Sunday Stylin': Girls hate jokes

In today's desperately pathetic attempt to fill space and gain advertising revenue, we learn that women have ruined jokes, celebrities shape their personal lives for PR advantages, and the Times further indicates that it may be selling its reportorial soul to one of its advertisers. Also, thanks to the dude who e-mailed us about what an "Etro" is. To be honest, the question was rhetorical and we don't really care, but it's nice to have an engaged readership.

Still Striking a Pose. All about "voguing" and the drag queen community. Way, way, way outside of my demographic and pay range, and I'm too P.C. to touch this piece, other than to note that Guy Trebay likes to overwrite: "And not even a churl could keep from being charmed by the House of Cavalli, a posse of refrigerator-size men who swept into the Westin ballroom near midnight wearing demure French twists and dresses of diaphanous chiffon that had to have been cut from acre-sized bolts."

It's the most smashtastic, startling, excellent, exciting example of overusing numerous adjectives and some considered aliteration this side of My Name is Charlotte Simmons. Also, this article will work wonders on the Times's self-destructive ambitions of appealing to the exurbs and hinterlands.

Seriously, the Joke is Dead. Warren St. John is all about the ha-has. After introducing us to Rodney Rothman, he's moved on to another comedic failure -- jokes. Jokes have been replaced by observational humor. Why has this happened? It may be due to chicks: "Theories abound: the atomic bomb, A.D.D., the Internet, even the feminization of American culture, have all been cited as possible causes." (emphasis added) St. John proceeds to talk about how ladies don't like jokes, and we all have senses of humor like girls. Also, young people are too insecure and self-conscious to tell jokes.

St. John obviously does not remember Minnie Driver's character in Good Will Hunting, who tells a raunchy joke. And Cole Slaw Blog knows very few self-conscious young people -- that pretty much goes against the purpose of this site's existence, as well as our own as individuals.

Regardless, this article reminds of a story that I heard the other day. A cup of coleslaw walks into a bar. "Pardon me," says a pretty lady, "but it looks like you're made with fresh cabbage." "I am indeed," said the cup of coleslaw, "but have you seen my carrot?"

I Love You With All My Hype. People are skeptical about the veracity of the Tom Cruise-Katie Holmes romance. The article explores how a bunch of famous actors have faked romances for P.R. purposes. This article is long, boring, and lacks insight. Leave it to Sunday Styles to overintellectualize nonsense:

"If you co-mingle external reality and fantasy, fantasy loses," he said, citing the relentless stories about Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck preceding the release of their movie "Gigli," which flopped.

S'wounds! This one will be remembered come Pulitzer season.

630 Symbols of Infinity. I did not want to write about this one. I initially blurbed it. But in our continuing effort to point out the Times's irrelevance in hopes of saving it, we make sacrifices. One of them is parsing this article.

Frenchman Lucien Pellat-Finet more than likes diamonds. He loves them. According to the article, he "still feels kinship everlasting with the tough little carbon crystals."

The writing gets worse. The following may be an all-time low in the Times's once-vaunted history. Yes, the paper that published the Pentagon Papers and the Vietnam dispatches of Neil Sheehan is reduced to this:

Sure, they're tough and everything, a perfect 10 on the Mohs scale and the signifier (in jewel-ese) of eternal love. But what with a recent fashion joy ride courtesy of two words - bling bling - ice may soon find itself likened to more ephemeral delights: sex, fame, InStyle magazine. Beautiful tonight, but will you still sparkle in the morning?

Diamonds are later compared to catnip, and when the French dude saw 50 Cent wearing a diamond bracelet, he decided to one-up him. If you've given any thought to how the Sixties generation went wrong, here's a hint.

Fabulous as it is (and as much as Mr. Pellat-Finet likes to blast club music as he drives his pickup truck through the streets of Miami, where he has an apartment), the bracelet is for him a throwback to his hippie roots.

Oh, fuck.

Paul Haggis: Happy Hours. The Times describes the 52-year-old screenwriter of Million Dollar Baby and director of the new movie Crash as an "it boy." This is condescending to the subject of the article, and reflects poorly on the creativity of writer Monica Corcoran. Haggis and friends meet regularly to discuss a range of interesting issues; this is something that the Styles section should try. Haggis sounds awesome, but this article is not.

In other Styles news, a person can purchase used clothes and wear them, office life can be banal and romance is difficult, and some people in LA serve burgers. Children bring doormen and/or a parent's same-sex partner to school open houses. In Boston, there is a bar that sounds like every bad bar in New York, only worse.

The Times also continues to shill for Chanel through its editorial content. Flop has documented the phenomenon here and here. The theory that the Times is overemphasizing this company for pecuniary gain is building momentum. I imagine the Styles editors sitting in their weekly meeting, scratching their heads, and struggling to devise a new angle to shine attention on this favored advertiser. Okay, so maybe that's not the case, but when the paper hypes the same corporate entity week after week, you start to wonder.