And when the last cocktail blew into the sea, when the last sordid dune-nymph lay sated, when the last unctuous hunk of Berkshire pork was scraped from the grill (and greedily snarfed by the Guttersniper's loyal hound) an end to summer was decreed and a new season, in its tragic turn, commenced. Rejoice! The Gutter is back among you. And soon, if not just today, we'll be better than ever—as if you can imagine such a state of bliss. New voices, new features, new foibles. Fuck, we might even redesign the place. So shake off your logy summertime salt and join us, as we do every year, in hailing September.

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Has your staring at Dave Jones been as good for you as it's been for us? Alas, probably not. Didn't we mention that we're on a light posting schedule until after Labor Day?

Not to worry, Cook will remain all sorts of fucked in September.

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You can count on grace pettiness. You can count on plenty blight. You can count on us working rocking whenever the fuck we want. And you can count on the folks obsessed with rebuilding the Twin Towers to be very, very angry. So angry, kids, they can't even read good. But they write brilliantly.

From our overbrimming inbox:

Alright your newsgroup or whatever the hell you call it (I simply call it a shithole.) freaking sucks! You guys are morons who do not even take the time to look into the facts BEFORE writing an article. I noticed that you claim that the Team Twin Towers wants to build "replicas" of the original Twin Towers. That is an exaggerated lie on your behalf, and complete bullshit! Look at all the pictures of the entries on the contest page and notice that none of them are the exact originals! You would have to be blind to belief that they are! I don't fucking care if you guys delete this mail or not, however I just figured you should know why everybody wants to destroy your shitty excuse for a website.

P.S. The Gutter is a great name for your shithole because, that must of been where you guys were spawned from.

And the beat goes on.

· Design Identical Twins or We Kill the Kids [The Gutter]

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Come with us, O our best beloveds, on a journey inside the mind of The Guttersniper.

Earlier this week, before the news trickled down to the clambering masses, our Inbox was graced with the following inferno-hot tip:

gay is just so damn modern! PJ would have been so proud, because rumor has it that none other than one Columbia department head is stepping down from one helm and stepping up to another. That bastion of American architectural taste has passed its torch yet again - from Terry to Barry. The courage to be effete indeed!

From the above it was pretty simple to divine that none other than the very brilliant Barry Bergdoll had been tapped by MoMA, at long last, to fill Terry Riley's vacant spot. It was also pretty simple to remember (after an associate reminded us) that this was old news, "broken" elsewhere by a very appropriate messenger. So we passed. Inviting, as the week wore on with its usual sloth and decay, about a dozen bitchy dissatisfied emails along the lines of the one we reproduce in archival quality below:

Have you NOTHING to say about the appointment of Barry Bergdoll as new Chief Curator for Architecture and Design at MoMA? Come on this is real news for a change... Or are you too busy studying the traffic patterns on the LIE?

Bingo to the first assertion. Not quite, alas, to the second. And, to the third, not at all; we're really beginning to favor the Southern State.

· Terence Riley is Gone. Long Live TK! [The Gutter]

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Not of The Gutter, fools! No, this scroll is endless, unending, without end. Which is to say it goes on. And on. And, indeed, on a spot more. Supplemented soon by one of you—plucked bodily from the seething masses, heart and soul. Applicants, your long, nail-biting wait for potential validation is almost over. For one of you, all too soon, will be joining us! And—stay tuned, all, for the baptismal bacchanal—we think we know whom it will be....

· Update: Help Wanted [The Gutter]
· Update Update: Cavalcade of Help Edition [The Gutter]

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Summer. A time of not giving too much of a fuck. Especially about Zaha. But then we turn to our inbox and find yet another brilliant Reader who wants to cross to the wrong side of the proscenium and add his/her voice to the chorus. And that makes us happy.

Qualified candidates? We got 'em. Would-be poachees from the competition? Yup. Well-known architects? Just one. A pick? We'll get around to it. Sooner rather than later. But there's still plenty of time. So pipe up. Mi, mi, mi!

· The Gutter Update: Help Wanted [The Gutter]

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The Gutter, the very blog your eyes have alighted (alit?) on this very moment, is seeking to grow our editorial team. Okay, sure, "team" is a big word. But we like big words. And we're actually quite serious about this.

About us: an architecture and design blog with dreams of bigger, even more unseemly things. About you: an affinity for architecture, interior design, and the strange threads that unite them. If you're interested, email us a paragraph about yourself and a paragraph about the quality journalism you'd like to bring to The Gutter. (If you've got a blog, include the link; no attachments, please.) This is a (lowly) paid part-time gig with the promise of fame, glory, and all the cheap beer you can drink. If that sounds like you—well, we're waiting.

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We went fishing. Yes we did. But not only for the sort of archidross that might divert you all as your computers boot up for this first full work day of what promises to be a boffo summer of unadulterated awesome. Summer! A time of chance-blown skirts and heel cleavage. Of croquet played dirty and wife-beaters worn fair. We know how you passed these long, late, lissome, larking days. We actually did go fishing—for crabs, as it happened. Crabbing, we suppose, more technically. We thought that would be a better way to ring in the season than, say, crabbedly poking at a deck, angry and alone. Outside, folks. It's where the air is.

· Gone Fishin' [The Gutter]

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A slow day begins a slow weekend begins a slow summer. The seasons are changing today, and with them our social calendar. Goodbye, indoor entertainment. Hello, outdoor. We're packing up, strapping in. Catch you on the flipside.

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Sure there's been some friction, the occasional war, but there's always a lot of love. Self love? That's the rub! But we're not so callous as to be unable to find joy in a birth. And today, already festive, brings news of the Stork. Meet The Beach, our fathers' forefathers' latest unseemly digital diversion. We intend to Summer elsewhere, of course—as Mrs. Wright once said to her Mister upon arrival at the Wisconsin state fair, "Frank! There are too many plebians here!"—but the places we go don't serve up the same kind of easygoing dish.

· Introducing The Beach [The Beach]

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