We're not crazy- we understood full well the tough times that mortgage lender Countrywide has lately fallen on would mean a battening down and tightening of the company belt. We just assumed the streamlining would be contained to firing a ton of employees and screwing a few more people on their home loans, and not impinge on the really important stuff, like flying Ang. Moz.’s leathery goodness around the world in style.

So we were extremely disappointed to hear that the company put its Gulfstream IV on the market, for $21.5 million, which really isn’t that much money when you factor in how sad the sale will make the old crocodile, who’s had some great times in that thing. Making spur of the moment visits to Fresno for the ego boosts derived from thinking about how many people he and his associates fucked in town. Entertaining tanning bed distributers at the cabin bar during the flight to Dubuque, Iowa for their missionary work (if ever there was a population comprised solely of pasty individuals in need of a little “face paint,” as Moz likes to call it, it was in Dubque). Throwing $500,000 in small bills out the window over a cattle ranch in Montana, and making 100 Countrywide staffers pick up and return every last dollar. Shit like that.

And now he's being involuntarily stripped of these memories, like the chemical peel he so desperately needs but refuses to get. Anyway. I’m not sure there’s anything any of us can do about it, but I just felt you should know. If I'm wrong, and you do have the scratch, there's contact information for some Countrywide guy named Patrick Johnson who I guess is handling the sale. Give him a buzz in the office at (818) 778-1770, or try him on his cell at (203) 890-2000. This is important.

1990 GULFSTREAM IV [Controller]

* Yeah I know he "said" he wouldn't use the company plane but we're talking about Angelo Mozillo here and need to take everything that comes out of his mouth with a giant grain of If I'd screw you for a nickle, you don't even want to know what I'd do to you for a free ride on the corporate jet^TM salt.

President Bush has moved onto a new, more worthy target and his name is Warren Buffett. Bushie is currently proposing a major cut in federal taxes paid by passenger carriers every year by $1.68 billion. The burden would fall on smaller operators like General Motors Corp. and NetJets Inc, Berkshire Hathaway’s business-jet charter company to make up the difference. Right now, the government gets $2,015 each time a full Boeing Co. 757-200 jet travels between New York and Florida, and $236 from a General Dynamics Corp. G4. Bush would like those numbers to change to $1,298 and $837, respectively.

Shockingly, James May, the president of the Air Transport Association, a Washington lobbyist group for major airlines, told Bloomberg: “We absolutely have been overpaying. Our passengers should not be forced to continue to subsidize corporate aircraft.''

Ed Bolen, with the National Business Aviation Association trade group, believes that the change in law, should it be enacted, would be “significant,” and that sizeable amount of small-jet users would drastically reduce their flying. (Which, on a personal note, would not be good news for DB, as we’re planning on bringing back Planespotting in the very near future).

Buffett did not respond to a request for comment by Bloomberg or Dealbreaker; his silence can only be explained by this bit of BS. Bigger fish to fry, indeed. (And that was in no way a comment on his hatred of salmon, but if you want to take it there, by all means. We'll be riding that horse for at least another couple of weeks).

Buffett Battles Bush as Corporate-Jet Owners Fight Tax Increase [Bloomberg]
Cavemen pilot called ‘astoundingly awful’ [AdFreak]

Contrary to popular belief, here at DealBreaker, we like to look out for the little people. We’re all “Big Brothers” (and Sisters); every Wednesday night we play Bingo with a bunch of senior citizens; and we've all adopted several Cambodian children (legally). Carney was actually a stray kitten that we kept leaving milk outside the door for until one morning when we just decided to take the little guy in and he became the tiger you see before you.

Which was why, upon opening our copy of Greenwich Time last evening, our hearts broke to read about a terrible phenomenon that’s been going on in the town CNN Money ranked 12th on its list of the 100 Best Places to Live in the United States in 2005, where Mel Gibson has a home (and therefore, has been pulled over for drunk driving) and The Ice Storm, The Stepford Wives and parts of a student film we had a small but award-winning role in junior year of college were filmed. If you could see us now (and a few of you with whom we’ve exchanged WebCam capabilities with can), you’d see two people who are thanking god they wore waterproof mascara this morning because they are just barely holding back tears that are pleading to come out (mostly Carney though, I’m not really a crier).

