Every Time I Link, a Shar-Pei has to Die

Batten down the hatches, cover the children's eyes, for I am about to "blog."

My aversion to "blogging" is well-documented. I simply don't link to other bloggers, for it is something akin to a Guantanamo Bay human rights violation to leave this site before you have savored every precious word that I've posted with very little thought.

But my old crony from my pre-conquering-Hollywood-like-a-bloodthirsty-Viking days in the New York Media Elite has opened shop on the Web. After you have read everything on this wonderful internet presence, feel free to check out ex-Gawker editrix (I don't even know what that word means) and current New York magazine scribe (I don't even know what that word means) Elizabeth Spiers at The Kicker, her new blog. I feel that she needs the hand-up that so many have given me, so my link will join those of roughly 16,000 other internet
suitors. Besides, she is probably the only person who looks better than me in black-and-white with a sweater draped over her shoulders.

There. I did it. I "blogged."

I feel dirty. I need to go gargle with Paris Hilton's tonsils. Or maybe the tonsils of the other one, because I don't particularly want to taste Brian Urlacher.

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