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April 19, 2010


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Steven Santos

Summation of the article: "Isn't it cool I live in Brooklyn, have celebrity encounters and that the Paper of Record pays me to tell you about them as if my anecdote was profound in some way?"

Did no one from the writer to the NYT editors consider the obvious privacy issues here?

John Keefer

This is a fine example of a phenomena I've noticed over the years. Namely parents who cross the line from "Isn't my baby the cutest wootest widdle baby in da whole wide world?" to "Let me describe my son's behavior in a way that will make you extremely uncomfortable." Why, dear God why?!? does it not occur to the author that making allusions to the possible romantic longings of a two year old would be, in a word, creepy? Forget the name/location dropping and overall pointlessness of the article DO NOT make me think about a two year old trying to hit on a three year old. I mean it's not so atrocious as to make me ring child services but kids are kids dagnabbit! Can't we hold off projecting your own BS onto their shoulders until at least the awkwardness of high school? And what the hell was he letting him bang obnoxiously on a table for? Your two year old is not your drinking buddy from college, tell him to sit there and be quiet and stop drooling over thoughts of using play dates to see the inside of a celebrity's house!


Yeah, it's a little creepy. Even the things he thinks he's joking about - like hoping his son doesn't blow it so he'll be able to hang out with the near-celebrity in the future - are revealing. Revealing creepiness.


I had to stop after the unveiling of his "clever" headline. I like how he doesn't even pause to think that such a hilarious anecdote might be a little inappropriate because, y'know, Ledger died tragically and all.


I was thinking the same thing, ptatleriv. It's so Rupert Pupkin - the things that are significant for him in terms of his "relationship" to her would just scare her.

Ryland Walker Knight

Wow. The world is an amazing place full of wonder and coincidence and tears!


Come on, I didn't think it was that bad. If I were Michelle Williams I might be annoyed that the person I chatted with while our children played decided to publish a thesis about it, but other than that, it was an enjoyable little story.

John M

I will never ever read anything by that man again. You're dead to me, Albert Stern.

Claire K.

But if it were simply an enjoyable little story, it would have been just as enjoyable if he hadn't mentioned the identity of the other parent. Michelle Williams should be able to presume that her interactions with other parents are not going to be publicized in this way, even if they are completely innocuous. Stern has the right to write whatever he wants about it, but it's completely sleazy and, frankly, just ungentlemanly to do so. And his eagerness to score a playdate with the celebrity kid is revolting. She's THREE.


I was in a coffee shop a couple of years ago in chicago and there was a certain famous actress at the next table over from me. I was alone, with my coffee and also on my Blackberry, exchanging email with a colleague back home. I had been there before the famous actress came in and sat down. As she was on her phone, two younger girls came in, saw the actress and immediately sat where they could watch her. Seeing all of this, I saw the actress' eyes dart to the girls, especially when one of them made to take her picture with her phone. that's when the actress got up and moved to a table facing a wall and away from them. I have to admit, it's got to suck to be that recognizable and to see people on their phones, texting and telling everyone they saw you or to come hurry and see for themselves or taking pics or whatever. I don't envy the rich and famous at all. I really don't.

John M

"But if it were simply an enjoyable little story, it would have been just as enjoyable if he hadn't mentioned the identity of the other parent."

Indeed, it would've been much, much more enjoyable. If he'd turned it into a fictional first-person story, it could've been even better.

But as is, it reads as preening, creepy, precious, exploitative. A tar pit of badness.


I sometimes envy the type of women who have their shit together enough that they can hang-out sipping lattes in cutesy Brooklyn cafes with their yoga mats. Then, I realize I’d wake up and be married to this guy.

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