Postenfreude

The Daily News is engaging in Postenfreude* again:

A Post vendor was caught yesterday tossing bundles of free promotional copies of the sad tab into Brooklyn trash cans.

“It might have been me, it might not have been me,” said vendor John Adams, 26, after a reporter watched him trash more than a hundred copies in three Fulton Mall trash cans.

The Crown Heights man said he was having difficulties giving away the rag.

He said he couldn’t leave his Jay St. spot until he’d given away all of the promotional copies, which featured an advertisement on the cover.

“It’s hard,” said Adams, who has been hawking the Post for three weeks. “People don’t want anything even for free.”

In March, at least 10,000 Posts were dumped into two Brooklyn recycling centers in a move that drew the attention ofnewspaper circulation authorities.

*Loosely defined as taking pleasure when the Post embarrasses itself. The inter-tabloid equivalent: “Newsenfreude”.

See also: Daily News vs. The Post; Tabloid Wars.

Jinx, You Owe Me A Coke

New York Daily News: “Feds rescue ‘Superman,’ nab pirating men of steal”.

New York Post: “COPS NAB MEN OF ‘STEAL'”.

The story — authorities bust a DVD pirating ring:

The feds yesterday charged 22 alleged members of an underground network with recording, printing and selling millions of counterfeit videos and DVDs in an elaborate scheme dating back to at least 1999.

“We believe it to be the largest video piracy syndicate worldwide,” said Mark Mershon, Assistant Director of the FBI in New York, announcing the arrests under a three-year undercover probe dubbed “Operation Knock-Off.”

The FBI arrested 13 accused members of two rings, including those who filmed the movies in theaters, printers who made video and DVD covers and distributors who sold copies of the flicks. Nine others are being sought.

Raids in Manhattan, Brooklyn and Queens yesterday uncovered evidence the syndicate was already geared up to make a killing off “Superman Returns.”

According to court papers, members of the rings recorded high-quality “masters” at theaters throughout the city, infiltrating previews and other limited showings.

Members known as “cammers” used camcorders on tripods to record the flicks, while “blockers” allegedly sat themselves in strategic positions around the theater to help prevent detection.

The distributors allegedly bought masters for anywhere from $40 to several hundred dollars each and then mass-produced them, selling copies for anywhere from $7 to $10 each.

“We had a camcorder making $400,000 a year just by delivering recordings two to three times a week,” said Scott McGaunn, a special agent with the FBI.

But “We Hear” Is So Entertaining!

Doug Dechert writes in the New York Press about how it works when Page Six is running on all cylinders:

In early March of 2002, I was in Langan’s on 47th Street during happy hour, and through the crowded room I spotted Chris Wilson with The Observer’s George Gurley having an animated conversation with Barry Levine and Courtney Callahan from the National Enquirer. As I sidled over to the huddle with my back turned (some uncharitably disposed readers might call this eavesdropping), I was able to discern Wilson making an emphatic case to Levine, the Enquirer’s editor, that he and Gurley could give him the girl they insisted was then having an affair with Sopranos star James Gandolfini. Wilson said, “She won’t admit to you that she fucked him, but we’ll tell you as ‘sources’ that she did. And you can quote from Page Six on top of that.”

Later on, I asked Callahan what that was all about, and she told me that Wilson and Gurley were encouraging the Enquirer to print a story echoing the one Wilson was doing for Page Six about Cynthia Demoss, a girl who told them she was Gandolfini’s mistress. Callahan asked me to look into it for her, and so I did.

I found out that Gandolfini was a habitué of Gaslight on 14th street, a joint where he’d had several encounters with Demoss. The staff there made a convincing argument to me that Demoss was a creepy barfly who seemed to be stalking Gandolfini until they finally had to eighty-six her. Peter Collins, the bar’s owner, told me that there was no way his friend Gandolfini had ever gone home with her. “The chick was such a pain in the ass,” he said “I mean, she used to steal the customers’ drinks.” I reported to Callahan that the whole thing looked like a set up.

