice for the Legal Aid Society, told the Times. The defender I spoke with echoed Luongo's hopes, and said "This is exactly what should be happening."

"As a public defender, we're constantly overbooked," another attorney told the Times. "So I can't really complain about being less busy than usual."

[Image via AP]

Near the end of 2013, country music critic Grady Smith came to the depressing realization that the most popular songs in the genre that year were all basically the same song.

"I hope country fans will stop settling for this derivative junk. I love a dumb party song every once in a while (including some of these!), but when they're the only flavor available, they get old very, very fast. Here's to better music in 2014," he wrote at the time, "Here's to better music in 2014."

Sorry, buddy. It was a beautiful dream, but it emphatically did not work out.

Here's a mashup of six recent pop-country smashes, four of which were released in 2014, that sound so similar that you can play them on top of each other and lose almost nothing. It's the Nickelback incident of ought-five all over again, but for a whole genre.

Here's to better music in 2015, although saying it out loud likely jinxes us with another year of that guitar riff and those trucks.

[h/t Digg]

Even Ross Douthat came out swinging yesterday in favor of the slain cartoonists of Charlie Hebdo ("The Blasphemy We Need"). Since it is difficult to find even one square inch of common ground between right and left in American politics, this ought to have come as good news. Unfortunately, Douthat's Take is yet another of the many, many exercises in facile hypocrisy we've seen since yesterday.

In a flagrant attempt at a "bipartisan" tone that duped the pundits all over Twitter, Douthat wrote:

[I]f publishing something might get you slaughtered and you publish it anyway, by definition you are striking a blow for freedom, and that's precisely the context when you need your fellow citizens to set aside their squeamishness and rise to your defense.

It is very convenient for the likes of Ross Douthat to suddenly proclaim himself an advocate for "blasphemy" at the exact moment that twelve "blasphemers" were murdered by alleged Muslim extremists. More convenient still, that the kind of Blasphemy We Need happens to be blasphemy against Islam. No problem at all there! It is unsurprising in the extreme that the most hawkish, pro-Iraq War pro-Bush and anti-Islamic conservatives are now falling all over themselves to defend Charlie Hebdo. One cannot help wondering how keen Douthat would be on blasphemy that included cartoons of the star-spangled anus of Jesus Christ.

On the other side of the political spectrum, a lot of the same people who are ordinarily deeply concerned about sensitivity and tolerance have, in the last twenty-four hours, discovered themselves to be full-bore advocates of unfettered expression. Nothing easier than to be for free speech—today. To be one hundred percent pro-Charlie Hebdo's provocative humor is now de rigueur, because one of the only absolutely OK things for literally everyone to be against is massacres.

In any case, Douthat was singing a somewhat different tune in 2007, in a weird essay about religious allegory in Battlestar Galactica and Lost. Here, he declared that "the fight for decency in American popular culture" had been lost:

The result is the unrestrained and unrestrainable popular culture of today, where every concept, no matter how lowbrow or how vile, can find a platform and an audience [...] an FCC crackdown on a raunchy radio host only nudges him into a lucrative new spot on satellite radio; a community that manages to keep X-rated movies out of its theaters and video stores is just pushing money into the pockets of sleaze merchants [...] Small wonder that America's movies and music and television shows make us enemies in traditional societies around the world, and small wonder, too, that many cultural conservatives, despairing of their country's future, embrace withdrawal from the world into a narrow, well-defended Christendom, where their families and their faith can be protected from the lowest-common-denominator swill that washes against the walls outside.

To be fair, Douthat followed this doleful assessment with the thinly argued but hopeful conjecture that a less-homogenized, more pluralistic culture would have more room for the meaningful consideration of religious questions. Like on Battlestar Galactica. It's true, Battlestar Galactica is fairly interesting that way.

I too am a free-speech advocate, and am therefore in favor of people spewing absolutely the most heinous bullshit, if they must. It's a relief, however, to see people realizing that lot of the stuff that Charlie Hebdo published was really gross and racist. The massacre took place against the backdrop of an ugly strain of xenophobia in France, and the rise of Marine Le Pen, who represents a faction substantially worse in its virulent racism even than our most rabid right-wing partisans. It will be terrible if this massacre results in any kind of traction for Le Pen's National Front (founded by her dad, the truly repulsive bigot, anti-Semite and Holocaust denier Jean-Marie Le Pen, and I still can't believe a real political party can even be called that). Such a result would be diametrically against the avowed leftist politics (such as they were) of Charlie Hebdo.

Marine Le Pen's party is a party of hate. And Charlie Hebdo—however legitimate its position about free speech, however much the staff may have styled themselves freewheeling leftists—trafficked in hateful images and ideas that often tracked uncomfortably closely with the ultragarbage peddled by the fascistoid National Front.

