Unlike some others who have responded on this, I am paying for this drivel (a decision I'll have to rethink, since I agree with a previous writer that Salon's quality is in decline as of late). And drivel is precisely what it is. Has there ever been a more self-involved yet utterly meaningless story written? It could have been summed up--much less painfully--as follows:

I am a dupe.

I know that I am a dupe.

I don't care that I am a dupe.

It's no big deal that I've been duped, since others have been as well.

Because I think it's no big deal to have been duped, it should not be a big deal to anyone else that they've been duped as well.

My husband is clearly much smarter than I am.

That this pointless blather was even considered a story is puzzling; that it was the TOP STORY is utterly ridiculous.

I was in Mellon Arena on Dec. 27, 2000, when Mario Lemieux returned to the NHL. It was an experience like no other--crowds milled outside in the cold, waiting for the doors to open and staring up at the giant "66" projected onto the sloping roof of the old Civic Arena. When the doors did open, people flooded in and filled the seats in mere minutes. They wore Lemieux jerseys, they waved signs that read "Welcome Back, Mario!" They chanted "MAR-I-O" over and over.

When Lemieux took the ice for the pre-game skate, the crowd noise ratcheted up another level. When the time came to lower the #66 banner from the rafters, though, you could have heard the ice melting.

When Mario was announced-- "...and at center, number sixty-six, Mario... LEMIEUX!"--I thought it couldn't get any louder in there.

Until he set up that goal on his first shift.

Mario was pure magic. The sport of hockey and the city of Pittsburgh are better because of the Magnificent One.

P.S.

By the way, King, that game was against Toronto, not Philly.

One would think that someone so unabashedly anti-Hollywood as Cintra Wilson would spare herself (and Salon readers) the torture of having her offer juvenile, gag-me-with-a-spoon commentary on the Oscars.

Sadly, this was not the case. One can only hope that this will be considered in the future.

P.S. -- To the powers-that-be at Salon: bilious, negative criticism like this is made slightly more endurable when either the writer or the editor demonstrates some knowledge of spelling and punctuation.

... but can we get an editor to look at this page before it's posted, please?

Ridiculous and outdated though they may be, the NCAA rules are still... well, the rules. You bend or break them at your own peril.

If you don't think so, King, try using that rule-begging-to-be-broken argument the next time you get dinged for going 50 in a 35 mph zone:

"But Officer, all I've done is break a rule that was begging to be broken, one so clearly wrong that any rational actor, faced with it, would shrug his shoulders and break it. I'm just being a rational actor, sir!",

I remember thinking that Mickey Rourke looked a little weird in "The Rainmaker."

Now I know why--it was Tom Cruise wearing a mask!

"A little uncouthness is perfectly fine and plenty of fun. . . . But somewhere along that spectrum there's a line over which the fun and games have stopped"

And fortunately for us all, King is here to tell us just where this line is. So let that be a lesson to you--while "incivility" and "uncouthness" are safe in the hands of prosfessionals (i.e., smarmy columnists), the rest of you cattle clearly don't know how to use them properly and should just give it up.

Apparently you feel that having an opinion about something--in much the same way that your boy feels about the aforementioned incivility and uncouthness--is also the province of professionals only.

I guess you can only hope that Salon institutes stricter procedures so that pedestrians like myself can't log in and use the provided features to voice our opinions (despite being invited to do so) about St. Kaufman, or anyone/anything else.

Instead of engaging, thought-provoking pieces, we get two-page support-group affirmations? Where do I sign up to publish a soul-baring examination of my personal peccadillos?

Sorry, Josh. Save it for the therapist.

I've become a Bourdain fan recently, mostly due to his No Reservations show. I've also read a few of his books (I'm in Cook's Tour now).

What I've come to enjoy so much about Anthony Bourdain is his plain-spoken nature. He has his opinions and freely expresses them, all the while noting that he might very well be full of s**t.

If you want to see talking heads who are certain they're never wrong about anything, watch Fox News.

If you want to see sheep who temper everything they say, whose idea of fairness is to counter every bit of information with an opposing viewpoint (however widly off the mark), then watch CNN.

Like a real person, though, Bourdain's often wrong, but never uncertain.

P.S. I happen to think he's right on the money about Rachael Ray. And Bobby Flay, for that matter.

Heather Havrilesky--she of the grating "chicken" endearments--expounds on someone else being a rambling, irritating, unfunny writer with nothing to say?

Now I've seen it all.

Adam J., what on earth is there about Heather Havrilesky's writing to be grateful for?

Anyone who uses "considerably" twice in successive sentences isn't in the best position to pass judgement on Ellroy's prose style. Or anyone's.

As a premium subscriber, I pay to read Salon--a decision I am seriously reconsidering after yet another questionable editorial decision (a top story about game-show contestants?).

With all that is going on in our world, surely there is something of at least slightly more significance with which to lead?