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What's that sound? Oh, it's a bell! And it's tolling for... these:

Over the weekend, friends of former Oddjack editor A.J. Daulerio gathered at popular internet-person bar Lolita to roast the young man. Despite having been canned when that Gawker Media gambling site was shuttered, Daulerio contributes to sports site Deadspin. He is perhaps best known as the superstud of the New York blogger scene, at least if you read the Observer. Sadly, he's taking his well-polished tool back to his native Philadelphia, AKA the sixth borough. (Snarf.) The clip you see above is but a brief tease for the full video (by Richard Blakeley, natch) that will appear on Deadspin at some point this afternoon. Until it does, enjoy A.J.'s heartfelt feelings concerning someone here at Gawker Media who is near and dear to all of us.

• We joined the media bowling leagues because we can't even believe there is such a thing. We sang "Take the shitheads bowling! Take them bowling!" Then we kicked some ass. Suck it, Comedy Central!
  

Without further ado, here comes the axe!

Do you like moving pictures? Do you prefer working but two to three days a week? Do you have a reel, maybe some experience with Final Cut Pro, and a love of working as a video production assistant? Then read on!

They want you to know it's normal to be a little down at a time like this. C'mere, cry on their shoulders. They'll comfort you as long as you need them to. Want to help in the comforting? There's more info here.

Today is Alex Balk's day off. He gets one day each month for depilation. I will be your slightly slutty substitute teacher until he returns tomorrow all pink and oyster-backed.

Thought we forgot, huh? Nope, it's Whacking Day! Say goodbye (for now) to:

Gawker is looking for a writer with a strong obsession with women's magazines to work on various and sundry projects, the particular details of which may be revealed at some date in the mid- to far-future. This is a full-time job that pays accordingly. You should be based in New York City and ready to start more or less immediately. If you're interested, write a paragraph about yourself and a paragraph or two discussing a women's magazine of your choosing and email it to jobs@gawker.com. If you've got a blog, please include the URL. For our sanity, and yours, emails with resumes or attachments will be deleted unread. Don't make us get all Laurel Touby on you. Thanks.

Thanks to this week's sponsors, who would never touch you inappropriately no matter how many beers they've had. Care to join the dance? There's more info here.

Nothing is certain in this life save death. Much the same is true for comment status on Gawker; it can be rescinded at any time. For three commenters, that time is now. Today's executees:

Thanks to our advertisers, who would totally escort us to rehab if we just sort of needed to get it together. Want to come along for the ride? More info here.

We have a pretty good sense of how the comments section on this one are going to read, so think carefully before you repeat someone's obvious joke lest you wind up on this list in its next installment. Today's executees:

So here we go again. As you may have heard, I'll be vacating this particular establishment to work on [redacted]. In the past six months and change, I've had the pleasure of laboring alongside an impressive crew of talented Gawkerites, old and new. Staff turnover and a site redesign slowed us down at times, but all such obstacles were overcome via absurdly hard work and saintly patience from the site team. We've vastly expanded Gawker's content, creating a host of new features that are universally beloved by all readers. I was lucky enough to oversee the introduction of several great columns and columnists who are thoroughly ensconced here, and I hope that tradition continues. The commenter population has expanded dramatically and vocally, despite our occasional efforts at population control. And traffic has increased to steady daily highs, such that this January should sport Gawker's best numbers in its history — all without the gift of another Gawker Stalker map, celebrity baby, or other traffic spike. Numbers aren't nearly as fun as people, though.

The Observer was not looking for respect from Gawker Jan. 11. That was what Tom Scocca and his bloggers said they had been after, when the brawl was done—professional courtesy, blogsmanship, proper treatment between competitors. What they'd wanted, they said, was for Gawker to honor the unwritten code of blogging.

What they meant was that they were looking for pity. And so, under the eyes of the blogosphere crowd and in front of the screens that would feed the scene into a half dozen aggregator sites, the Observer threw a tantrum.

But they're only clips of babies and puppies, because they're good people. Care to join in? More info is here.

Executed: GaryGnu
Crime: His goal of winning the Rory/Raincoaster Memorial Award for commenting on every single post has been achieved; what reason is there to keep him around?

Like so many of you, Gawker awakened yesterday morning in a pile of filth with an aching head and a burning sensation when we attempted to urinate. And, like many of you, we decided that this was the year we would change our lives in an attempt to have the best 2007 we possibly could. After the jump, our promises to you and ourselves.

As 2006 huffs toward its inexorable end, we decided to take a moment to recognize those personalities that made our job that much more tolerable this year. These are the people who gave us endless fodder for our douchebag mill, who were attracted to the spotlight like moths to a flame, whose stated disdain for our coverage of them was contradicted by their almost pathetic attempts to court it. The adage that there's no such thing as bad publicity has never felt more apt.