KTB

I took a walk around Washington Square Park and the West Village today. There was an old auto repair shop that I must have walked by dozens of times but never really noticed. The owner, Gary, was very nice and let me take some pix of his shop. He also offered me some vodka. I accepted. However, instead of pouring me a shot, he poured me a half a plastic cup full. A big, grandiose 12 ounce plastic cup. Now I have a new friend.

The rest of the pix in the series here.

Did you know that if you re-arranged some of the word's on today's Post cover, it would say

City's Hard for $25M Cell Phone Towers Deal

Kimora Lee Simmons was apprehended in Bergen County and charged with eluding a cop, possessing some funky smelly green stuff, careless driving and some other crap.

What's this? Another fabulous person busted? Along with drugs no doubt? Oh my God we're freaking out here. And what about that little red string around our criminal's wrist? Wasn't it supposed to ward off all types of evil - you know the pOlice and shit??? This is definitely pork on Kabbalah's face.

The funniest thing about this though were Russell Simmons' comments

"My wife is an excellent driver, and she's not guilty of any crime. You don't have to grab my wife and put handcuffs on her. Her wrists are all bruised up."

This is a sampling of some random shots I took of my neighborhood. The pictures progress from the Strand Bookstore over to East 9th and 2nd Ave. Then they veer back up to 3rd Ave and head north past Webster Hall and eventually back to 13th street.

It's been raining in New York for the past few days but it seems like much longer. It always does. I thought going with black and white would convey the general feeling this dismal weather has brought.

By the way, I never noticed how many bikes get their rear tires stolen. Whatever do the thieves do with just the rear tire I wonder.

The rest of the pix in this series are here.

Another photo of elusive 1970's bodybuilder Bronan has surfaced.

Looks like Bronan is no "girlie man". Here he is working out with the young California State Governer - ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER. Look at those veins! More to come.

You'd think these dopes would have gotten the point already.

Speaking with an associate of ours, we asked him how he intends to handle his dilemma. He has a serious girlfriend. Marriage may be on the horizon. But he slept with an ex-girlfriend of his very recently. A very beautiful ex-girlfriend nonetheless. When asked how he will handle this situation, he replied

"I'm not the one with the dilemma. Girlfriend A has the dilemma. Ex-girlfriend B has the dilemma. I have two bitches now."

First Mary Kate. Then Belgian model, Ingrid Parewij. Along the way we hit some speculation that Bijou Phillips, Lindsay Lohan and Hilary Duff were all packing their beaks.

And now there's word that the Goddess of bling-iacci (how do you say "bling" in Italian?) - Donatella - is seeking treatment for her very own cocaine addiction.

We say WOW. Coke, the relatively blase party drug from the 70's/80's era is back and bigger than ever. But you didn't really need us to tell you that. Spend a few minutes lurking in the casual encounters section of craigslist and you'll be inundated with offers to "ski, snow, play Santa, etc."

Welcome back dear friend. Welcome back.

Good fucking tale boys. We're closing because our lease expired... LOFL. Why don't you fill the rest of us in and explain that your shitty euro-ass-licking-ball-sniffing-shitpen is closing because you haven't had a decent night's business since the Beak Packing district blew up.

No, you say? No? That's not it at all. We're still kicking ass.
Bullshit! When's the last time anyone remembers reading about your pepe den. Been a few years if you ask me. A few years indeed.

But no, you'd just rather tell your little whopper and have us all throw you one giant forget-me-not-fuckfest so you can charge us $12 a drink all over again. Hardy haar haar haar. Here's a forget-me-not for you: Good Riddance and Go Fuck Yourselves! You and your shitty establishment have been nothing but a blight on the neighborhood. Peace!

By the way, will you be offering discounts on drinks and bottles? The frugal minded want to know.

Ed. Note: Uhhhhm, we were a little wired when we penned this post. Couple that with the fact that we didn't get into Pangaea one night in our youth and you have an angry little post.

I haven't written much about my friend "The Grabber". He's a dear friend of mine and is very nice when sober.

BUT

After a few cocktails, his mild mannered demeanor is put to sleep and his shadow comes out to play. An innocent bystander snapped this pic you are about to see.

Oh Lordy! What we have here is a female in the lion's den. She came over for a free drink. Next thing you know, her forearm is in the Grabber's paw and her hand has somehow managed to steer it's way onto the Grabber's crotch. Go figure.

