Our New Yorker arrived late, so

forgive us if took us a week to

appreciate Ken Auletta's chief

insight regarding MicroKinsley:

it's the pants! In the uncertain

business of online publishing,

one risks losing not just your

shirt, but your drawers, as well.

And, as Auletta tirelessly reports,

Kinsley is ready to risk his

L.L. Bean chinos on Slate.

Auletta's unnatural fixation on

Kinsley's casual wear belies his

assertion that "[t]he relevant

question about Kinsley... is

not sartorial; it is whether the

electronic magazine he is

conceiving will be real."

Indeed, a source close to

Kinsley told Suck that "Slate"

was actually selected because it

was one of Kinsley's favorite

colors for slacks in the Land's

End and Orvis catalogs.

Slate or Olive, let's face it -

any man who'd leave the East for

Seattle and dare to wear chinos

is obviously a Belt-less

contrarian worthy of a feature

story. Some have suggested a

better feature might have focused

on a webzine already publishing,

but these critics are clearly

missing the point. When Auletta

mentions Kinsley's khakis for

the fourth time, he can't hint

any louder: Kinsley never

recovered from fellow New

Republic Editor Andrew

Sullivan's Gap ad and clearly

wants one of his own. So he's

making a fair trade: by validating

Microsoft's move into the

Content Gap, he's one step

closer to what he always wanted:

"Michael Kinsley wore Khakis."

Janeane Garofalo has an

impeccable "alternative"

pedigree as the GenX Rosie

O'Donnell. She's been a

correspondent for TV Nation and

a staple on both the Larry

Sanders and Ben Stiller shows.

That brat from Squirt TV

interviewed her for Bikini,

natch. And, judging by an

unofficial home page set up by

her self-proclaimed Official

Stalker, we can guarantee that

if you love Urge Overkill and

Liz Phair, think Grand Royal is

a real zine, and have ever even

momentarily entertained the idea

that smoking heroin might be

cool, then you surely love

Janeane. If she did not exist,

the net would invent her, and

don't think she's not jaded

about the kind of niche

marketing she personifies -

c'mon, Janeane, why fight it?

Follow these links to their

inevitable endpoint - marry

Quentin Tarantino, name your

first-born "Otis" - boy OR girl -

and set up your own multimedia

entertainment empire in an

abandoned Detroit Factory. 'Kay?

Despite the copious options

available to the contemporary

consumer, satisfaction is still

as elusive as it was back in

'65. Imagine how startled we

were, then, to conclude that

McDonald's newest taste treat,

The Arch Deluxe, was far more

than a McDonic Ideal of the fast

food burger - for us, it was a

beefy validation of free market

capitalism. Like a gift from

McGod conferred upon the

digestive systems of portly

truckers, famished fast-trackers,

and innocent E. Coli bacteria,

the Deluxe - a reengineered

version of the McDLT - offered

conclusive evidence that not all

2.0's suck. Given all that, it's

hard to understand why the

McDonald's Corporation is

pushing so hard to spotlight

Ronald's considerable skills in

the fields of tournament golf,

pool-hall hustling, and hip

bootie-shaking, when a simple

narrative charting his education

as the world's most celebrated

gourmet chef would have said it

all.

For a while, it seemed so cool to

have given up a grad school

fellowship for a career in

softcore porn - hey, David

Duchovny did it. But according

to the folks at Ready.to.Ware,

the era of unregulated cultural

criticism is over - for "who can

help us understand ourselves

better than those who have been

professionally trained to

interpret American culture."

After all, "the importance of

culture in American life has

become clear." While we've gone

on record before in favor of an

application for poetic license,

let's hope we get grandfathered

in should anyone try to

legislate such regulation.