A Little of the Old In and Out:

In: Chris Martin Kicking A Bit O' Papparazzi Ass. I'm not a fan of the frosty La Paltrow (she's the type that ignored me) or Martin's mellow Cold Play, but isn't it Biology 101 that teaches us that primates get fucking punchy when strangers start acting all aggro while they are in the late stages of making a baby. So, I have a hard time shedding tears for the papparazi on the wrong end of Chris Martin's boots, as Ananova reports via Sky News:

"'He kicked me from behind and I crashed to the ground,' (a) 34-year-old photographer said.

(The Corsair softly chuckles)

"'It was stupid, dangerous and violent. He seems to think it is OK for him to be violent to photographers because he is a celebrity.'

"(Alessandro Copetti) has made a formal complaint to police about the alleged incident.

"A spokesman for Martin said the photographer had been 'aggressive' and had tripped as he ran after the couple's cab.

Kick him when he's down, Cold Player, that's the best time to kick a man threatening your family.

Out: Monkey love. While we're on the subject of primates, well, not on them directly, but you get the picture, I hope -- let us speak on the love that none dare speak it's name ... (sotto voce) monkey love. According to The National Enquirer, that significant cultural artifact, The Rock was accosted, in a disgusting manner, by some of our evolutionary cousins, on the set of last year's sleeper hit 'The Rundown':

" ... There were other representatives from the animal kingdom that perked up 'The Rundown set.

"The monkeys chosen for one key scene were adolescents in an 'almost permanent state of arousal' and they were constantly jumping on and off the actors, divulged The Rock:

"'I can never look at a monkey the same way again.'"

They were trying to get a piece of the rock?

In: Elaine's. Was it ever out? Liz Smith writes, "HarperCollins moguls Jane Friedman and Maureen O'Brien were grinning from ear-to-ear. They feel they have a true winner in their Hotchner tale of how Elaine Kaufman did it almost entirely by herself, starting about 40 years ago. She opened her unpretentious and clubby cafe in 1963, and today it's still a nightly hit.

"'I was asked by Fox New Channel's fair and balanced reporters to tell what I like best about Elaine's. I said truthfully that I love the food and wouldn't order a veal chop anywhere else in America - except maybe at Le Cirque.'"

Yeah, Liz, and I enjoyed the salmon at Elaine's too, back in the Clinton days. Alas, lax mercury emissions standards by the Bushies will keep me from "Elaine's salmon" (ahem, so to speak) for the forseable future ...

Out: Washington Geeks. Okay, I am fascinated by Washington DC culture and the power plays that go on in that imperial capitol. I'm fascinated that cold reptilian calculation can land some irrelevant hayseed a Congressional seat, or the best lobbying game in town. But sometimes, every so often, an event just comes up just really lets us know that the affairs of our chic little empire are in the hands of pocket protector wearing pencil necked geeks and lobbyists -- not that I am a bigot. I love all kinds of people, provided they are funny. Why (gets dramatic) some of my best friends are geeks!

Anyhoo: This is such an event, covered, diligently, by The Hill, which is good on these sorts of things:

"Some 500 staffers will rise early on Sunday -- daylight-saving time and all -- in an effort to give their respective offices bragging rights in the Credit Union Cherry Blossom Ten-Mile Run.

"Each year, some of the most spirited competition in the annual race is for the Capitol Hill team title the 'Capitol Hill Competition Cup' awarded to the four-person team with the best aggregate time.

"This year?s colorful entries from the Senate include Dorgan's Dashers, Fritz's Last Run from the Commerce Committee, the Raucus Baucus Caucus, the Couch Potatoes from Sen. Mike Crapo's (R-Idaho) office, Levin Ya in the Dust, the Inappropriators from the Appropriations Committee, the Vermonsters from Sen. Pat Leahy's (D-Vt.) office and Jeff's Joggers from Sen. Jeff Bingaman's (D-N.M.) office.

Jesus Fucking Christ! Afterwards, the stewards of the global American Empire will retire to Senator Inoye's offices for some Nescafe, Parcheesi and Monty Python videos, discussing who's hotter -- Jennifer Garner or Agent Mulder. This truly is the revenge of the nerds (note in the link: pony boy studs Mo Rocca and Paul Wolfowitz trading tips on bagging imperial debutantes). Benson and Hedges cigarettes will be smoked in abundance.

In: Zbigniew Brzezinski's auditioning hard for a Kerry Secretary of State position. Oh, so hard. Although his name is Zbigniew Brzezinski, his friends call him Zbig (and although my name is Ron Mwangaguhunga, my friends call me bubbles). Our Zbig Newton took a bit of a b"chewing out" at the hands of The New York Review of Books, but it has not yet proven that anyone currently living still reads that publication. I mean, other than me (cops to some geekiness on that).

Out: Serbia. The Powell Doctrine issued a firm bitchslap to Serbia this week. Apparently the Serbs don't yet realize that we are rapidly moving towards an era of international law, for they see serbia as beyond the law of nations. But the bitchslap and US withholding $25 million in aid must be rough ... trust me (rubs cheek ... ruefully) I know whereof I speak when I say Colin's bitchslaps ... can .... sting (shakes fist at computer screen) ... hypothetically, of course.

In!: The Smokinggun collects all the legal documents leading up to Kurt Cobain's suicide in honor (?) of the tenth anniversary. And, although it is more than a bit creepy, it is dry, like the law, and the best chronicle of all the participants involved in the tragedy. Draw your own conclusions.

And, also In: Washingtonian socialite Deeda Blair is New York bound. In your face, Washington DC! (gives them the gasface) The Washington Post writes:

"The fact that longtime Washingtonian Deeda Blair and her husband, William McCormick Blair Jr., are selling their Foxhall Road home and moving to New York means that the capital will lose its most visible link to the rarefied world of international style.

"Washington has more than its share of boldface names and people of global importance. And it has a perfectly respectable number of well-dressed men and women who balance the whims of fashion with a strong sense of self. But Deeda Blair, with her halo of gray streaked hair, sharp cheekbones and a confident posture that carries off everything from Chanel ruffles to Chado silk faille, has been, for more than four decades, the winning retort for those who defend Washington's honor against fashion insiders who deride the nation's capital as a scarred landscape overwhelmed by dowdiness and lacking in pulchritude."

Score at Halftime: Fifth Avenue Ladies Who Lunch on Salad: 1; Georgetown Big Haired Socialites: 0; yessss; in your face

Next: we take their lunch money.