Give Don Giovanni one drink and he starts to tango. Always!

I had visitors in town last week again. Two of my friends (although they're not friends with each another) - Don Giovanni and Roberto Cackapolli - are visiting me once again from Italy. Surprisingly, both these guys hail from Firenze, Italia yet they don't like one another and have nothing in common.

I took the two Eye-talians to Luna Park in Union Square Park. It was a nice day out and we were quite thirsty. More pix and story continued HERE.

They say her problem in these pix is with her bra. We have to disagree. In fact, we agree to disagree with much ardor. What is going on with this chick? She really needs to disappear for a few years and re-invent herself. Perhaps a sabbatical to Tibet is inline for our little Brit.

Fear not people, we were out all day yesterday but we're back today. Let us start this morning off by highly recommending the Muse album (Absolution) we recently purchased. We cannot stop listening to this album over and over at KTB headquarters.

Muse's album is influenced by a variety of different styles and genres. There's classical music thrown into the mix as well as a heavy layer of a radiohead-esqueness. Is that a word? We don't care.

It's actually nice to hear some musical instruments for once. We've inundated ourselves in hip hop as of late so this is a nice and refreshing break - to hear some white music like this we mean. The vocals are strong as are the variety of instruments that you hear. Certain songs are just plain haunting while others are strong and fast. You can definitely lose yourself while listening to this album.

Get the CD and thank us or just pay us a visit and we'd be glad to burn you a copy. Just kidding, just kidding. That would be illegal....

While Mickey-D's is still her favorite snack, Brit was snapped up nibbling on something other than fast food here. The rest of the pix in the series are at vividblurry.
[via defamer]

Them bitches up in Boston really started war yesterday. We predict rabid Yankee fans setting fire to the Boston dugout next time the Sox play in NY.

We don't usually post much on the weekend but this tidbit from today's Page Six is just too juicy:

IT seems to start snowing inside nightclub bathrooms whenever a teen queen steps inside to "powder her nose" these days. Our spys at Avalon in L.A. say that one very famous underage starlet, who regularly gets soused at party promoter Brent Bolthouse's Friday night celebfest, was snorting disco dust in the bathroom before she was cut off from ordering any more drinks from the club's staff. Meanwhile, here in New York, another teen star — this one with a squeaky-clean image — was doing her best anteater impression inside the bathroom at P.M.

Many of KTB's friends and associates frequently powder their noses, pack their beaks, scoop up, gag up, rip gaggers, hit the packy, roll big, fat chubbies and get dirty. While KTB doesn't (?) approve of this, KTB does enjoy the site of gagged up friends unable to speak and shaking like dervishes. Tooooo funny.

Now, as for the naughty starlets, KTB would venture and guess on the obvious "L.A. famous, underage starlet" - Lindsay Lohan. We have no basis for this. It's just a guess.

As for the NY based goody goody girl, we find ourselves stumped. Could it be Natalie Portman? We don't think so and we're sure she's not a teen anymore. Duh. Could it be Hillary Duff? Again, we have no idea. Any ideas are welcome.

A friend of ours informs us that a tree fell in Union Square Park last nite injuring an unknown amount of pedestrians. It happened on the east side of the park directly across from the Starbucks in the Zeckendorf Towers.

While he was walking his dog around 10pm, he heard a deafening, crashing sound. It seems a tree does make a sound when it falls. OK, sorry, bad joke in bad taste considering some people got seriously hurt it seems.

My friend called the police while lots of other people ran over to the scene to see if anyone was hurt and needed help. My friend walked over there after a few minutes on the phone with 911 and reports that he saw a woman, covered in blood, laying on the ground. My friend doesn't know if the woman was dead or unconscious but was freaked out nonetheless.

This morning, when we walked thru the Park, we saw lots of sawdust, cut up pieces of timber and a bent railing where the tree must have fallen. We'll be getting some pix hopefully later today. If anyone else has any news on this, please send any and all info.

My liver feels like it's been shredded with a cheese grater. It's not even funny. My houseguest is forcing me to drink everynite. While I gladly accept this challenge, the treatment of one's body like a dumpster is starting to take it's toll.

