Yale paper. I know, it was so great not having it in our lives, but there's nothing we can do. It's back. Paris is fanning her boyfriend Doyle because Logan's father, Mitchum Huntzberger, just left. Doyle explains that his chops had been busted so hard they are now numb. He prods his numb chops. (Dirty!) I guess Mitchum dropped by the office because he's throwing a party for The New Yorker contributor and Daily Show slummer Seymour Hersh on Friday night. Rory is impressed at the dropping of the name. Doyle complains that he fell like a house of cards in front of Mitchum, the man who owns thirteen newspapers: "I made that joke about Abu Ghraib. God, that was inappropriate." (Marilyn Manson: Holy Wood.) Paris says that it wasn't supposed to be a "Ha-ha-funny Abu Ghraib joke." Doyle frets that Mitchum told him to light a fire under lazy Logan's ass so that Logan can take over the family business someday. Paris can't believe that Mitchum will pass his empire on to that "playboy cad" while a "rising star" like Doyle sweats and hyperventilates over bad torture jokes. Rory says she's sure it's not that bad.
Doyle's upset because now he's Logan's babysitter, begging Logan to write something. Rory asks if Logan can even write. Doyle says he can, and that he's actually quite good at it: "How's that for God giving with both hands, huh?" He hates how good Logan is at it, actually, calling him a "stupid bastard." Paris reminds Doyle that he's the boss: "Talk to him. Assign him something." Doyle says he gave Logan an assignment on a professor's resignation, but that Logan just thanked him and then laughed all the way down the hall. Rory's all, "I'll fuck him! I mean...I'll try and help Logan get it all out. I mean, the words. Help him...I'll...write it for him while he...owes me one. I mean, whatever. After he's married. When he's more interesting to me. Hi, I'm Rory! Yale's awesome. Boys go there. Christiane Amanwhaaaa?" Anyway, Rory offers to hand all of her notes over to Logan so that he can write his assignment with his eyes closed and one hand on Rory's boob. It's nice to see that even really skinny girls can't pull off the button-down underneath the sweater without looking frumpy and lumpy. There's no better way to make me look fifteen pounds heavier than putting me in a sweater with something underneath it. And I think it's cruel that sweaters, a major part of winter wardrobes, look terrible on girls with chests. What am I supposed to do? They're boobs, not hot water bottles. Is this too much information? Sorry. Anyway, send warm clothes, because I'm going to Colorado on Monday, and I am unprepared for the weather because sweaters make me look like the Michelin man. Doyle tells Rory he loves her for helping Logan, until Paris calls off the love fest. Rory leaves, confident in destroying yet another relationship. Paris throws down her folder and stomps off. (Marilyn Manson: Antichrist Superstar.)