Mercy College is trying out a new thing, wherein applicants to the college can find out whether they're accepted overnight. It's called Immediate Decision Week! Catchy, right? Doesn't it sound fun? Like a game show or a reality show where Paula Abdul or some other such luminary pops out to judge you? That's what Mercy is hoping. To promote the program, admissions officers will canvass for students by trawling beaches and malls in the five boroughs in search of "instant applicants." "Contrary to what may be suspected," the Sun writes awesomely, "Immediate Decision Week does not appear to be an act of desperation." Rather, it's an act of capitalism!

Anthony Agnello —"Cousin Vinny" to his paesans — wanted what everyone wants: to work with the things he loved; and to be a success. For a while he ran a business where he rented out strippers, but that fell apart after he rented one to the local high school. Last year, he tried opening a Subway sandwich shop in the Bronx but was shut down by the chain for putting up Al Capone posters and not wearing regulation uniform. You can hardly blame him. Who wants to wear a visor? Or gloves? Vinny wanted to feel the air tickling his hair and the cool meat on his fingers. He wanted freedom. So he struck out on his own. He opened a place down the road, calling it, "Cousin Vinny's Way," which promised free fountain sodas and $5 foot-long subs along with "six hours of nonstop, hard-core, live action from some of the most beautiful young ladies who have ever chosen to take their clothes off in public." Food and sex combined? George Costanza would have approved. But Subway did not. Since he was still using their wrappers and other such paraphernalia, they're suing him, and yet another of Cousin Vinny's dreams has been deferred. "I know I'm a little rough around the edges, but I was just trying to run an honest business," he told the Post today. Stay strong, Cousin Vinny. They can take your money, but they can't take your spirit.

HOT 'GRINDERS' SANDWICH & STRIPPER BIZ SLAP [NYP]

As New Yorkers continue to wait in two-to-four-hour-long lines to get their hands on the sweet, sweet magic that is the iPhone (if only we had some HTML code to put a halo around that very word), the Times has moved forward, covering the best offerings from the iPhone app store. You know, so you have something to look forward to while you bake in the sun, waiting in line. They have a nifty slideshow with iPhone screen shots demonstrating all the cool new applications. Those screen shots also happen to show the phone's service level at the time the images were captured — and what you see at left is a compilation of the service levels on all the iPhones that the Times showed off. Hmmm. Not so good. At all. And AT&T doesn't exactly have the best reputation for stellar reception anyhow. Sigh. God: After all this, please don't tell us the damn thing is going to end up being little more than a tricked-out Fabergé egg. —Jessica Coen

Slideshow: Trick Out Your iPhone [NYT]

Next week's issue of New York Magazine will contain an oral history of our late founder Clay Felker's career both here and elsewhere. In this sample, his wife, Gail Sheehy, talks about the first time she saw Felker, when they were both at the New York Herald Tribune.

The first time I laid eyes on Clay he was yelling on the phone — something unusual. I dared to walk down the back stairs at the Herald Tribune women's department, which was a flamingo-pink ghetto. But I had a story idea, and the only way to do it was to go and talk to Clay. So I was quite terrified; but then when I heard him and saw him, he was very big. And he had a huge voice, which just, you know, sliced right through me. And he was yelling at somebody about tickets to Dinner at Eight. He was just, like, another creature from another planet to me. But totally intriguing. —Gail Sheehy

Earlier: Tom Wolfe Remembers Clay Felker
Clay Felker, 1925–2008

Next week's issue of New York Magazine will contain an oral history of our late founder Clay Felker's career both here and elsewhere. In the following sample, Tom Wolfe talks about Felker's "dominant New York gene."

I knew Clay was from Webster Groves, Missouri, a place I had never been. I was curious about Webster Groves because Clay was such an unusual person. I was sure that much of him could be discovered there, because everyone arrives in New York with the past sewn into the lining of his clothes. I finally had a trip to St. Louis, and I realized it was nearby. So I went out to Webster Groves, and discovered that Webster Groves had absolutely no influence on Clay whatsoever. Clay was born with a dominant New York gene. I talked to his sister about this. She said that the first complete sentence that Clay uttered as an infant was: "What do you mean we don’t have reservations!"