This from an anonymous reader of our's:

We picked up a bodybuilding magazine off the street the other day and we found this guy Bronan who looks a lot like someone we know. What were we doing looking at bodybuilding mags? That's our business. In fact, they are so similar in looks it's scary. Supposedly he was pretty popular on the bodybuilding circuit, maybe it was the use of martial art weapons.

Is it the Weekly World News or is it the Drudge Report? Is there even a difference anymore?

This may be his bestest story ever.

Another intriguing question from the gossip hounds of Page Six:

WHICH celebutante has been caught snorting disco dust inside the ladies' rooms of more than one trendy Meatpacking District nightclub? So far, no one has turned her in.

As for the Post's question, hmmmm. Celebutante? Beakpacking District? Work with us people. That's just too broad a range given that everyone's a celebutante for 15 minutes today.

Reuters - Google is expected to give an indication of how much it expects bidders to pay for its shares in an updated initial public offering filing as soon as this week. Mountain View, Calif.-based Google is aiming to raise $2.7 billion in a Dutch auction, which would set a share price based on bids submitted by potential investors. The IPO is expected to value Google at upward of $30 billion, although other analysts are valuing Google as high as $50 billion. Google in a June filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission estimated its expected share value at $88.13, but some potential bidders are already worrying whether overzealous investors might bid up the stock's value to a point where the share price no longer provides a meaningful reflection of the company's value.

That and the fact that Google will be a NASDAQ based stock should make for some interesting speculation when it finally decides to start trading.

KTB loves practical jokes. This one takes the cake:

We really wanted to hear David Robertson conduct and Leonidas Kavakos' violin tonight in Central Park. We got there at 5:30 to the Great Lawn and scored a nice spot on the ballfield. It was a perfect evening of wine and good weather. However, at 8:00, this posse of stupid people showed up. The 12 of them proceeded to make the sounds of Ives, Barber and Adams act as the background music for their chatter about jobs in publishing and "media buys" and the Hamptons. This went on for 2+ hours and really took away from the music. So when the Grucci fireworks were over, we quietly rolled up our blanket, careful to snag a lone shoe. At least one bitch would hobble out of the park tonight.

Mental note One - first thing you want to do after receiving a mound of silly putty impaled in your chest is go shopping with your bestest friend.

Mental note Two - make sure you show off your new silly putty to the world. Nothing screams "I'm every woman" like basketballs on a hockey stick.

More pix at awfulplasticsurgery.com.

[Thanks to our devotated reader skillary for being bored at "work"]

Found in today's etcetera jobs section:

OK guys, I will be driving in from long island with my girlfriend on
friday evening at about 6pm. We will be dining at one of manhattans best
locatedon the Upper East Side. All I need for you to do is sit there for about an hr and a half and watch my truck. Bring a milkcrate, chair, whatever, I dont care. All I need you to do is watch my truck. Although its a nice area, there are the occasional local vagrants, hoodlems, who walk by. Under no circumstances are you permitted to touch my baby, just sit there and watch it. I dont even care if you talk on the cell phone, read a magazine, whatever.(Easy
enough, right?) The last schmuck I hired ended up getting fingerprints on my
babys windows. Email if you are available friday evening at about 6:00pm, we can exchange cell phone numbers and I can dispatch you to the location when I
arrive. You will be required to open the passenger door for her once I have
parked. This is a special evening for me, as I plan to propose to my girlfriend. Do not reply If you can not handle this simple task. Wear basically
whatever you want (within reason). You will be paid in cash upon our return from
dinner. Assuming you don't screw up, we should have some leftovers which
you are welcome to.
DO NOT reply to this ad if you are on drugs,
serious
inquiries only.

Bored, mindless, monotony. Is this what work makes you feel like?

Kill time with this proven mind numbing game. Our high score is 21,105.

Those crazy Swiss. What will they think of next? Sort of reminds us of the crappers in Bar 89.
[Thanks Deebo]

In other news, this is just horrific. We may think twice about drinking too much again. Maybe not.
[via drudge]

And finally, if ever we had a reservation about posting a pic here, the one beneath would be it. Definitely not safe for work.

Click it for a close up but be warned, it ain't pretty. The story is here.
[Thanks Torres]

Pix of Britney's for sale condo are up on Corcoran's website. We were expecting to see something different than the photo above. Where are all the discarded McD's wrappers?
[via curbed]

Who: Parker Posey
Where: Union Square Dog Run
When: Last week (Thursday possibly???)
Why are we writing about it now: We're sober now

How did she look: For lack of a better word, uggggh. We're sorry. Being nice is not our forte. We actually had a big crush on her after Waiting for Guffman and Best in Show. The crush has now been crushed.

