I recently informed a disappointed Allen & Co. that greg.org is not considering a bid, and my reasons for not getting plastic surgery have nothing to do with not knowing where Stephanie Seymour gets her fat harvested. But thanks to Elizabeth Spiers, I now have an excuse to visit New York Magazine.

Though she explained the origin of her new weblog's name, The Kicker, on her own site, where I come from, um, down on the farm, 'kickers are boots, boots that connect up from time to time with piles of dung. This may explain why Spiers put a connection--or link, as they say 'round here-- to my site.

All of which led me (via Google, the indie's Lexis-Nexis), to Lillian Ross's 1995 New Yorker hangout with her 10th-grade, Manhattan private school girlfriends, "The Shit-Kickers of Madison Avenue." You all must read it. And not just because now, eight years later, these are the women making notes for a vapid tell-all book about the publicist industry when they should be dolling up Lara Shriftman's invitations with a "cute stamp.")