Lisa W. Foderaro's page one story in today's New York Times, "Private Moment Made Public, Then a Fatal Jump," demonstrates how society's increasing reliance on fuzzy, politically correct ways of analyzing current events make national public discourse if not less intelligent, then certainly more idiotic.

Foderaro's absurd take on the Rutgers student, whose tragic suicide came three days after the secret webcam recording and broadcasting of his sexual encounter with a male, is evident in the fourth graf of her story, where she refers to "the online posting of hurtful material."

It would be shocking if these two announcements were not intimately related: yesterday, Phoenix contributor Dan Kennedy broke the news that DAVE BEARD is leaving as the editor and "tweeter in chief" of Boston.com. Today the Globe announced that it will be severing BOSTON.COM into two pieces: BostonGlobe.com will put much of the Boston Globe's journalism behind a paywall, while Boston.

Sitting in the middle of a long row at the MFA'S packed Remis Theater for a spotlight event with Mad Men creator Matthew Weiner (as part of the Ruth and Carl J. Shapiro Celebrity Lectures) reminded me of the first foreign film I saw at a theater. Everyone around me smelled good and was triple my age. And anything slightly amusing was worthy of laughter (in the case of the foreign film, it was nudity; in this case, it was emotion and discomfort.

Welcome to "Meet the Mayor," a segment in which we interview local Foursquare Mayors in their natural habitats.

The Boston Cat Hospital
Elizabeth Sullivan

How did you become mayor of the kitty hospital?
We took our cat in for a lot of tests and treatments to find out what was wrong with her.

As the Dorchester Reporter noted yesterday, the quadruple homicide at or near 40 Woolson Street in Mattapan late Monday-early Tuesday occurred directly next door to the scene of an August 28 shooting that left one man wounded.

Now the Phoenix has learned that both of those properties – 40 and 42 Woolson Street, as well as an abutting lot on Wildwood Street – are owned by relatives of a Boston Police Department (BPD) officer who lives at 40 Woolson.

There is so much to love about living in New England during the month of October. People flock from all over to take in our breathtaking foliage. Our world-class football team takes to the field every Sunday. And it's all capped off with a holiday where it's not only excusable to dress like an asshole, but it's actually encouraged.

Geek author Ethan Gilsdorf

Here's your free stuff alert for the week -- now with more free stuff! For more events going on this week, follow @BostonFunShit or like our page at facebook.com/bostonfunshit.

Freakonomics Sneak Preview | Screening with brief lecture by MIT professor Joshua Angrist and Q&A with producer Chad Troutwine | MIT, Bldg 26-100, Vassar St, Cambridge | September 30: 6:30 pm | //lsc.

Is there any scenario in which a co-sign from a former President can do more to hurt a candidate than help? Unless his last name happens to rhyme with ‘mush', the answer would seemingly be no. And if that former Commander in Chief even goes as far as coming out to show support at a rally in your backyard? You'd really have to go above and beyond the call of ineptitude to fuck that up.

As I swallowed my daily afternoon Fox News broadcast along with two slices from my go-to pizza joint, I got to thinking about the Color of Change-sponsored Turn Off Fox campaign, which is rallying liberals (and other thinking folks who oppose hack journalism) to help “reduce Fox's ability to poison our political conversations and divide our country.

You may or may not know the drill by now: come by this space around 12:30 to discuss the week in television. We're doing it this way (still a bit tentatively) so we'll all have things to talk about after this season of Mad Men wraps in three weeks.

A thought for this week: back during the first season of Mad Men, creator Matthew Weiner was reported to have said something about envisioning the series going only five seasons.

Subcultures spawn defining rituals: fans of Insane Clown Posse have the Gathering of the Juggalos; practitioners of radical self-realization congregate at Burning Man; and for the national journo-politico elite and its legion of camp followers there are the publication of Bob Woodward's inside-the-Beltway, memo-and-tell, docudramas.

'Tiiiis the season to be gory. It's that time of year again, people, the time when J. Cannibal emerges from his dark lair of solitude, where he's spent the summer conjuring up the most vile film specimens the horror genre has to offer, and hosts a good old-fashioned fright fest. Last year, he served up tiny, bite-size portions of guts, topped with deep-fried entrails and served with a spicy side of fear, with "Tapas of Terror."

Ain't no knife-wielding, ex-FDNY firefighter gonna scare Madonna. Lady's from (close to) Detroit.

Tina Fey too busy, funny for Twitter.

Letterman wants check, not apology from failed hoaxster Joaquin Phoenix.

Cher leaves Vegas. Vegas distraught, resorts to playing Cher. Strong enough indeed.