What was she wearing: A two size too big sundress. Almost as if she was hiding the onset of a first trimester. Her hair was not done up anything special, just tied loosely behind her head. Makeup? What's makeup? She wasn't wearing any as she was au natural. Very Haight-Ashbury baby.

What kind of dog did she have: A white little thing. We're no kennel master here but it may have been one of them lassa apsa (I know, it's most likely spelled incorrectly) whatchemacallits.

Who was she with: Besides the hound, Mr. Urban Cowboy himself. Donning well worn Frye motorcycle booties, aged jeans and a checkered rodeo shirt, one had to wonder if he just got out of Cheap Jack's or a Jersey City garage sale. We bet on the latter.

Since when is New York the new Seattle?

We asked what gobsmacked meant?
The New York Times answers that today.
[Thanks Rob]

When we found this site, supposedly belonging to Elisabeth KC, fond memories of 271 ******* Street came surging back. Those were good times my friends. Those were some good times...

KTB is proud to add the following blogs to our blog roll

A Socialite's Life
Banterist
Manhattan Transfer

Today's Page Six asks a rather befuddling question:

WHICH hard-partying funnyman was cut from his latest production because he was more interested in snorting lines than learning them?

Tabby hit new lows last nite as he tried the following pickup lines on the plethora of females hanging at that bastion of all things hip - the rooftop bar at the Gansevoort Hotel. Because his lines were so appalling (even to us), I've had to **** out several words. You can fill in the blanks yourselves.

As he approached a group of 4 women sitting down, he said

Do you guys remember the TV show The Jetsons? Remember all the ***** people on it? The future looks bright huh?

What's the difference between a *** and a canoe? A canoe tips!

The women cringed and attacked his non P.C. humour. We just watched as if we were driving past a car accident.

Anyway, it's Friday. We have done more damage than usual to our liver this week. We feel the need to vomit right now too. Did we mention it was Friday?

This story was told to us by Tabby earlier today. We cannot verify its authenticity but it makes for interesting reading:

Dude, I was out last nite, drinking it up. Getting my shit on. No joke. Met some chick. Hotty. Little older than me but I don't give a fuck.

So we start talking and shit and she asks me if I have any dirt. Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck. How often do I go out and not have any gak? (Ed. Note - We threw in the word "gak" here instead of what Tabby used - blow) She's drunk and jonesing and I'm drunk and jonesing and I'm a big fucking pussy.

So I gotta think on my feet here. WTF do I do?

I did what any other straight up nigga would do (Ed. Note - Yes he used those exact words). 'Yeah, I got some gak. But it's back at my place. We gotta go back there' I lie.

She's game. In fact, she's more than game. She grabs my hand, pulls me close and I don't hold back. We start going at it right there at the bar.

Next thing you know, we're in a cab. Going back to my place and I fucking swear, the bitch loves me. She's licking my ear, rubbing me all over. I'm psyched but I'm also sweating the fact that I'm completely dry at home. I got nothing there besides a few Heinekens and a half empty bottle of Jack. Fuck me I'm thinking. What am I gonna give this bitch? I don't want to kill her with some baking soda or shit but what else can I do? (Ed. Note - Did we mention how much we love Tabby?)

We get back to my place. The doorman kicks me a snide little smile. He's seen this before but he has no idea what I got on my hands tonight. Up the elevator and into my apartment, we find ourselves making out on the couch. At this point I'm thinking this bitch may really like me for me. I'm a good looking guy. I got a nice watch and shit and a decent pad. And I'm wearing Versace (Ed. Note - Yes, he really said Versace). And I go with this feeling and make my move. My hand finds its way under her skirt but is quickly arrested.

'You think we can powder up now' she asks although she's not really asking. There's no question mark at the end of that sentence. She's saying it with the authority of the entire vaginal lineage. I'm at a loss here.

'Ok, I'm gonna call my guy right now. He's really fast and I'm a great customer. We can have it probably in under thirty minutes if not faster.' That's it. That was my lame ass excuse, my pathetic rotten bait. I cast it out. Will she bite?