I want the Charlies Hebdo of the world to say every revolting thing they want to say. But here is the exercise of my own free speech: Those guys were gross. Fanning the flames of xenophobia at a time of increased violence against Muslims and their places of worship is stupid. Not because it endangered the writers of Charlie Hebdo!—it was their look-out, if they thought these things needed saying—but because it endangered innocent Frenchmen working abroad and made it harder to fight the very grave problem of xenophobia at home. Because a bunch of idiots would be like, très très drôle, it's so funny to hate Mohammed (mdr)! Surely journalists should at least try to take some responsibility for how bigoted, ignorant people are going to "take the joke."

Juan Cole had a fine analysis of yesterday's events, pointing out that these murders are political in nature, carried out for the specific aim of fomenting hate and polarization, and pointing to Norway's low-key, unsensational treatment of Anders Breivik as a good model to follow.

Most of France will also remain committed to French values of the Rights of Man, which they invented. But an insular and hateful minority will take advantage of this deliberately polarizing atrocity to push their own agenda. Europe's future depends on whether the Marine LePens are allowed to become mainstream.

All who believe in the value of a free press grieve when a journalist is killed or jailed for speaking out. Also: We want to be civilized. We want to tell the truth, and we want to treat one another with respect. These events need a nuanced analysis and response, because the two imperatives are always in tension: the need for deliberately giving offense where that is warranted, against the desire to show universal respect and tolerance.

Jessica Chastain has "no idea" what she is wearing to Sunday's Golden Globes. Girl, it's Thursday! Let's help her.

According to People, Chastain spoke to reporters about her dresslessness at the National Board of Review awards gala in New York City on Tuesday, saying:

"I have a press day in New York, then I'm flying to L.A. and I have a fitting and hopefully something will fit! It's the first time I've ever gone to an awards show and not had more of an idea of what I'm going to wear earlier."

Jessica Chastain, my man! You think you can take your Hollywood body and pretty hair and beautiful face and throw them in any old dress a stylist has chosen for you and have it be fine even though you didn't do it a couple weeks in advance? Give me a break. Here is a selection of perfectly good options, available for you NOW NOW NOW!

This Mossimo® Women's Faux Leather Trim Dress is available in assorted colors, but I do think Jessica Chastain would be wise to stick with the classic "Athens Blue Combo," as it would best complement her red hair and fair skin. For $14.98 and 10% off with code, Jessica Chastain would be a fool not to buy this dress for the Golden Globes.

Fashion is about taking risks, and here, if Jessica Chastain chooses this Mossimo® Women's High Low Racerback Dress - Assorted Colors for the Golden Globes, she will take two: wearing a racerback dress to an awards show in January, and purchasing a dress that she has not yet seen on a human body. Why doesn't she look at the pictures of the dress on the model that are available under the photo of the dress the website displays automatically? Girl, Jessica Chastian does not have time! It's Thursday!

Oh man, if Jessica Chastain could get her hands on the gown Taylor Swift wore to the 2014 Met Gala, I think that would be really something. This is a nice dress and it looked nice on Taylor Swift—why not Jessica Chastain at the Golden Globes?

Oh my god. Remember Jennifer Lawrence's dress from when she fell at the Oscars? That dress was so beautiful, Jessica Chastain you should get this dress!

This one was all right, you can wear this one again?

Actually it seems like you wear this style a lot—go for something a little different, why not, have fun with it!

Maybe this?

I don't know, Jessica Chastain! Get a dress!

[images via Getty]

A group of flight attendants say United fired them for refusing to fly on a Hong Kong-bound 747 that had the words "BYE BYE" and a frowning face mysteriously written in oil on the fuselage.

The 13 former employees sued the airline over the July 14, 2014 flight, which they say was preparing for takeoff at the San Francisco airport when workers discovered the six-inch-tall graffiti written on the tail about 30 feet off the ground.

Via CBS:

In the wake of the disappearance of Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 four months earlier, Lam and the crew said they perceived the message as a serious threat.

But according to the 26-page complaint, United Airlines refused to deplane Flight 869, and the ground crew inspected only the auxiliary power unit, or APU, near the drawings, and said it was a "joke."

The flight attendants refused to fly without a full security sweep, and the trip that was was canceled since United had no crew.

Two months later, they were all fired for insubordination.

According to Bloomberg, the complaint alleges the graffiti was about 30 feet off the ground on a plane located in a secure area and "should have triggered a more-comprehensive reaction."

A United spokesperson tells the Chicago Tribune the airline plans to defend the lawsuit "vigorously."

You know that scene in Goodfellas after the airport heist where Robert DeNiro tells his guys not to buy anything with the money, lest they be discovered, and then one of them runs out and buys a new pink Cadillac for his wife? That just happened in England, except with a Ferrari. And the criminal in question is a police officer.

The BBC reports that details have come to light in the criminal case against Osman Iqbal, a former Birmingham officer sentenced to seven years in jail after being convicted of running a brothel, money laundering, selling drugs and other charges along with a gang of now also-convicted men and women.