(via Boing Boing)

SAC Capital, Morgan Stanley, Blackstone and Citigroup all went for the three-day weekend, departing at ten am or later Monday morning. Meanwhile, the NYSE’s plane was in Hawaii until after 1 that afternoon, which chafes pretty badly, considering the fact that Johnny T. told me we couldn’t see each other this weekend because he was “swamped with work all day Saturday" and was "having two pairs of pants tailored on Sunday.” Sartorial douchebag.

...every corporate executive and his mother (and her mother) taking the company jet on unauthorizedish jaunts? Todd Thomson, sure, he needed some privacy a few thousand feet above ground to seduce the $Honey, that we get. But what about everyone else? Like, for instance, Applebee's former CEO Lloyd Hill? In a letter to the chairman of Applebee’s International’s (APPB) compensation committee, CEO Douglas Conant, from Richard C. Breeden (obtained by footnoted.org), DC is informed of the error of his "free rides for everyone" ways:

On 29 occasions from April 2006 through January 2007, Applebees’s corporate aircraft flew into and out of Galveston, Texas, where former CEO Lloyd Hill happens to own a beach house. The nearest Applebees’s restaurant is more than 40 miles away. Though Mr. Hill ceased to be CEO in September 2006, company planes continue the Galveston shuttle."

We do not believe that shareholder interests are served by turning corporate aircraft into flying limousines for senior executives’ personal vacations. Just as importantly, this practice is inconsistent with the wholesome “neighborhood values” that Applebee’s claims to embody as a company. I am quite certain that most Applebee’s customers would be shocked to find out that a portion of the cost of their meal goes to fly the former CEO back and forth to his beach house aboard a corporate plane.

Allowing someone to fly the company plane to his beach house when he doesn’t even work for the company anymore is one thing, but bucking Applebee’s “wholesome neighborhood values”? That a portion of the $9.99 that Bob Loblaw is shelling out for his Fiesta Lime Chicken™ is paying for? That is just wrong, my friend. This is why Applebee’s is on the decline.

(NB: footnoted asks in a P.S.: “Just imagine if some other folks started digging into corporate flight logs — now that would make for some interesting proxy reading. In fact, this sounds like a great wiki-project for footnoted.org readers. Anyone interested in helping to pull this together?” Obviously we’re huge fans of FN and read it daily but here’s a question—what in god’s name do you think the point of this is? Our own personal amusement?)

A day at the beach…[footnoted.org]

Now that the housekeeping’s taken care of, now seems like as good a time as any to introduce our latest and greatest Planespotting feature. Our ad guy worked overtime this month—that or ‘Zbignew’ and ‘Anonymous’ have been clicking the hell out of the CFO.com skyscraper—and we found ourselves with a little extra spending money. Naturally this surplus went toward our top priority here in the DB HQs: Planespotting, and derivatives thereof. Since everyone (who matters) is in that canton of Graubünden, Landwasser River-adjacent, or en route, and a whole Planespotting of “W, X, Y Z went from here to there on their aircraft carriers of choice” leaves something to be desired, we decided to put our pocket change to good use and send some special correspondents to do a little undercover work, pre-aviationally speaking, to find out who’s afraid of flying, who’s got to have the window seat, and who’s planning on saying “F the FAA, I’ll take my disposable razor on the plane in order to get a quick shave in before landing and I dare them to stop me,” etc, etc. You will find the first report after the jump. And watch for the second installment of this series on Thursday, when we reveal which Fortune 500 CEO Special Correspondent Bono found out a little too much about in a Zurich Airport Men’s Room. Stay tuned.