'Thirty minutes?' Now it's a question. 'I thought you had it here. How long will it really take? Call your guy. But that's fucked up. You said you had it.' She's hesitant.

'I did have it' I offer and I show her what remains of my last gagger session - a dirty black plate and a rolled up bill. It's not lying far from the couch. The plate is dirty and the remains of some sort of dirt are visible. She's not turned on.

'But I finished it all up before I went out' I plead. 'I'll call the guy now. I'm telling you, 30 minutes tops.'

'Fine. Call. Just call.' The smile on her face is long gone now. It's been replaced by a weary tired look. Something tells me she's probably been in this situation before.

I get on the phone. My house phone. And I dial a number. Only I'm not dialing shit. I'm just hitting buttons. Any buttons with a number on them, I'm tapping them. As long as the magical beep sound is heard by the hoebag on my couch, I'm a satisfied customer. I don't know how many buttons I punched. I could have been calling Russia here. Finally I put the phone to my ear and began my monologue.

'Yo, it's me, MichaelJordan2307' I offer up my code. She smiles now. The bitch is smiling. I got a drug dealer verified password and she heard it and her spirits are back up again.

'How long will it take? I need some invites here.'

'20 to 30 minutes? Fine, come on over.'

'Sweet. See you soon.'

My heart is beating. I'm speaking to a dead signal here. In my head, I sound like a lying douche. I am a lying douche. Question is, does she realize?

I click one last button - END. The phone beeps dead. I'm looking at her and she at me. I'm awaiting her reaction. Body language you know? (Ed. Note - We do. Oh yes we do baby.) And she lights back up again. I'm her fucking pablo escobar here.

She beams a smile my way, opens her arms and I'm in baby. I'm fucking in.

The clothes come off. I'm on top first. Then she's on top. Then I'm on sideways, leftways, anywhich way, I'm fucking in dude. Rocking her world. She's rocking mine and then I'm done. Finished. Finito. See you later alligator.

I dismount and put some clothes back on. Any shred of respect I had is gone. Both for me and for her. My job here is finished but she's still at my place. What to do? What to do?

I put on my stereo. Biggie Smalls is in the cd tray. I offer her a drink. She accepts. There aren't many choices so I pour us both a drink of Jack and water.

I look at my clock. It's 1AM. Not terribly late but it's that time of night when time slows to a crawl. Tick tock, tick tock. I can hear the digital timepiece emanating ticks and tocks. So can she I think.

The thirty minutes have pretty much expired at this point.

'What do you think' Again, it's not a question so much as it means - Call your fucking dealer and call him now.

I get back on the phone. I dial a number. Any number. Only this time, there's no answer on the other line I tell her. I calm her fears and say he's probably on the other line and right around the corner. She's not amused.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. How do I get myself into this shit I wonder.

It's now 2AM. I'm not happy. I'm telling her jokes. Telling her about my travels to Costa Rica. This just makes her angry.

'This was supposed to take 20 minutes. What the fuck is this? I hope you're not lying to me.' Is she pissed? Does the Mona Lisa smile? Yeah she's really pissed now and I just want to go to bed.

I try the phone again. And again I pretend there's no answer.

'Here,' I bluff, 'take the phone. Listen for yourself. He ain't picking up. This is totally not like him. He's my best dealer. I don't know what to tell you. I'm the one that feels like a complete dick here' I meakly offer this up.

Now she's drunk, pissed, jonesing beyond belief and she's just been fucked. Put yourself in her shoes. You wouldn't be a happy camper either.

So dude, to make a long story short, we waited around another hour. She wouldn't fucking leave and I "tried" calling Timmy again. There never was an answer. Hehehehe.

Finally and I mean finally, the bitch got up, didn't say shit, put the rest of her clothes on and walked the fuck out. There was no goodbye. There was no good night kiss. Just like that. In and out. Who's the man?

One has to love the Brit press when they concoct stories like this:

TROUBLED Britney Spears sinks to a new low -- swigging whisky and Red Bull and scoffing junk food in the street with her love-rat fiance.

The once-glamorous pop princess, 22, looked a slob as she drifted from one low-budget store to another for lunch with jobless dancer Kevin Federline.

Many more pix of Brit and her jobless boytoy shopping for groceries here.

