Just in time for sudden-onset spring, Mayor Bloomberg unveiled his ambitious 2030 plan, which called for a greener Apple—Deputy Mayor Dan Doctoroff promised arboreal enhancement “every single place where it is possible to plant a street tree”—and an $8 tax on people who drive into the city. (Staten Island retaliated with a project to up its “downtown cool” quotient.) President Bush stumped for No Child Left Behind in Harlem, sat for the Charlie Rose treatment at the Waldorf-Astoria, and stopped in at a $1 million meet-and-greet at 740 Park Avenue, hosted by old Skull and Bones chum Steve Schwarzman. Ex-mayor Rudy gave a glimpse of what national “Giuliani time” would look like, taunting Democrats, who he said would “wave the white flag” against terrorists, gloating about it to Sean Hannity (“I was trying for a home run, but I think I got at least a triple”), and shouting down a 64-year-old New Hampshire man who dared to disagree with him. Early retiree Jim McGreevey called his estranged wife Dina Matos McGreevey a “homophobe”—a claim that lost steam after she told Oprah they’d shared a marital bed for months after his coming out. Governor Spitzer stood up for his gay-marriage campaign promise. Rosie O’Donnell, already happily wed, quit The View to be a stay-at-home mom, to the obvious relief of career gal Barbara Walters. A judge threw out the three-day-long confession of accused Halloween sex fiend Peter Braunstein because cops had failed to read him his rights. The niece of Tom Carvel, the late Emperor of Ice Cream, claimed he’d been murdered by an embezzler. Yonkers investigators scratched their heads over a freshly dug grave littered with smoked fish and photographs. The Dow hit 13,000; temperatures hit 86 degrees; red-hot A-Rod hit his way into the record books. Onetime Coney Island hoops wunderkind Sebastian Telfair was cut by the Celtics at 21, after Westchester police nabbed him packing a loaded .45. And David Halberstam, the reporter’s reporter, ended his days in a car crash—en route to an interview, of course.
Have good intel? Send tips to intel@nymag.com.