oh baby its bess (2:59:05 PM): what, is it too soon to use the pink eye excuse again?
oh baby its bess (2:59:11 PM): not that i didn't appreciate the broken leg story
oh baby its bess (2:59:19 PM): but i think it's a little bit early to bring out the big guns like that
oh baby its bess (2:59:57 PM): you've been typing for a while
jfcarney (2:59:58 PM): look...it's really broken. in four places! granted the morphine is great, but do you really think i'd voluntarily commit myself to a hospital knowing i'd be Jameson's-free for 4+ days?
oh baby its bess (3:00:44 PM): that was my first thought but i also know that you’re a sicko who gets off on self-harm, as previously noted
jfcarney (2:59:59 PM): did you SEE the flickr photo?
oh baby its bess (3:01:05 PM): yeah someone sent it to me...looks doctored
jfcarney (3:01:11 PM): i mean, my god woman
oh baby its bess (3:01:21 PM): I know this was just all just a scam to get out of trash duty
jfcarney (3:01:17 PM): my right leg is more swollen than ________
oh baby its bess (3:02:20 PM): ew
oh baby its bess (3:02:23 PM): you're so sick sometimes
jfcarney (3:02:27 PM): or
jfcarney (3:02:32 PM): is fatter than _________
oh baby its bess (3:02:52 PM): your head after holman jenkins called you a "journalist"?
oh baby its bess (3:03:00 PM): too soon?
jfcarney (3:03:33 PM): hey! i'm insulted! i deserve that title! do you know how many mornings i had to stumble into work at 3pm to reach that milestone?
oh baby its bess (3:04:38 PM): as a matter of fact, i do, since i come in m-f, and make a mental note each time-- my calculations say, for the period starting 12/1 and ending 1/1...3
jfcarney (3:04:44 PM): look missy, i brought you into this world and i can take you out. don't you forget that.
oh baby its bess (3:05:27 PM): ok mom
oh baby its bess (3:05:31 PM): btw
oh baby its bess (3:06:08 PM): i LOVE the new guy
oh baby its bess (3:06:13 PM): you could almost say i've replaced you
oh baby its bess (3:06:16 PM): completely
oh baby its bess (3:06:26 PM): i'd say it's only a matter of days now
jfcarney (3:06:34 PM): you two timing....
oh baby its bess (3:06:52 PM): you did this
jfcarney (3:06:57 PM): bess
oh baby its bess (3:06:58 PM): what
jfcarney (3:07:03 PM): what about the good times we had?
jfcarney (3:07:05 PM): remember
jfcarney (3:07:12 PM): epstein and the underage czech whores
jfcarney (3:07:14 PM): the pepsi exec and the jerry springer show his family/friends are still putting on in the comments section
oh baby its bess (3:07:15 PM): yeah..
jfcarney (3:07:25 PM): and [whatever else]
jfcarney (3:07:31 PM): (i dont read the site)
oh baby its bess (3:07:37 PM): yeah
oh baby its bess (3:07:38 PM): i know
oh baby its bess (3:07:40 PM): i'm sorry
oh baby its bess (3:07:47 PM): it's just that i miss you so much
oh baby its bess (3:07:52 PM): that's why i say stuff like this
oh baby its bess (3:07:56 PM): i hit you ‘cause i love you baby
jfcarney (3:08:05 PM): the hedge fund guy sleeping with his daughter
oh baby its bess (3:08:09 PM): you remembered!
jfcarney (3:08:18 PM): yes
jfcarney (3:08:22 PM): my favorite story
jfcarney (3:08:23 PM): ever
oh baby its bess (3:08:25 PM): it struck a chord?
jfcarney (3:08:45 PM): lets just say, we've all been the daughter at some point
oh baby its bess (3:08:50 PM): don't i know it
jfcarney (3:09:19 PM): hey, so i'm about to juice myself up with more drip. why not send me out with one of your planespottings...i always heard they were good (i never really read one, to be honest)
oh baby its bess (3:10:34 PM): Warren Buffett: Oakland Co Int'l to Dallas Love Field on his Gulfstream IV; Barry Diller: Grand Bahama Int'l to Fort Lauderdale Hollywood Int'l on his Raytheon Hawker 800
oh baby its bess (3:10:38 PM): ps
oh baby its bess (3:10:41 PM): i baked you cookies
jfcarney (3:11:25 PM): …thanks, doll, but i'm more of a muffin man.

Stevie "Boy" Cohen: Chicago Executive to Garfield Co Regional on his Gulfstream V

Donald Trump: Laurence G Hanscom Field to Los Angeles Int'l on his Boeing 727-100

Warren Buffett: Mc Carran Int'l to Kahului on his Gulfstream IV

Stevie Cohen: Nassau Int'l to Boca Raton on his Gulfstream V

We didn’t say anything when you took a stake in Build-a-Bear, or when you requested ice sculptures in the various likenesses of the A-team for your last birthday or even when you sent out a mass email asking if anyone knew of any "moyel-in-a-minute" programs. But voluntarily spending time in Boca Raton? Stevie-boy, you are obviously a hamster with his tail caught in the wheel of life, crying out for help. That or you’ve got a gun to your head. But we like the hamster imagery, so the former stands.