Belgian model, Ingrid Parewijck, 25, was busted at JFK Airport on Saturday evening with three plastic baggies of dirt. Oh, we mean cocaine. We forgot that it's not only our scumbag friends who subscribe to our daily readership. Ingrid arrived on an AirFrance flight from Paris and was thusly interrogated for arriving on a flight from Paris. The dirty stuff must have been discovered by default.

Models and dirt go hand in hand like apples and strudel. It is difficult to picture one without consequently picturing the other. Then again, many of KTB's associates are quite little dirt hounds themselves. Just this past weekend, KTB was introduced to new dirt terminology that we found loveable. We were in a men's room using said facilities and we discovered a friend in the nearby stall.

"Are you packing your beak?" we enquired.
"Nah. Got no gak" came the reply over the wall separating us.

Gak, we thought. What a lovely, affectionate term.

Gak. I'm gakking up. Got any gak? Yo, you know where we can get some gak? We may be falling in love here.

For more on the broken, beak packing model, read the full story at the NY Post.

Contrary to popular opinion, we're not rabbits here at KTB. We do enjoy an occasional aged NY strip steak topped with goose fat potatoes and drowned with pints of Budweiser. Ahhhhh. So yummy.

But tonight, we swayed from our carnivorous ways and indulged in the finest that the local vegan community has to offer. Our destination - Pure Food and Wine located at 54 Irving Pl.

The fare did not dissapoint. As much as we jest when passing by a vegan or vegatarian restuarant (yeah we're in PETA - People Eating Tasty Animals - we're killing ourselves here) the food at Pure Food was just excellent.

We started with the Spicy Thai Lettuce Wraps stuffed with mango, napa cabbage, cashews, ginger and topped with a tamarind chilli sauce. Holy fucksakes, it was good. Unlike the lettuce wraps at Mr. Chow's which use crispy iceberg lettuce, the wraps at Pure Food were of a softer, gentler lettuce variety. We devoured them with barely a chew. Yeah, yeah, yeah, we're trying to stop swallowing our food here. Thanks Mom!

Our apps were followed by Zucchini & Green Zebra Tomato Lasagne with Basil-Pistachio Pesto while our companion, Mr. Black Cloud himself, had the Wild Asparagus & Porcini Ravioli with Lemon Cream. It goes without saying that while Mr. Cloud's entree was fine and edible, our entree was truly vegetarian gold. We could not get over the fact that raw non-animal food could taste so damn good.

Also of interest was the male to female ratio at Pure Food. We counted at least 6 females to every male eating there. We can only imagine the scene when the weather is nice and the backyard garden is inviting of the masses. We think we may have found our local neighborhood eatery for the time being.

Needless to say, while we pen this post, we are pleasantly buzzed having singlehandedly killed off a bottle of sake at Pure Food. It was a big bottle. We love liquor here at KTB almost as much as we love food. Let me rephrase - food is great, liquor is greater.

For more on Pure Food & Wine, visit their citysearch listing or see their menu over at menupages.com.

Internet search giant Google announced that it plans to list it's shares on the NASDAQ stock exchange. This came as a shock to the New York Stock Exchange which lobbied hard for Google's listing rights.

Shock???? I'm wondering why the NYSE is shocked by this decision. Let's see, the NYSE which trades equities based on the specialist system, is known amongst traders as being the single worst marketplace in use today. Sure, you may think it's glamorous to trade the likes of Goldman Sachs, IBM and Genentech, but I'm going to fill you in on a little secret - IT'S NOT. The NYSE is the most inefficient exchange out there in America today. Is this a bold statement? Hardly.

The NYSE uses individuals known as specialists to make markets in their respective stocks. The specialist is given buy and sell orders from floor brokers and he decides where the fair price of a stock belongs. Ideally, it sounds like a decent system. But this system fails miserably at providing adequate liquidity especially in fast moving markets. Now here at KTB, we're no George Soros. Actually, we loathe the likes of limousine liberals like George Soros but that's a tale for another day. But anyway, when we find ourselves trading NYSE stocks, even with our meager share allotments, we find it EXTREMELY difficult to exit a losing position without much slippage (slippage - going to buy a stock at let's say $75/share but actually being filled by the specialist at $76/share). Does this happen often? Yes, indeed it does and it happens much too often. Specialists are known to pull every bid out of a stock dropping share prices by dollars in some situations so as to give their best customers preferred executions at much lower prices. Fuck the specialists and their corrupt inefficient system. We envision a day when specialists will be blacklisted from working normal jobs once electronic trading deems their hobby obsolete.