Weeks after that conspiracy was launched at Langan’s, the Demoss story received a blind item in Page Six, three more items naming names in Page Six, a long piece in Cindy Adams’ Post column, an Enquirer feature story and even a Gurley interview (at length) in The Observer. Who knows how much this spurious nonsense contributed to the eventual breakup of Gandolfini’s marriage and family? As a PR campaign for a struggling actress, it showed some determination on the part of two guys for whom misrepresentation has possibly become second nature.

This Is Getting Scary . . . I’m Gonna Shoot Somebody

This Post thing seems to be getting more complicated:

Mr. Stern, 34, an admirer of Walter Winchell who is fond of fedoras and three-piece suits, had been working for The Post since 1997.

. . .

On the tapes, Mr. Stern asks Mr. Burkle to invest in his clothing line at one point, according to a person who said he knew what was on the tapes. He lives in a house in the Catskills which he bought in 2002, with his wife, Ruth Gutman, who Mr. Stern referred to as Snoodles, the nickname of a character from the 1942 movie The Palm Beach Story.

Actually, that’s just the ridiculous part. The complicated part follows:

But while the accusations against Mr. Stern were serious, it was the specter — raised by at least three people who said they knew what was on the tapes — that Mr. Stern implicated several celebrities and New York power figures in an undisclosed, symbiotic relationship with Page Six that prompted an extraordinary day of full-throated and at times gleeful gossip among those who love, hate and avidly read it.

Those who said they know what is on the tape said Mr. Stern named Harvey Weinstein, the co-founder of Miramax films, and Ronald O. Perelman, the chairman of Revlon Inc., as among those who had finessed their coverage on the page. Through a spokesman, Mr. Weinstein flatly denied any improper relationship with the page and its main editor, Richard Johnson.

Mr. Perelman’s company had once hired Mr. Johnson’s finance, Sessa von Richthofen, to whom he is getting married Saturday, as an administrative assistant. The executive who hired her said today that she had not been pressured into hiring her.

. . .

In their meetings, Mr. Stern described three levels of “protection” he could offer to Mr. Burkle, according to those with knowledge of what is captured on the tapes.

When Mr. Burkle pressed Mr. Stern to explain how this would work, Mr. Stern at first cited a few examples involving his boss, Mr. Johnson. He said, for example, that Mr. Johnson, his boss, had a “script deal” with Mr. Weinstein — something Mr. Weinstein denied today. “The New York Post and Page Six have always been above board with our company,” said a Weinstein company spokesman. “There was never any script deal.”

He also said that Ms. von Richthofen was employed by Mr. Perelman, the financier.

(R. Kelly reference meant to underscore the faux gangsterism of the situation and a sense of disbelief about the incomprehensible turn of events, not to mention the fact that fedoras and three-piece suits are rather fey . . .)

(I suppose at this point it’s not a bad idea to reacquaint yourself with Sweet Smell of Success, in which case alternate titles for this post could include “The Hunsecker Proxy” or “Sweet Smell Of ‘Finesse'”.)

Ooh, Page Six Freelancer, I’m So Scared!

The worst thing about all these mafia stories is that it creates a culture in which Page Six freelancers shake down their subjects for either favorable or no coverage:

A freelancer for The Post’s Page Six gossip column is under investigation by the FBI on suspicion of making “extortionate demands” in return for not writing any damaging stories about Beverly Hills billionaire Ron Burkle.

Jared Paul Stern, who worked two days per week on Page Six, allegedly demanded $100,000 from Burkle, who made his fortune in supermarkets, plus an annual stipend of $10,000.

Sources close to the investigation say the FBI has been investigating for two weeks under the direction of Mark Weinstein, the chief of the economic-crimes division of the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York, and has Stern on video and audiotapes.

In exchange for money from Burkle, Stern allegedly would “refrain from writing damaging, negative stories and write puff pieces” flattering to Burkle.

Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Cindy Fucking Adams?