Just because you’re a billionaire doesn’t mean you need to pilfer away your clams like a sailor on leave in the name of style, substance or safety. Carl Icahn doesn’t believe in buying $23 million jets anymore than he does in having a pair of limited edition Juicy Couture leopard-print skivvies (just kidding—he’s got one for every day of the week). Anyway, in a recent interview with Avenue magazine, Icahn recalled a flight he took with Leon Black and his wife Deborah, on a leased jet, during which he shamed Black for wasting his money in the name of jet-ownership, and played a round of Hide the Salami Smoke Coming Out of the Engine from Deborah.

"And while I'm saying this [$23 million is too much to spend on a plane], I hear a pop. I'm not kidding you. I look out the window, and it's like in the war movies. There's smoke coming out of the engine . . . I close the drapes. Deborah says, 'What's that?' And I say, 'Nothing. Nothing.' . . . I run into the cockpit, and the guys are yelling, 'Mayday! Mayday!' Leon asks if anything is wrong, and I say, 'Nothing, nothing, Leon.'

And then Deborah was like “Carl, I'm not a doctor, but should I be worried about the fact that the wing looks like it’s about to break off?” And I was like, “No, no, that’s nothing, look, a shiny object!” But she wouldn't stop harping on it, so I shot her. What?

AT LEASE THEY LANDED SAFELY [Page Six]

John Thain: Metropolitan Oakland Int'l to Bob Hope on the NYSE’s Gulfstream IV

While New York Magazine’s profile on John Thain may tell you a lot of things you didn’t know about the man whose cheek bones defy gravity to such an extent as to frighten young children and freshmen traders alike—Thain was instrumental in Corzine’s ousting from Goldman Sachs; Thain’s office is on the sixth floor; Thain possesses an unparalleled proclivity for Gray’s Papaya hot dogs—specifically the Recession Special (two dogs and a small drink for $3.50)—it won’t tell you why he flew to Burbank, California, not too long ago. Know who will? This guy (and girl. Actually it’s just me but Carney gave me a bobble head crafted in his likeness for Hanukkah and insisted I keep it on my desk “at all times, so as to instill a constant sense of insecurity and paralyzing self-doubt” in myself, so it’s kind of like there’s two of us here doing this).

Anyway, Thain. It’s a well-guarded secret on the NYSE that John Thain has been itching to get into show business for years. Years. We’re talking like since before Goldman, before MIT, before his father tried to shame it out of him, trying in tireless vain to get him to “just make contact with the ball.” After several failed attempts to secure any roles that would “showcase [his] leading man abilities” (Thain’s words) at summer stock, many many tubes of red lipstick (it takes at least 1/3 of a stick to write “Yeah, that's me, taking the bull by the horns. It's how I handle business. It's a metaphor” and when you’re doing it twice a day for over twenty years, well…you do the math), and several smashed bathroom mirrors, Thain decided to reach deep down inside himself, visualize his love of the stage, and repress it. And he was doing a great job, for some time. Sure, he had to create an imaginary electric fence around the theater district, lest he step inside that “ring of fire” and risk “getting electrocuted, emotionally,” once again, but he’d at least gotten to a point where a colleague could casually mention Pitt’s latest role without John flying off the handle and into a manic rage about “Braddie-boy’s appalling and awkward-at-best acting skills,” as he had previously been wont to do.

But then. Oh, then. Then came Thanksgiving ’06. Thain’s sister-in-law accidentally knocked over a glass of wine while passing the stuffing across the table and all of a sudden it was “YOU RUINED MY LIFE!” all up in Thain’s somewhat-elderly-at-this-point father’s grill. The outburst lasted a while longer, sure, but the gist of it was basically, “the only time I’ve ever been happy has been on the stage or maybe, when I lowered myself to the pedestrian standards of film, in front of the camera (one commercial counts!), and you took that away from me and I hate you.” No one wanted to further incite the beast and decided it would be best to just “not make any sudden movements,” and even though it was Thanksgiving, didn’t make a fuss when Thain excused himself from the table.