KTB laudes Google's decision to list on the NASDAQ. Go Google.

Quotes from what is surely going to be Time Magazine's Interview of the Year:

"Even though she'd made it big, she still came back to Kentwood. We'd kissed but that's as far as it had gone."

"Then, last Christmas Eve she came up to my place and asked if I wanted to go to Las Vegas for the New Year with some of her friends." I said yes.

"We knew what was going to happen," he said. "Britney started stripping off her clothes as she walked into the suite. Then we started kissing."

"We started off in the bedroom kissing. She was good at that—she was good at everything. She was an animal in bed."

"We were both hot so I led her into the bathroom. There was a huge shower head that sent water down on to us as though it was rain. We stripped off competely and got into the shower and Britney performed oral sex on me as the water ran down over both of us."

"Afterwards I led her back into the bedroom. At first she was on top of me and then I was on top. We did it every way you could. But it wasn't cheap. I really cared about her and it felt right."(Editor's Note: LO-fucking-L. Good grief...)

"At times she was noisy. She didn't call me any names, she just moaned. We didn't use any precautions either."

"I woke up and was really aroused again," said Jason. "Britney was asleep but when I tried it on with her she didn't hold back. She said she wanted to be with me and I told her I wanted to be with her."

"When she got back I was in the bath," he said. "She came in, stripped off and got into the tub with me. First we were scrubbing each other. Then she got on top of me and we had sex. She was a natural, with the most fantastic a*** I've ever felt. She was proud of her body and she often just wandered around with nothing on."

"The sex was mind-blowing and rough. We did it in every position you could think of. It was so wild we managed to fall off the bed together."

...

Later on, they found themselves at the altar.

"Britney and I giggled our heads off. We got the certificate and rushed back to the chapel. I paid the 700 dollars for the best package they could do. Britney picked it. We had flowers, video, a photographer, a pianist and a registrar. I said she should walk down the aisle on her own but Britney wanted to be traditional and so she asked the limo driver if he'd do the honour.

"I think he was a bit gobsmacked, but he did it.

I remember her walking towards me and we looked into each other's eyes. We knew there was something special between us. As we said our vows we held hands, it meant a lot to both of us.

"The registrar said I could kiss the bride and it was the most special kiss of my life.

"She kept saying how happy she was but when we got back to the room her friends didn't congratulate us, they just looked shocked."

The whole interview is here.
[via defamer]

Yes, I've been a real bookworm lately. In the past two weeks, I've read The Final Frontiersman: Heimo Korth and His Family, Alone in Alaska's Arctic Wilderness by James Campbell and Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith by Jon Krakauer.

The Final Frontiersman is briefly reviewed below. As for Under the Banner of Heaven, I just put the book down yesterday. It was an amazing read. Basically, it was about the Mormon religion and it's various offshoot fundamental sects. In as much as it was an indicment of Mormonism (especially the fundamental kind) and it's violent and subservient characteristics, the book was also a general attack on all organized religion, be it Judaism, Islam, Christianity or Mormonism.

The book tells the story of the founder of the Mormom church, Joseph Smith, his occupation before he was a "Prophet" (he was a modern day fortuneteller convicted of lying and cheating his clientele), his founding of the Church by receiving visits from an Angel named Moroni (I'm not making this shit up) and the eventual settlement of first Missouri, then Illinois and finally Utah.

The book weaves the history of the Mormon church by leading the reader on a journey from the founding of the Church into modern times. Polygamy is obviously one of the biggest issues the book deals with. Joseph Smith was said to have received one of his messages from God giving the big a-ok to the plurality of marriage but the Mormon church did away with polygamy (so they said) at the end of the 19th century thus succumbing to popular and political pressure.

In his review of the modern church, Krakauer focuses on the Laffery family - a once famous (now infamous) Mormon family. Two of the Laffery brothers (Ron and Dan) killed a sister in law of theirs along with her baby in 1984. Why did they do it? Because Ron got a message from God (the Removal Covenant) giving him the go ahead. As sick as the crime was, these two evil fucks to this day don't feel an ounce of remorse for their cowardly crime.

