NAUGHTY
Jonathan Safran Foer (The Herbivorious)
The wire-rimmed glasses. The prim scarves. The precious Park Slope brownstone with a floor each for his wife and two kids. Even before JSF published Eating Animals, his 2009 smug book about vegetarianism, The Guardian had coined a term for hatred of the young, rich and successful literary star: Schadenfoer. It’s just not fair. Why didn’t our senior theses earn us $1.2 million advances instead of clogging our hard drives? Foer earns his spot on the list this year for his very public anti-meat stance, which did the unthinkable and made him that much more intolerable.
Si Newhouse (The Media Titanic)
Yes, print media is ailing. But worse than falling advertising revenue and mass layoffs of tightsweatered receptionists is the notion that anybody should live the way that the creeps who work for Condé Nast do. No shit, that after years of car services, platinum-plated expense accounts and clothing allowances, things are going down the tubes. Hey Si, you shouldn’t need McKinsey analysts to tell you that buying houses for editors and giving assistants $15 for lunch each day isn’t the way to run a company—the firings and mag shutterings you’ve seen this year are proof. Even worse than all that, old man, you’ve created a large pool of talented, hungry men and women scouring the terrain for the next place where they can hang their hat and make a name for themselves in print. Thanks for that.
Lisa Phillips (Curatorial Conspirer)
Museum directors have made unusual decisions and had dubious intentions for generations (for proof, just read Michael Gross’ riveting Rogues’ Gallery about the origins of the Metropolitan Museum), and in recent years we’ve had some outsized egos and grand worldwide expansion plans (remember the Guggenheim franchises?) cooked up by head honchos. As the director of the New Museum, Lisa Phillips is tasked with making the bastion of contemporary art relevant to new audiences. She did so by choosing a site on Bowery for a flashy new museum and putting highly skilled curators in chief jobs. But when the museum announced this year that it would exhibit a show from trustee Dakis Joannou’s private collection, the art snipers were outraged and The Brooklyn Rail commissioned a piece by artist William Powhida that skewered this faction of art-world insiders. Was Phillips wrong for wanting to showcase an incredible collection? Probably not. But the museum’s mission to advance emerging art seemed to be sidestepped. And more references were exhumed as to how New Museum founder Marcia Tucker must be rolling in her grave.
Janette Sadik-Khan (The Hubrisaurus)
Last year we applauded the Department of Transportation Commissioner for her incredible efforts to make the city safe and accessible for bicyclists and pedestrians. Her ballsy attitude to act first and ask for forgiveness rather than permission, made us proud (and a little ashamed that we haven’t expected crusaders to emerge amongst our government bureaucracies before). But with any exercise in power, there comes a time for a reckoning. While we still marvel at the bike lane that snakes down Broadway from Central Park to Union Square, we’re not convinced about the hyper-tourist-friendly approach in Times Square nor the weird decisions in Lower Manhattan that have only created more traffic (and more pissed-off Chinese ladies). Please, oh guru of good sense, please don’t let the power to put your stamp on the city’s streets be your downfall.
Jane Kramer (The Hautest) 
A staff writer at The New Yorker since 1964, Jane Kramer is best known for writing the “Letter from Europe” feature for the mag, covering culture and politics in a generally inoffensive way. In the weekly’s Nov. 23 issue, however, she went too far. Her waytoo-long story “Pilgrim’s Progress” regaled readers with tales of Kramer’s obnoxious and haughty Thanksgivings abroad. The crux of the story is one summer Thanksgiving meal in Italy—away from New York and her six-burner stove and double oven—that required Kramer to name-drop her way around the world, coming across every bit an elitist jerk-off who has way too much time and way too high a per-word rate, and end up with a wood-ovenroasted bird in Italy with a bunch of her high and mighty cohorts. We’ll take a Hungry Man and US Weekly over this shit any day.
Helmer Toro (The Big Schmear)
New York’s most famous bagel purveyor, H H Bagels, seemed to be taking an Arthur Anderson approach to its accounting this year. The New York Department of Taxation and Finance shuttered both the West 80th Street and 12th Avenue locations in May because the business allegedly failed to pay $6,803 in withholding tax (the taxes taken out of employees’ paychecks) and $16,482 in sales tax. Both branches quickly reopened, but bagel baron Helmer Toro got in trouble again in November, when Manhattan District Attorney Robert Morgenthau indicted him for tax fraud. The stores continue to operate, and bagel lovers everywhere hope Toro shapes up before he’s shut down.
Nathan Williams and Jared Swilley (The Jerks)
It was September and we were all already bored with fall when Wavves architect Nathan Williams and Black Lips singer Jared Swilley came to blows at Graham Avenue watering hole Daddy’s. But the whole shebang turned out to be more obnoxious than amusing. It’s not that we disapprove of feuding rockers— hell, we’d be in favor of more local band warfare—but the fact that these two out-oftowners took it upon themselves to quarrel in our backyard reeks of déclassé tourism. The fact that Swilley called Williams a “faggot” when there are, in fact, way better slurs to describe him wasn’t lost on us, either. In the future, boys, keep the pissing contests in your own backyards.
Hiram Monserrate (The Girlfriend Grinch)
Queens Senator Hiram Monserrate may have gallantly fought for illegal immigrants’ rights in the past, but this year, he voted against gay marriage and slashed his girlfriend’s face, making him nauseatingly horrible and possibly banned from Christmas for life. The Senator was just sentenced to three years probation and his holiday wish to see girlfriend Karla Giraldo was denied. We can think of somewhere other than a stocking where this guy should have his coal stuffed.
