That guy who started Craigslist? We call him Craig. We knew him here in Dee-troit long before he became a gazillionaire, started hob-nobbing with Martha Stewart and started pontificating about the zeitgeist. We simply knew him as…Craig. Anyway, he was in town last week for one of those crazy speeches of his, and we all had dinner. And besides the reality of sitting cross-legged in the Korean restaurant being a bit more uncomfortable than the idea of it, everybody had a swell time. Craig seemed pretty much like the guy we used to know, except now he wears black all the time. And his bodyguards were actually very nice! (Though those food-tasters of his could learn a few things about manners…) Who knows, maybe we’ll get together in another 13 years!

If you’re really into it, there’s more pictures here.

Body Count stands at 165. Detailed historical reference is here.

Dave Barry has some good insights here..

Three of the four people who knew Jack Bauer was still alive at the start of this season are dead. One remains: Chloe O’Brien.

“Yeah, I’m really liking my odds,” says Mary Lynn Rajskub, the actress who plays CTU’s resident and resourceful computer hacker.
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We went to the Community Easter Egg Hunt. We had the relatives over. We built a sandboat. Coop ate chocolate. Next up – a visit to the Dentist! Click here for pictures.

This week’s body count: 161 Obesessive details can be gleaned here.

Thanks to “Eagle Eye” Sean Juan for the update on Jack’s kill ratio last week.

Let’s start with a question. A few questions, actually: When did it become normal for your average 35-year-old New Yorker to (a) walk around with an iPod plugged into his ears at all times, listening to the latest from Bloc Party; (b) regularly buy his clothes at Urban Outfitters; (c) take her toddler to a Mommy’s Happy Hour at a Brooklyn bar; (d) stay out till 4 A.M. because he just can’t miss the latest New Pornographers show, because who knows when Neko Case will decide to stop touring with them, and everyone knows she’s the heart of the band; (e) spend $250 on a pair of jeans that are artfully shredded to look like they just fell through a wheat thresher and are designed, eventually, to artfully fall totally apart; (f) decide that Sufjan Stevens is the perfect music to play for her 2-year-old, because, let’s face it, 2-year-olds have lousy taste in music, and we will not listen to the Wiggles in this house; (g) wear sneakers as a fashion statement; (h) wear the same vintage New Balance sneakers that he wore on his first day of school in the seventh grade as a fashion statement; (i) wear said sneakers to the office; (j) quit the office job because—you know what?—screw the office and screw jockeying for that promotion to VP, because isn’t promotion just another word for “slavery”?; (k) and besides, now that she’s a freelancer, working on her own projects, on her own terms, it’s that much easier to kick off in the middle of the week for a quick snowboarding trip to Sugarbush, because she’s got to have some balance, right? And she can write it off, too, because who knows? She might bump into Spike Jonze on the slopes; (l) wear a Misfits T-shirt; (m) make his 2-year-old wear a Misfits T-shirt; (n) never shave; (o) take pride in never shaving; (p) take pride in never shaving while spending $200 on a bedhead haircut and $600 on a messenger bag, because, seriously, only his grandfather or some frat-boy Wall Street flunky still carries a briefcase; or (q) all of the above?
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Superman Is A Dick.

Kiefer Sutherland is quite looking forward to the day when the creators of the unnerving Fox TV show 24 do unto his Jack Bauer character what they’ve done to so many others: kill him off, brutally, but with few tears. “Don’t get me wrong,” he says. “I love what I do.” But he’s thirty-nine years old, a little pent-up and a lot tired. All he’s had for the past five years, ten months out of each year, are endless fourteen-hour days of working on the show, gun in hand, eyes squinted, voice on ultra-incredibly intense, saving the world with methods that might not be right but are never wrong. He has no girlfriend in his life, no affection or release of that sort. Sometimes he feels trapped, caged, really. And then, as a consequence, he occasionally falls into the scotch bottle and ends up making a messy spectacle of himself.
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LASIK@Home

Groovy new surf spy music should make the next ‘24′ soundtrack a hit at the clubs!

The body count stands at an impressive 154. Nano-level detail is available HERE.