Sometimes one must rush. This is such a time. That in no way lessens my excitement about the following, which, to save time and make use of my expensive M.F.A., I will render in couplets (thus the “Personal” category, which is the only way this works in the two-column design) of uncertain scansion:

This Wednesday Jane Mayer is on a human-rights panel;
don’t forget Mead’s marriage talk at the NYPL.

There’s no one in the universe like Lynda Barry,
whose books, republished, define “extraordinary.”

Spiegelman fires (up) the canon at Columbia U.;
on the New Yorker cruise, oceans tumble ya too.

Having no vowels is a blessing and curse.
A George Plimpton statue? It could be worse.

Right now R. Crumb has a big, leggy show,
but it’s in San Fran, so we can’t go.

Patricia Marx (keep a-scrollin’) in her own zingy words;
Harley Lewin was a Badger. Go cheese curds!

Speaking of Marx, some more Texan fashion,
for which you may or may not have a bright turquoise passion.

Three cheers for Art Fag City’s redesign!
Paddy wrote to The New Yorker—she’s not satisfied.

Radar has some fresh redesign views,
and Condé Nast’s greenness is in the green news.

If you think talking cartoons are the craziest thing,
I’d like you to meet Soglow’s alert Little King.

This concerned grammarian is touching my heart.
Remember Suck on Renata? Nostalgic, sweet, tart.

Thanks to you swell tipsters for some of these links!