Dominic Carter (The Newscastout)
In a year rife with foul treatment of women, Dominic Carter’s fuckups win the naughty prize. The former NY1 anchorman isn’t the first TV personality to not be who he seems. The wife of the gruff-but-genial face of Inside City Hall accused him of punching and kicking her, only to retract the accusation and blame her bruises on a day laborer…who she can’t seem to remember any identifying details about. Not only that, he was a name-dropping crybaby. The tabloid reports of a year-old domestic violence charge kicked off a dizzying downhill sequence for Carter, who lost his job instantly. Far from defending their old colleague, NY1 peers and bosses got in some parting shots in the press. Shorn of his platform, Carter could only grumble that he was the victim of a takedown. Santa and the judge both say, “Not so fast.” This naughty newscaster was found guilty of a misdemeanor in November.
The Ghost of Merce Cunningham (The Cursed Corpse)
When dance Yoda Merce Cunningham executed his grande mort earlier this year, we all shed a little tear, but now that the great man is gone, his eponymous dance troupe is in a world of trouble. Dancers who were previously in a cushy position are now performing in what is rumored to be an under-funded tour and are going to be left out in the cold when Cunningham’s company disbands in two years leaving his hench mento focus on managing his legacy. While Merce was alive, his hoofers were taken care of, but now that he’s danced off into the sky, sinister members of his Company’s board seem to have no inclination to do the same.
NICE
Diane Savino (Staten Island’s Finest)
As MTV’s Jersey Shore continues to burn the garlic knots of Italian-Americans and Staten Islanders, they should be proud of State Sen. Diane Savino. The brusque Staten Island legislator gave an emotional, honest, acerbically funny defense of same-sex marriage on the Senate floor (on the sanctity of straight marriage, she mentioned FOX’s The Littlest Groom—possibly the first and last time this was referenced during a legislative debate). Savino became an unlikely gay icon when her speech went viral on the Web. As a former labor leader that represents Staten Island’s North Shore and parts of south Brooklyn, Savino’s a refreshing change from the typical Manhattan liberal same-sex marriage boosters.
Pete Shapiro (The Kingpin)
We’re as nostalgic for the Wild West days of Williamsburg as anyone else (The L Café! Kokie’s! Electroclash!), but damn it if sometimes we don’t want a nice place to hang out that doesn’t require leaving the neighborhood. Former Wetlands honcho Shapiro opened Brooklyn Bowl over the summer, bringing highquality bar food, great live music, memorable parties and expensive-but-fun bowling to a onestop shop for neighborhood hijinks, just in time to keep us from moving to Boerum Hill. Now we can be coddled grownups without leaving the North Side.
Lady Gaga (The Poker Faced) 
We thought the songs were catchy, but we didn’t really begin to understand the true beauty of Gaga’s gimmick until she released those videos and then began to appear on live shows—complete with blood and creepy costumes. Of course it’s all a big publicity stunt, but this gal is taking performance art to the masses (and getting away with it).
Rupert Murdoch (The Repugnant Redeemer)
He’s an old-school media baron who props up two local dailies, the New York Post and the Wall Street Journal, in a media landscape increasingly hostile to print. That’s good, but he also enriched Glenn Beck many times over and that makes him nobody’s hero. But for a brief shining instant early this month, Rupert Murdoch spoke up for all of the beleaguered newspaper writers who awoke one day to realize they were now “content providers,” depending on blogs for their relevancy. At a meeting of the Federal Trade Commission, Murdoch blasted sites that, after paying nothing, steal content that reporters have “invested days, weeks or even months on.” That sound is thousands of beleaguered (and bemused) hacks cheering for the man they once despised.
Michael Huynh (The Restless Restaurateur)
Has
any other restaurateur opened so many spots—OBAO, Bia Garten, Mikey’s and a few
new Baogettes—this year? We think not. And as fans of cheap and delicious fare,
we’re happy to see such motivation in a guy who caters to our desires. As the
man himself told the Times
in October, “I’m a gambler—when you’re hot, you have to play more.”
Ashlee Dupree (The Hooker with a Heart)
It’s a call girl recall! Ashlee Dupree has set out to save her reputation and that of other girls along the way. The poster girl for unhappy hookers this month started writing a sex advice column for the New York Post. In her video announcement kicking off the column, the sassy prostie, clad in tortoise-shell glasses and a blazer, says: “Take it from me, someone who could have used a little advice in the past—there’s nothing better than learning from someone else’s experiences.” Who doesn’t love a hooker with a heart of gold?
Courtney Love (The Holiest)
For some time there was something lacking in New York City—and that thing was Courtney Love. While other rock stars roam around galas breathing rarified air and acting like all of that nasty business about sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll was someone else’s doing (we’re looking at you, Lou Reed), Courtney embraces her messy life, whether on Facebook, on Twitter or smoking in the girls room of the Sunshine with a reporter. Now that’s she’s living and working in NYC—she’s playing a New Year’s show at The Standard and recording her new album here—we have a feeling things are going to be a lot more exciting.
Madonna (The Preservationist)
Not only is the Second Amendment proponent setting a good example for the holidays by taking in needy children (David Banda, Jesús Luz), she’s also single-handedly bringing glamour east of Lexington Avenue with her newly acquired, $40-million townhouse on East 81st Street. This move will be a gift to all New Yorkers: hilariously inconveniencing a pile of neighbors, allowing Lourdes to sneak out and head downtown on the 6 train and, most of all, proving that the Met isn’t the only place uptown to see brilliantly preserved old things.
David Rubenstein (The Backer)
