Reporter John Cook has departed Gawker. Gawker Media publisher Nick Denton wildly undermined Cook on the way out the door, writing that “Gawker’s awesome John Cook is about to disappear into the maw of Yahoo” on his Twitter. This is Yahoo’s bazillionth hire in the last few months.

The video for Titus Andronicus’ “A More Perfect Union” is slightly imperfect union between the video for U2’s “New Year’s Day” and the scenes from the movie Revolutionary Road featuring actor Michael Shannon if he had a big beard. Great song, too.

“The Republican National Committee sent a fundraising mail piece earlier this month with a return number that leads to a phone sex line offering ‘live, one-on-one talk with a nasty girl who will do anything you want for just $2.99 per minute.’”

Big deal. Here in America, our whales KILL.

Yow! Leonard Slatkin, of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, has been, opera gossips hear, straight up fired from conducting “La Traviata” at the Met. But how were his reviews? “Several times I noted looks of fear in the vocalists’ faces as they glanced over at Slatkin wailing away at a pace faster than necessary in several key moments.” YIKES.

by Michael R. Bloomberg

Of all the accomplishments my administration can claim credit for during my tenure as Mayor, perhaps the one I am most proud of is the continuing drop in crime. A great city is also a safe city, and I think it’s fair to say that New York is the greatest, safest big city in the world.

Now, you may have seen news recently that the murder rate has risen slightly during the first three months of the year, and that if things continue on pace the number of New Yorkers killed will rise for the first time in decades. I vigorously dispute that prediction-we’re going to pump a bunch of Prozac into the city’s water supply this summer, which should pacify enough people to bring the figures back down to a manageable level-but there’s no denying the fact that we’ve had a rough couple of months.

Why? Well, we’re in a recession, although you’d be hard-pressed to know that if you tried to get a table at 8 PM at the new Danny Meyer restaurant on Gramercy Park. Heck, even the diners-where I eat all the time, mostly to monitor the salt content in the food-are packed. But, yes, times are hard. We have fewer police officers than we did before. More cops always helps. But if you’ve been following all the cockamamie crap going on up in Albany, you know that we’re not going to get money for more police anytime soon. And with the President dragging his feet on gun control, it’s unlikely that we’re going to be much safer either.

Still, the great thing about New Yorkers is their can-do attitude, and the rugged independence with which they move to solve their own problems. Sure, there may not be as many cops on the beat, but if you use a little common sense you can protect yourself from criminals. In that spirit, I would like to offer you an important safety tip that just might save your life. Here’s how to kill a man with a MetroCard:

1. Take the card and fold it lengthwise. You should fold it so that the yellow side faces down, because you’re going to be using it as a weapon and any splash of color might give your assailant an extra second to realize that shit is about to get real.

2. Using the pointed edge from the wedge you’ve just made, slice at your attacker with an upward thrust. I usually go for the eyes or the neck, but I’ve found that shearing off part of an ear is also disorienting enough to give you time to finish the job. N.B., you need to use the left side of the card, the one with the arrows and the instructions “Insert this way / This side facing you.” I’m not sure why this works, but trust me, it does.

3. A more complicated and intricate weapon is something I call “The Double Wedge.” Fold the card like you did in Step 1. Using scissors, cut a 3/4-inch line along the fold. Bend back the two separate sides as far as they go, and then refold the card again, making sure that all ends are extra-sharp. Now you can take out two guys at a time.

4. Once your assailant is down, you need to move quickly. (And carefully! The ground will be very slippery due to blood, and I don’t want you to trip and fall and then sue the city. We really cannot afford another lawsuit.) Starting at the superior thyroid, slice across to the external carotid artery. You want to use some pressure here, because as good as your MetroCard is, by the third slash it starts to get slightly dull, and, really, who wants to spend all night slicing a guy to death? It’s a busy city and we’ve all got things to do!

5. Give the guy a swift kick to make sure he’s really done and then run like hell. You’re probably going to want a cigarette, but if I catch you smoking one I will slice you to death myself.

