Kreepie Kats in "The Pope Wants to Hump Your Face" [Kreepie Kats]

[Hey, Jim Behrle's lovable kartoon kitties are holding a kontest! It's called the "Have Sex with the Kreepie Kats Guy Tonite Kontest" and the details are after the jump.]

New York 'Post' Finally Launches Inevitable Gawker Clone [New Blog Smell]

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.The New York Post killed poor PageSix.com after something like ten internet minutes, but now we just discovered this weird new blog they have (we know it's new because it has a big NEW BLOG sticker on it) called, uh, POPWRAP. The internet is running out of names for things that are obvious clones of five other things! Anyway, if PageSix.com was their TMZ-killer, this is their scaled-back Gawker/Daily Intelligencer/maybe-Best Week Ever-copier. The whole damn thing is edited solely by one guy (like us, back in the golden era!)—former InTouch "lifestyle editor" Jarett Wieselman (ten posts today, Jarett—you can get it up to 12 by Monday!). Oh, wait, we remember that name! Wieselman was brought over from InTouch with Kathy Campbell to run PageSix.com. And then that imploded and now they've given him this. Anyway we didn't read very many of the "words" but the pictures look pretty and the headlines are suitably sarcastic-ish. Also there is a caption contest feature because bloggers are for some reason never happy with the captions photos come with. (So far: one comment on this one. Go help 'em out!) Now you have one more source for mildly irreverent takes on celebrity news. [POPWRAP]

"We're Trying to Plan It So We Are Pregnant Together" [Glaring Omissions]

We're bringing Glaring Omissions back! We get so many missives each week, that some things slip through the cracks by accident or completely on purpose. Today we have three little bits for you (just gaining momentum, I swears). Shotguns, marriages, and a Real Housewife await you after the jump.

Caught Between A Rock And A Dumb Place [Quick Rant]

Go Elis! Only not. In the past ten days, we've had larceny charges against an aspiring Galie and pseudo abortion, pseudo art project from senior Aliza Shvarts. It's enough to make Harvard appealing. But on a beautiful spring day like this, when faux controversies surround art and reproductive rights, we do sort of miss college. Where else could a debate over Shvarts's "art" not immediately conclude with, "she's a savvy media whore who is willing sell her name, body and college intuitions for publicity." It's nearly impossible to pick the most offensive aspect of this little project. That Shvartz maybe lied to create publicity, that maybe Yale lied to protect itself from a student, or what she actually claimed to do, which is to induce miscarriages to get people "to think." It's like we're caught between a world of The Hills and Abortion Art. Can't there be a happy medium, like Top Chef?

"They Gave Me a Crippled Gay News Anchor" [The Commies]

As some of us tear down the institution from within, others continue to build it up from without. I am speaking of you, dear commenters, who may bicker and snipe but in the end mostly say funny things that make us happy. So, as we mourn the faithful departed, let us also celebrate some of those who linger on. After the jump, find six of the week's best efforts.

From Bos'un's Mate in Worst Vogue Cover Since the Last One:

[Pareene's Pick]

Your Party Pick this week went to Conbon for his work in Marc Jacobs' New Boy Fends Off Unwanted MySpace Buddies:

"He refers to Franklin as 'F Town?' God, I wish he were from Bellows Falls, Vermont.

Because, well, I'll let you figure it out."

Good work everybody.

40-Pound Beaver Is Rescued From East River [Breaking]

We can't actually improve on that headline. Kudos, City Room. But yes, a giant beaver was pulled to safety this afternoon by NYPD scuba units, who "were patrolling the United Nations in connection with the visit of Pope Benedict XVI and said the beaver appeared to be struggling to swim." Also: "It was not known if the beaver was male or female. ('It has pretty big claws,' Lieutenant Harkins said.)" [NYT]

The Astoundingly Good Case For Making A Ziggy Movie [Ziggy]

"I see this as a summer tentpole movie, definitely." I'm laughing so hard it's coming out as a panting horse noise, because I just listened to this rapid-fire pitch for a Ziggy movie. There's everything: Why Wallace Shawn is the ideal actor for the role, how Ziggy could be the nature side of man vs. nature, why it should be live action instead of CGI, the role of the parrot as god, possible set pieces, the teaser trailer starting at the complaints department, the bonus scene after the credits. If you are still in your chair by the end of this routine, you are soulless.

Why Don't You Know Me? [Gawker Stalker]

If Axl Rose walks through Manhattan and nobody recognizes him, should he be so pissed off about it?

"

Saw Axl Rose today outside of the Muse hotel on 46 St b/w 6th and 7th in NYC. I was crossing the street staring right at him. I had no clue it was him. He was staring at me as I was crossing the street walking toward him with this "I can't believe you are about my age (or younger) and don't know who the f*** I am!" kind of look. Then, 10 minutes later, on my return, in front of that same hotel I over heard this "security/driver guy" explaining to two young girls that yes, they did in fact see Slash. It was at this moment that I realized I saw Axl.

Send your sightings to stalker@gawker.com for our handy dandy map.

One Minor Flaw In Chris Hitchens' Sexiness [Writers]

If you've been harboring fantasies of sleeping with portly British provocateur Christopher Hitchens, hold on just a minute: he snores. It's hardly his biggest personal flaw (educated guess), but he does manage to crank out thousands of words on his snoring affliction for Men's Vogue, as part of his ongoing quest to pre-empt any and all criticisms of himself so that he can continue to talk bad about whatever he likes in peace. Here, his long-suffering (educated guess, again) wife describes the experience of a Hitchens family slumber:

"What's it like?" I asked her when I decided to face up and write this essay. "Well," she said as if she had had plenty of time to think about it. "It's a sort of one-man symphony orchestra. It ranges from a whistling bird to the sound of big boulders falling down a ravine. There's a chain saw in there somewhere. And a sniveling child making those noises that children make when they've just stopped crying: a sort of honk. A lot of the time it's in 4/4 or 6/8 regular time, but the worst is when it turns arrhythmic and cacophonous. And then sometimes it's just old-fashioned snoring, like Popeye or Homer Simpson."