He retreated to his study where he opened a trap door in the floor (that no one else had known about, save for Hilda, the family’s maid and Thain’s closest confidant and sounding board for the pain). He lowered himself at least three feet down a ladder and there it was—THE ROOM. When he’d decided to bury his love of acting, he meant it, but not just emotionally, and in that room, in that underground, tucked away room, was everything Thain had buried that fateful day, when he closed the (trap) door on his old life. His “Jet” costume, from his chorus role in West Side Story. The call-sheet from his Domino’s commercial. The dress he’d had specially made to wear to audition for the role of Marilyn, in a JFK biopic, a role he ultimately did not get. After letting his fingers linger for some time on the creamy white satin, Thain opened a file cabinet, where he’d instructed Hilda to “place the trades.” Premiere had nothing, but halfway through Variety, he found it—an audition for Arrested Development's Michael Cera’s upcoming Aleksey Vayner parody. Thain knew he was perfect for the role.

And he was. He flew out to California that night and was first on the set the next morning (it was fortuitous that Cera had waited until the last moment to cast this minor but integral role). He shot all his parts in one take. One take! Later, when he approached Cera about crediting him under his stage name--Nicholas Jasenovic--, Mikey wrinkled his nose and stopped Thain just as he was getting really riled up talking about the eating disorder he’d developed while working as Blythe Danner’s personal assistant, and with one word and a question mark that wasn’t so much a question but more of a “I know I’m right about this but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt with a lilt in my voice,” ended the years of sleepless nights over why he never got to play the hero, hitting the nail on the head that had been so obvious to everyone but Thain himself, who’d just thought his fate was to get the short end of the stick. “Halitosis?”

Warren Buffett: Orlando Int'l to V C Bird Int'l on his Gulfstream IV

Bill Gates: Owen Roberts Int'l to Miami Int'l on his Cessna Citation Excel

ohbabyitsbess: what’s funny is, you said you were going to, and I quote, “choke on my own vomit” if made to write ‘goldman sachs’ or ‘bonus’ one more time. And yet, here you are, writing the shit out of both. You even went so far as to talk to another publication about those two vile weeds, you sick son of a bitch.
jfcarney: I know, I hate me.
ohbabyitsbess: I don’t read dealbreaker much myself, but just so I can quantify the depths of your outright lies and depravity, I went through your posts from this morning and, barring the Fifty Cent Reads The Wall Street Journal ditty (that was actually a pretty funny one, I meant to give you props earlier for that) and Lewinsky’s graduation from LSE (btw, I think you meant to put a picture of a blue dress not a black one, but I got where you were going with that, spermatozoalogically speaking), EVERY OTHER POST WAS ABOUT BONUSES [Editor’s note: at the time of this conversation, every other post was about bonuses. At publication, Carney had since put up a quote from Eddy Elfenbein and one about Merrill Lynch—big freaking whoop]. Why do you do this? WHY?
jfcarney: I don’t know, I’m a textbook sociopath. I get off on self-harm.
ohbabyitsbess: do you wear a hair shirt and engage in flagellation, or are you more a student of the Lohan school of cutting?
jfcarney: listen, underling, I told you yesterday I HAVE PINK EYE AND IT’S HARD TO LOOK AT THE SCREEN. So I had to just go with the grain and write about what was readily available. I don’t see you digging deep and finding out where Lloyd Blankfein flew this week, do I? Even though it would be quite timely of you to do so? No, I don’t. So step off, bitch.
ohbabyitbess: a. I don’t see why you’d bring up something that you know is a very sore subject. b. just because you called me “underling,” I’m going temporarily suspend my fatwa on actively trying to not earn my keep at this company and DELUGE YOU WITH LINKS TO INTERESTING BUSINESS-RELATED NEWS UNRELATED TO GOLDMAN SACHS AND OR BONUSES. That’s right-- deluge. (And then I’m going to throw in some planespottings—that’s right: planespottings).