Sounds simple enough, right? Really, anyone can do it. Look at me! It’s not exactly news that I’m not the world’s biggest guy, but one night Ed Skyler and I were coming back from some terrible charity event in Brooklyn and my official vehicle popped a flat. “What the hell,” I said, “let’s take the train! I’ve never been on a ride that lasts more than six minutes, it could be fun.” I should mention we were both pretty hammered, but Sky was definitely worse off than me. Anyway, we’re down on the platform, just the two of us, and some punk comes up and starts hassling Sky for being too young to be a deputy mayor. I kneed that dude in the nuts and whipped out my pre-folded MetroCard. Within thirty seconds I had gutted him like a hog. We’re talking some serious Julie Powell action here. Sky lost his shit. I mean, dude was yakking all over the station. I kicked the body onto the tracks and slapped Sky hard across the face and told him to act like a man, but in his defense, he was pretty hammered, and not everyone can handle the sight of internal organs bleeding out as a human life slips away. He was SO hungover the next day. We still get a good laugh about that.

Anyway, there you go! I hope you find this information helpful. I’ll come back here shortly after we announce the next round of budget cuts to teach you how you can put out a three-apartment fire using only flour, household vinegar, and a bus transfer. Go Red Sox Mets and Yankees!

Michael R. Bloomberg will never not be the mayor of New York.

by Abe Sauer

Maybe you saw this New York Times gossip blogger profile? It mentions the “tight-knit — some might say incestuous — New York online-gossip subculture.” Well, here’s a home quiz: it’s the “HOW INCESTUOUS ARE YOU: NEW YORK ONLINE GOSSIP MATCH” game! Print at home, draw a line between each heralded blogger’s name, photo and notable scoop!

Abe Sauer will reveal the answers at some later date. Maybe. Or maybe not!

“Pope Benedict, accused by victims’ lawyers of being ultimately responsible for a cover-up of sexual abuse of children by priests, cannot be called to testify at any trial because he has immunity as a head of state, a top Vatican legal official said on Thursday.” OMG LOL, POPE RATZI, you are TOO MUCH! GOOD ONE.

No but seriously, get ready to get deposed, schmuck.

by Simon Dumenco

The Dow Jones Industrial Average dipped 50.79 points on Wednesday to close at 10,856.63 as Wall Street reacted to news that Baby Upset It’s Not a Single Lady. However, stock futures were up overnight, and the market opened high, as investors priced in news that the Nazi hat that professional dirtbag Jesse James was photographed wearing was, his lawyer says, a gag gift from his godfather — and his godfather is a Jew, so that makes it OK!

The Nasdaq Composite Index fell 12.73 points to 2,397.96 as tech investors priced in rumors that the Baby Upset It’s Not a Single Lady video might not be playable on the new iPad, because of its lack of Flash support.

Simon Dumenco is The Awl’s Senior Wall Street Correspondent and Justin Bieber Bureau Chief.

by William Shakespeare

Every year at this time the editors of The Awl commission a poem by a respected scribe to best encapsulate our feelings about the day. We hope you enjoy this one, because we pretty much blew the April budget on it.

The Fools of April

The fools of April early rise
To better share their silly lies
They don their finest fooling clothes
And start to spread their prankish prose

The fools of April love to jape
No barrel bottom won’t they scrape
There’s not a joke for miles round
The fools won’t beat into the ground

April’s fools play silly tricks
But they can eat a bag of dicks
Mark me, fellows, here’s the crux
These fools are fucking stupid schmucks

Every year the same lame jokes
April’s fools are fucking mokes
How to end it? Here’s an answer
Let them all get anal cancer

Or better still, some rare disease
That makes their balls fall past their knees
I wish the worst upon these tools
Who think that they are April’s fools

I’d like to see them in the ground
And people come from town to town
To take a shit upon their graves
As tribute to these assfaced knaves

Twere better that they died at birth
Then spend their time upon the earth
Pulling off their stupid gags
The fools of April can lick my crack in the middle of Times Square on live television. Seriously, fuck those guys.

William Shakespeare is considered the greatest writer of the English language. Don’t Fuck Me In The Ass And Tell Me That It’s Hemorrhoids, his new book of relationship advice, will be published this fall by Harper Studio.