I mean, New York was made for Clay, who was simultaneously thoroughly knowledgeable about the intricacies of status in New York, and at the same time he was just wowed by it. He was agog at what all of these wonderful people were doing. I must say that I shared that, and it was probably one of the reasons we got along so well. —Tom Wolfe

When the FBI arrested Raffaello Follieri at his condo last week, the curtain dropped on an epically great scam. High-society con men of the last two decades, like Dana Giacchetto and Christopher Rocancourt, ingratiated themselves with celebrities and, when nobody was looking, stole their money. But Follieri, despite his relationship with Anne Hathaway, was different: More single-minded and more audacious, Follieri's con was a bald-faced lie. Looking for investors to help him buy and develop Catholic Church–owned properties, he claimed to have such close ties to the Vatican that he’d be able to get a bargain rate on the real estate. (You’ve got to have some nerve to name-drop the Vatican when you’re sinning.) His biggest target, billionaire Ron Burkle — an investor whose money Follieri was found to have misappropriated — suggests that Follieri was confident enough to work on a level beyond simply swindling stars. He operated in a Clintonian orbit of international power brokers that both lent him legitimacy and, eventually, brought him down.

Everyone loves a great romance, but who doesn't relish a knock-down, drag-out divorce, too? Oh, don't look at us like we're so horrible. Hamptonite supermodel Christie Brinkley's divorce from "architect" Peter Cook goes to trial next week, and she's requested that the proceedings be open to the public. Why do you suppose that is? Because she wants us all to know that Peter cheated on her with his 18-year-old assistant, Diana Bianchi, and allegedly did some other pervy things that will (a) embarrass the hell out of him and (b) titillate and delight the public. You see, she's doing it for us! Even pretty Christie knows we want to hear about the ugly!

Yes, love can be grand, but add wealth and status to the equation and you've got a nuclear love bomb waiting to blow off some tabloid editor's happy face. While the saga of Christie and Peter will no doubt provide some entertainment for a lazy summer on the East End, they have a lot to live up to — like the Perelmans, the Giulianis, and the Trumps. We've tenderly flipped through our scrapbooks to remember New York's most fantastic divorces, and arranged them in ascending order of awfulness. Let's take a walk down memory lane, shall we? Just watch out for the land mines. —Jessica Coen

Slideshow: New York's Ten Greatest Divorces

Don Imus has gone roughly seven months without putting his foot in his mouth. And, it's safe to say, critics may have even stopped listening with their insensitivity tuning forks on hand. Not Michael Calderone, however. The Politico.com media columnist picked up on what he says is an offensive back-and-forth between Imus and one of his co-jockeys on the subject of suspended Dallas Cowboys cornerback Adam "Pacman" Jones. Jones wants to drop his nickname because of its negative associations. One member of Imus's on-air gang laughingly points out that since Jones "has been arrested six times" in the last three years, it's funny that he would be worried about the name "Pacman" making him sound bad. Then the following exchange occurs:

Imus: What color is he?
Sidekick: He's African-American.
Imus: Well, there you go. Now we know.

No doubt this will make the rounds on the Internet pretty fast. What do you think? Offensive? Or oversensitive?

A New Imus Controversy? [Politico]

The folks at NBC News have their work cut out with them, trying to replace the late Tim Russert during such a crucial time in the presidential election. Russert was not just the host of Meet the Press; he also headed operations as the chief of NBC’s Washington bureau. “It’s going to take four or five people to replace Tim,” CBS’ Face the Nation host Bob Schieffer tells the New York Times.

Update: Last week Daily Intel brought you the news that a Website called TheSockObama was peddling an Obama monkey doll. After we inquired, they sent us a long apology that was kind of bizarre, though we did enjoy the part where they compared Hillary to a squirrel. They wrote: “We at TheSockObama Co. are saddened that some individuals have chosen to misinterpret our plush toy.” Now the makers of TheSockObama has announced on its Website that they have decided not to make the Obama monkey. The site reads:

AN APOLOGY We are very apologetic to all who were upset by our toy idea. We will not be proceeding with the manufacturing of this toy. Thank you. GD

No, thank you, GD! —Noelle Hancock