"Should I marry K.? Not if she won't tell me the other letters in her name."

Going through this week's terrific New Yorker, whose web site has grown to be an impressive addition to an already kickass publication. It's the only thing worth reading cover-to-cover every week. That said, the Woody Allen piece was a disappointment. The other two he has done recently were also disappointing -- too manic and puffed up -- which is a shame considering how funny the stuff he did years ago for them was.

Also reading through the various booklets of McSweeney's number seven. Based on the first three I've gone through (Vollman, Chabon, and "Little Little Big Man"), this issue looks like their strongest issue ever.