Stuff tangentially related to Celine Dion’s sold-out concert series at Caesar’s Palace: A Quick Guide to the Major Gambling Stocks

A video of Donald Trump very menacingly threatening to sue Rosie O’Donnell for defamation of character: Trump Rails on Rosie

Evidence of clicking biological clocks in the Times’ business section: When It Comes To a Search for a Spouse, Supply and Demand Is Only the Start; To-Do List: Wrap Gifts. Have Baby.

Quasi-interesting news about private-equity: Apollo Makes Play For Giant Real Estate Concern

Quasi-interesting news about planes: Raytheon to sell aircraft unit for $3.3 billion

Bill Gates: Luis Munoz Marin Int'l to Fort Lauderdale Hollywood Int'l on his Cessna Citation X

Warren Buffett: Palm Beach Int'l to North Eleuthera on his Cessna Citation Excel

John Thain: Teterboro to Savannah Hilton Head Int'l on the NYSE’s Gulfstream IV

Barry Diller: Norman Y Mineta San Jose Int'l to Licenciado Adolfo Lopez Mateos Int'l on his Cessna Citation X

Eight words: The Oaxaca World Series of Cockfighting Championship Match. Why? Why not? Don’t even try and pretend to act like you wouldn’t be all over that, given flextime in your schedule and that jet-ownership provided the necessary accoutrements. Barry doesn’t pussyfoot around when it comes to such things—the wise ones never do.

Bill Gates: LaGuardia Airport to General Manuel Marquez De Leon Int'l on his Cessna Citation Excel

Big deal Bill Gates, so you have the money to flit off to Mexico on a moment’s notice, or Tangiers whenever the urge strikes you and you went to Harvard (but dropped out—a ha!)—you’ll never have the distinct pleasure of receiving an email like this:

From: redacted

Sent: Thursday, December 14, 2006 3:27 PM

To: Bess Levin

Subject: You're Killing Your Mother

Bess,

We didn't spend $160,000+ for you to work in the manatee porn industry.

Love,
Dad

You can’t buy that kind of satisfaction.

Barry Diller: Licenciado Adolfo Lopez Mateos Int'l to William P Hobby on his Cessna Citation X
NB: This flight has not departed yet; it is scheduled to take off/arrive tomorrow at 05:23AM GMT/12:47AM CST. All you rabid Diller fans out there, bust out the head shots and get yourselves an autograph worth putting under glass (we're looking at you, Nicky Kristof. Drew Pinsky, you're also being watched. You know why).

Stevie Cohen: Austin Bergstrom Int'l to Collin Co Regional At Mc Kinney to Miami Int'l to Palm Beach Int'l to Brussels Natl on his Gulfstream IV
Somebody's trying to (somewhat gauchely) rack up some last minute miles.

Warren Buffett: North Eleuthera to Palm Beach Int'l on his Cessna Citation Excel.
Next year in Jerusalem!

Barry Diller: Bermuda Int'l to St Lucie Co Int'l on his Cessna Citation X

Stevie Cohen: Westchester Co to Shannon (Ireland) on his Gulfstream V

While we’re nothing if not accustomed to inspiring people, we didn’t know our reach was as high up (town) as the New York Times (43rd Street—it’s quite the hike!). But now that we’re here, we might as well grab the mic and offer some pointers.

DealBreakers Guide To Planespotting:

1.If you’re going to ’Spot, you shall spot with Dead Hookers. One does not happen without the other. We cannot stress this enough. For the uninformed, a quick tutorial:

= Dead hooker

X 1 = More mundane and predictable than Mel Gibson’s anti-Semitism. (C’mon. Man Without A Face? Don’t even pretend you didn’t know that was a metaphor for Hitler.)

X 5 = Put her in a bag and walk promptly but cautiously out of the hotel. Drive to the docks. Make the drop with a guy named Snakes. Speak to no one. You were never here. Where? Exactly.

2.Sentences like “The chief executive of AirTran Holdings said his company would be interested in buying gates from the airlines in such a situation, The Wall Street Journal reported Friday” have absolutely no business in a Planespotting post. Too many facts. Too many instances of actual reporting. Too much “useful” information. Too much this. Too much that. Not enough “what the hell kind of crazy drugs is this sociopath on?”

3.IM convos.

4.Sprinkles—or lack thereof.

Sorkin et al-- if more help is necessary, feel free to stop by the office...anytime.

