The holiday weekend is nearly upon us, but we'd be remiss if we didn't link to the second mega-meta-blogging story to appear in a dinosaur media stalwart, this time the Financial Times. (And considering that paper's circulation decline at home, its editor should be worried.)

But not until after all the throat-clearing and the this-is-our-story-so-far-for-those-who-haven't-been-following-at-home exposition does the story turn interesting. That's when writer Trevor Butterworth heads to Choire Sicha's apartment.

Choire is an odd choice for this story. He's blogging a bit as part of his editorial duties at the New York Observer these days (an institution, it should be pointed out, that is talked about mostly because peaked, suffered the backlash, and then reset for the newbies sake.

"Satire," he told the FT, "is the most useless cultural effluvia one could possibly produce out of the cultural situation in America right now."

We won't be here on Monday (and we were barely here today), so if you happen to drop by that day, by all means read the piece. The only other thing we'd like to add is that we pointed out to Choire on Monday that he was the only editor of Gawker whose name no longer cropped up in the recaps. If his predecessor and successors were to die today, god forbid, Gawker would likely rate the second graph of their obits, at least. Of all of them, he had escaped with the least amount of baggage for his next act -- the former child actor who was least likely to end up addicted to meth.