Without giving more of the story away, Krakauer's writing is pinpoint, electric and enthralling. If you already have a problem with organized religion (much like KTB does), this book is definitely the read for you. If on the other hand you are a student (sucker) of religion, this book will hopefully open your eyes.

Don't you hate it when people send you these kinds of links?
NSFW - GRAPHIC
[no thanks to BC]

Real? Real expensive!

I spent the weekend of July 9 - 11, 2004 visiting McCord at his beautiful beach house in Eastern Long Island. McCord planned an elaborate surprise 30th birthday party for his girlfriend Krisha (I hope I'm spelling it right - hereafter I'll just refer to her as "K"). McCord went all out by hiring a local DJ, bartender and catering services. The DJ was good but a few songs seemed to be played more often than others. As if the repeat button was used one time too many. Or maybe I was just too drunk to notice. Well, not too drunk but moderately buzzed.

More of the story and much more pictures here.

We don't know how, we don't know why, but we do know we found ourselves mixed up with soon to be retired thirtysomething Wall Street darlings somewhere on the rooftop of the Gansevoort Hotel last nite. The Gansevoort, located in the heart of what was once a meat packing district (now it's a different kind of "meat" they're packing over there), is one of the new chique (yes chique and not chic) boutique hotels to spring up in the city drawing the "oh-such-a-hip-to-do" crowd. Remarkably, the "oh-such-a-hip-to-do" crowd has been infiltrated by musclemen and Kangol hat sporting B&Ters. Oh the horror.

Besides the fashionably retarded PATH commuters, we happened to observe an uknown to us trend in women's wear: GREEN. The color green. It was everywhere. Blouses, skirts, dresses, swatches, watches, brassieres, you name it, it was green. We happen to think that we're up on recent styles and trends, especially in the female population which we adore so much, but this one really caught us by surprise. Have we been hibernating in a cave or is green really the new black? Somebody please help us.

That's pretty much all I can muster writing right now. In fact, the urge to vomit all over myself is suddenly foreseeable however unappealing. This hangover hovers like the Black Cloud over a successful trader. It just won't go away until I'm battered and broke.

Have a good weekend everyone.

Well it was bound to happen sooner or later. KTB's fragile network of servers, strung together by band-aids from the 90's, finally hit that precipitous bump in the road and veered off course thus crashing our little server.

We're back on for now but at tops 50% capacity. Even the slightest provocation my derail us yet again. We're being extra gentle here.

We hope to have a new drive in the server on Wednesday and posting should resume at its normal vacuousy then.

We're back from our jaunt out East. The Hamptons you assume? You assume incorrectly! Montauk was this weekend's destination and Montauk didn't dissapoint. Despite being a solid hour past the Tavern, the drive was well worth it.

Montauk is another world unto itself. We witnessed a fisherman returning from an overnight trip to the Canyons. He had with him a 175 lb. blue fin tuna and an equally sized mako shark. What a site it was and it happened to be one of the few times I hadn't taken my camera with me. Mako steaks look remarkably like swordfish. In fact, I assumed it was swordfish until I noticed the dorsal fin of the dead fish. As for the tuna, it was the maroonest tinge of red. How I silently prayed for some Kirroman soy sauce (not the low sodium crap either) and some wasabi. A Sapporo wouldn't have been bad either.

We spent some good time with our out East guide Pepe Fairchild as well. You'll be hearing alot more about Pepe soon. Very soon in fact. Pepe took us to his favorite local haunts and made us promise to not reveal them to the NYC readership at large. Sorry. Pepe hates when we NYC fools invade his home turf.

We also got a chance to finish reading "The Final Frontiersman: Heimo Korth and His Family, Alone in Alaska's Arctic Wilderness" by James Campbell. What an amazing, can't put down, book. It's been a while since I've read such a captivating all engrossing work and I highly recommend it to everyone. The book is about Alaska's last living legend Heimo Korth and how he's spent the last three decades living in the Alaskan bush. With temperatures dipping to 50 below, Heimo discusses a life where a tiny misjudgement makes the difference between life and death. Get the book and read it. Thank me later.

We have much catching up to do. Posting should resume to full throttle over the course of the next day or so.

Posting will cease as we decamp the city for the next 100 hours or so. If you're staying in the city for the long weekend (don't worry, doormen and cabbies have to stay too), may we suggest checking out the blah blah blah fireworks blah blah fiesta. We bid ye farewell.