If the city had Moses on the brain last week, it wasn’t merely because Passover left some in a reflective mode. Fructarians were disappointed, but Old Testament scholars delighted when Gwyneth Paltrow named her new son Moses Martin. Appropriately enough, the baby was delivered at Mount Sinai Hospital, itself named after the site where God gave Moses two tablets and said to call him in the morning. The park on the High Line—a project more Jane Jacobs than Robert Moses—finally saw its ceremonial groundbreaking, with urbanists-come-latelies Kevin Bacon and Edward Norton. A sneak preview of the documentary Giuliani Time reminded us of the pre-9/11 days when New York was ruled by a vengeful deity. The comparatively tranquil Mayor Bloomberg lashed out at the City Council for attempting to “extort” community aid from the Mets before approving financing for a new stadium. Iran declared that it was closing in on enriching uranium, leading one of its generals to a boast worthy of 007 extortionist Ernst Blofeld: “The West can do nothing and is obliged to extend to us the hand of friendship!” From his upstate redoubt, disgraced gossip Jared Paul Stern—who denies that he offered similarly extortionate terms to billionaire Ron Burkle—led a one-man e-mail campaign to salvage his reputation. An unfaithful retired “Casanova Cop” made a Lazarus-like comeback after his wife, also a police officer, plugged him with lead on a Brooklyn street, then doubled back in her car to shoot him again. “He does what most men do,” his cousin explained to the Daily News. “If one [woman] doesn’t satisfy him, he goes on to the next. He’s normal.” A British researcher seeking to establish norms for booty beauty released a mathematical formula to calculate the quality of a woman’s derriere. (Jennifer Lopez earned high marks.) And a man who’s been called a perfect ass, MTA union chief Roger Toussaint, who for three days last December bullied New Yorkers like the Lord once taunted Egypt with plagues, was sentenced to ten days in jail.