Barry Diller: Princess Juliana Int'l to Francis S Gabreski on his Raytheon Hawker 800

Donald Trump: La Guardia to Los Angeles Int'l on his Boeing 727-100

Warren Buffett: Naples Municipal to Point Salines Int'l on his Cessna 560 Citation 5

Barry Diller: General Leobardo C. Ruiz Int'l to El Paso Int'l on his Cessna Citation X

[Not sure if this is public or not, but IAC's Barry Diller's screen name is URalBugs2bSqushd, the founder of College Humor's, BoobsBoobs6969. Also, IAC owns College Humor. And Scene. Just kidding, you're not even halfway there.]

BoobsBoobs6969 (3:45:38 PM): hey dad
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:45:47 PM): Dad
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:45:59 PM): DAD
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:46:29 PM): DADDD!!!!
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:47:55 PM): What did I tell you about calling me that?
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:47:58 PM): I don’t know you said um
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:48:05 PM): I said NEVER call me that—EVER.
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:48:29 PM): Ok, I’m, I’m sorry, I forgot. I thought you said I just couldn’t call you that in public.
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:48:35 PM): I don’t want to hear sorry’s, I want to see actions changed.
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:48:49 PM): Ok, I promise.
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:49:10 PM): Promises mean nothing to me, Josh Abramson. Do you think I got to where I am today with “promises”? Nice thought kid, but if I was going to go with “promises” I might as well have put my life’s savings in a brown paper bag and lit it on fire. “Promises” are for people who believe in unicorns and buy catheters laced with dynamite—DUMB ASSES.
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:49:25 PM): Jeez relax
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:49:36 PM): Don’t ever tell me to “relax.” It’s completely inappropriate for you as, less so a child of mine that a one-night stand gave up for adoption some 26 years ago than as an employee to tell me what to do. I will sell your ass faster than you can say “rel.” Also, I really just can’t stand it when people tell people who are perfectly calm to “relax.” It’s totally infuriating. And then, you know, you start to act like someone who needs to “relax” but only because you’ve been brought to that point by the person who told you to “relax” in the first place. It really gets into my craw.
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:50:03 PM): OK I’m sorry I was just saying that maybe
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:50:04 PM): SILENCE SUBORDINATE!
Auto Response from BoobsBoobs6969 (3:50:04 PM): I wish Nicholas D. Kristof was my real father
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:50:10 PM): Josh
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:50:15 PM): why would you say something like that to daddy?
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:50:21 PM): I think you know that that wasn’t very nice.
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:50:25 PM): josh, come back to the computer. Now
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:50:28 PM): NO
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:50:35 PM): yes
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:50:37 PM): NO
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:50:40 PM): YES
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:50:45 PM): listen, you know I lose my temper sometimes but I really do love you like a…
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:50:48 PM): like a what
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:50:53 PM): like a…
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:51:48 PM): LIKE A WHAT?
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:51:54 PM): like a father an employer loves likes a son an employee.
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:51:59 PM): I don’t believe you
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:52:05 PM): it’s true. In fact, I’m even going to El Paso tonight to buy you a present.
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:52:10 PM): really?
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:52:17 PM): yup: http://elpaso.date.com/girls-single/texas.htm
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:52:25 PM): really??? For me??? Omg, dad I can’t believe this, this is the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me!
URalBugs2bSqushd (3:52:30 PM): See. Told you.
BoobsBoobs6969 (3:52:41 PM): wait a second. Is this a really a gift for me or are you just acquiring another site?
Auto Response from URalBugs2bSqushd (3:52:41 PM): work

Bill Gates: Trenton Mercer to Luis Munoz Marin Int'l on his Cessna Citation X

Blackstone: Bermuda Int'l to Washington Dulles Int'l on its Raytheon Hawker 800

Donald Trump: Palm Beach Int'l to La Guardia on his Boeing 727-100

Warren Buffett: Westchester Co to Boca Raton on his Gulfstream IV

Denise Rich: Westchester Co to Washington Dulles Int'l on her Learjet 60

Oprah: Bob Hope to Santa Barbara Municipal on her Gulfstream IV

Paris Hilton: San Antonio Int'l to Panama City Bay Co Int'l on her Piper Cheyenne 2