The Police announced last week that they’d wrap their reunion tour in the city this summer, just as a fortnight in which every little thing Hillary Clinton did was magic came to a screeching halt. Our newly populist senator told Indianans that Wall Street was to blame for all their mortgage troubles, but Barack Obama’s investment in North Carolina pushed his presidential delegate count to an almost insurmountable level. Married Staten Island congressman Vito Fossella admitted he has a child with the woman he called to bail him out after his DWI arrest. The summer’s blockbuster divorce trial, starring New Jersey’s former First Family, the McGreeveys, went into turnaround when the couple brokered a potential settlement. Public Advocate Betsy Gotbaum wondered why only 4 percent of third-graders were suiting up for gym class. Commuters were stuck when an N train jumped the rails at 57th and Seventh. Miss Brooklyn, the Frank Gehry–designed would-be queen of Bruce Ratner’s ailing Atlantic Yards project, will now be replaced with a shorter and less statuesque “B1.” Madonna groupies lost their heads when Hard Candy hit No. 1. Jack Jordan, the loner who’d sent Uma Thurman pictures of decapitated women, was convicted of stalking and aggravated harassment. (He’d insisted he was just flirting.) Monet’s Le Pont du Chemin de Fer a Argenteuil sold for a record $41 million at Christie’s Impressionists sale, though the rest of the auction was a bust. The Rockettes held tryouts at Radio City. A Columbia student said Lindsay Lohan boosted her mink from downtown club 1Oak, and paparazzi-photo evidence seemed to support her claim. The Rangers were bounced from the NHL playoffs. And Gisele Bündchen momentarily considered donning Wonder Woman’s bulletproof bracelets at the Met’s superhero-themed Costume Institute Gala—where Scarlett Johansson, newly engaged to Ryan Reynolds, showed off a rock that evening honoree Superman might have struggled to budge.
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