What tipped police off to the fact that one of their own was involved with organized crime? When he showed up to work — to work, at his job, as a police officer — in a $250,000 Ferrari 458 Italia.

Iqbal had good taste in cars, but that's about all I can say for him. The appearance of his new exotic led investigators from his own department to start looking into his activities. From the story:

Colleagues became suspicious and West Midlands Police's counter-corruption unit began investigating. Officers discovered Iqbal, from Ward End, had bank accounts for two non-existent businesses that were being used to launder "hundreds of thousands of pounds" from brothels in the Covent Garden and Marylebone areas of London.

During their investigations, detectives also found Iqbal had attempted to access police intelligence systems. Iqbal was asked by Nahiem Ajmal, a Birmingham religious leader, to obtain information on behalf of Sajad Khan, West Midlands Police said.

News reports say Iqbal and his cousin, convicted armed robber Talib Hussain, would pick clients up from strip clubs, take them to their brothels, sell them drugs, and run up charges on their bank cards. The victims wouldn't report the crimes because, you know, that's really embarrassing.

Other members of the gang included Iqbal's cousins, his sister, and her husband. Iqbal was jailed in September on charges of conspiracy to run a brothel, conspiracy to launder money and possession of Class A drugs with intent to supply. The details of his case remained sealed until recently, and he faces further time on charges of misconduct in a public office.

Hey, Doug — looks like someone had an even more disappointing Ferrari ownership experience than you did.

President Obama announced Thursday night a multibillion dollar plan to make the first two years of community college free for all students "willing to work for it."

Obama promised to explain the particulars of the education plan Friday during a scheduled speech at a community college in Knoxville, Tennessee, calling the plan a "preview of the State of the Union."

Put simply what I'd like to do is to see the first two years of community college free for everybody who is willing to work for it. That's right, free for everyone who's willing to work for it. It's something we can accomplish and it's something that will train our workforce so that we can compete with anybody in the world.

The plan would depend on federal funding which would cover about 75 percent of the expected multibillion dollar cost, the Los Angeles Times reports. Full-time community college students currently pay an average of $3,800 a year.

Students will have to qualify for the program for the free ride—according to the Wall Street Journal, the White House plans to vet and accredit qualified colleges and students will have to maintain a 2.5 grade-point average and "make steady progress" to maintain eligibility.

[image via AP]

Bill Cosby finally acknowledged the allegations piling up against him during his second night of stand-up in Canada by warning a female audience member to be careful drinking around him, according to reports.

One National Post reporter, Richard Warnica, detailed the encounter on Twitter, which was echoed by other users.

"You have to be careful about drinking around me," Cosby just said to a woman in the crowd. Loud gasps from the audience.

— Richard Warnica (@richardwarnica) January 9, 2015

We have our first heckler. She offers Cosby a drink. He jokes "you gotta be careful about drinking around me." #ldnont #lm

— Ashton Patis (@AshtonPatis) January 9, 2015

Member of audience asking cosby if he drinks. #cosby says u need to be careful drinking around me. Woman walks out

— Kerry McKee (@kerrymckee50) January 9, 2015

"You have to be careful about drinking around me," Cosby says to somebody who appears to be leaving voluntarily.

— Craig Needles (@NeedlesOnNews) January 9, 2015

According to Warnica Cosby initiated the discussion when "A woman in the front row got up to go get a drink. Cosby asked her where she was going. She asked him if he wanted a drink. He said no, he already had one (a bottle of water). Then he continued 'You have to be careful about drinking around me.'"

So how did his first public acknowledgement of the allegations pending against him go over with the crowd? Pretty well!!!!!

The gasps then changed to cheers and applause.

— Richard Warnica (@richardwarnica) January 9, 2015

[image via AP]

Just days after extolling the steamy pleasures of traditional gender-role relationships, actress Kaley Cuoco forgot to mention her husband while accepting an acting award for her popular science television program.

Thankfully current co-star (and, apparently, former secret lover) Johnny Galecki saved the day for Cuoco! Which seems somewhat counter to the "boring" "housewife" lifestyle she recently extolled to Redbook, but good on you, girl.

Via the Daily News:

Ex-boyfriend and co-star, Johnny Galecki, decided to step in and help her out later on in the show.

"Hey, wow, thank you so much. Hey, just real quick, I'd like to take a brief moment, because Kaley forgot during her speech to thank her husband, Ryan ..." Galecki said while accepting the [People's Choice] award for Favorite Network TV Comedy with "The Big Bang Theory" cast.

"You are my heart and I can't imagine what I'd be without you," Galecki joked.

But alas, it would not be the only time that evening she'd forget her beloved: Cuoco later thanked Galecki, but not her husband, in an Instagram message about thanking her husband.

"I wanna thank @sanctionedjohnnygalecki for thanking my amazing husband Ryan at the #peopleschoiceawards tonight because Ryan's wife, me, forgot during her speech. #suckywife #amazinghusband."

[image via AP]