The Playboy Mansion?

A genius guess. But not right.

Sounds like something appropriate for one of the world's most prominent phallic symbols, the Empire State Building.

Okay, the timing's wrong for that one. Umm... bastion of male privilege... exclusion of women... The White House?

It replaced the Liberty statue that stands behind Ashcroft when he speaks.
here

The Harvard Club?

The California Governor's Mansion?

(While we're at it, can we give Ahhnold props for his personal aggressive breast cancer detection initiative? Women's groups just aren't giving him the proper credit for this.)

Heh. Nope!

The Boston Cathedral?

Augusta National Golf Course?

BTW: Isn't Arnie's usual MO checking for butt cancer?

The Oscar Wilde Library

Grand Central Terminal?

No scratch that, reverse it: Rockerfeller Plaza?

Boy Scout Headquarters

NYSE locker room

OK, I need a male-dominated location and an action verb not normally associated with that location...

There has been one very much in-the-ballpark answer. The rest of you are exterior to aforementioned sports facility.

Dammit dammit dammit! NOT R Plaza? Dammit! Must be Carnegie Hall? Dammit! I can practically see it leaping off the page in my Art History 101 book... DAMMIT! Is it the Old Penn Station? 'Cause that would be very tricky of you, Bill Tipper.

the Garden?

Nope. Clue: Georgia O'Keefe, incidentally, was also comissioned to do a piece-- serving a function parallel to Davis's -- but struggles over her fee wound up causing her such emotional anxiety that she was unable to complete the project.

Macy's?

No. Chysler Building? Too early. Brooklyn Public Library? Too small. Radio City?

You picture an art history book, Boots, whereas all I can see is necktie patterns, or maybe your stray "happy birthday to a rugged grandson" card.

Ahem. One guess per comment? Is that so much to ask?

Where's my wife when I need her?

I'm sorry. Greeting card and necktie should have been in different posts. My bad.

some Central Park thingamajig that non-NYCers couldn't name w/o Googling?

too vague?

not vague enough??

All credit to Jen: "Radio City Music Hall," she says.

Uh, where is Gavin's wife?

Since you ask, she's on her way home from school; she just checked in on the cell phone and asked me to turn the oven on. She didn't hesitate when I asked her the location--of course, she's a ringer, since she's getting her Ph.D.

But I can be even more specific, assuming it's the mural I think it is: "the antechamber to the downstairs men's room at Radio City."

(I got to spend a week working at the Music Hall last year, which was a blast.)

Thank you, Gavin. Maybe for some it's hard to read the "feeling" behind these dry web posts. But I sensed a terrible fear and guilt in the simple "Where's my wife when I need her?" I imagine you plucking out your hair... "Did I remember to unlock her car door?", "Does this answer the strange noises I've been hearing in the basement?", "Why did she seem sooo interested that Cirque de Soleil was in town?" ...

Then again, maybe I've had too much coffee today.

(Say, I haven't heard from Theresa in a few hours...and she does like that Cirque du Soleil...)

Using a potent blend of good-old-fashioned textbook-crackery and the latest in wireless technology, Jen and Gavin together snatch away the victory which Laura seemed to have within her grasp. Indeed, Men Without Women was comissioned for the gentlemen's lounge at Radio City Music Hall. O'Keefe was going to do a large piece in a women's restroom, but her husband Alfred Steiglitz thought she was being underpaid, and bullied her so much about it that she eventually broke down and never really even got started. The management brought in Yasuo Kuniyoshi to do the room instead. (I hereby acknowledge my debt to Daniel Okrent's newish book Great Fortune: The Epic of Rockefeller Center, for this week's quiz subject.)

I got to work at Radio City, in a very different capacity than Gavin's joke-meistery tenure, for a few months back in the mid-90s, when my grad-student penury demanded the occasional emergence of an alter ego, The Smilin' Helpful Temp.
I actually worked for a number of months in the Rockette office, as the assitant to the producer, and I learned a number of surprising Fun Facts about the women behind the fabled kick-line, some of which may surprise you. Did you know...

...that each candidate Rockette must apprentice for a year as the "shoe tree" of a senior dancer, during which time she may not kick higher than her own knee, smile broadly, or use the word "sequin"?

...that, due to the amazing concentration of muscle mass in the Rockette thigh, the average total weight of a kick-line is well over eleven tons?

...that while no Rockette has ever been elected president, six of the current Supreme Court Justices are lifetime members of the Radio City High-Steppers Fan Club?

...that the Rockettes undergo intense physical training, learning to prevent the tips of their feet from achieving escape velocity?

...that the original Rockettes routine also involved a display of co-ordinated symphonic flatulence, (a la the Victorian performer "La Petomaine," ) which was discontinued only after the AMA wrote a stern letter of remonstrance to John D. Rockefeller, Jr.?

Okay -- point of order, Mr. Chairman. Isn't a phone call to one's brilliant wife -- whether wireless or not -- a more personalized version of the sin of Googlery? What of those of us without brilliant wives? Must we be chronically left out in the cold, without melted Spooky Cats to keep us company?

Indeed, this victory belong to Jen, not myself.

But by New York State law, I own half of it.

...

Are those the Giant Ellipses of Protest?

The Chair recognizes the honorable member from Pomona: perhaps I should draw up the kind of extensive guidelines that would clearly prohibit the consultation of field-expert spouses, prayers aimed at divine revelation of the quiz answer, the employ of automatic writing, or the assemblage of near-infinite numbers of monkeys seated at government-surplus IBM Selectric-II's.

But since I haven't yet had the time to do so, I think that the unjust advantage possessed by those who have access to brilliant wives will simply have to stand. I know that our benighted legal system is currently debarring you and some other players from acquiring brilliant wives of your own, but I can assure you that a genius office-mate or cerebral roomie (if cell-enabled), can, for the purposes of the quiz, more or less level the playing field.

I want to agree with the Gentleman from Brooklyn. The people of Falls Church are, and have always been in favor of meddling, er... brilliant spouses providing non-Googled feedback.

Now bring on the Salt City questions!

The honorable member from Pomona concedes the point, and wishes to convey her heartfelt congratulations to the victors; it is important for us to rally behind their leadership in order that this era of progress and prosperity might continue.

"the assemblage of near-infinite numbers of monkeys seated at government-surplus IBM Selectric-II's."

Ah crap. It's always been obvious that this is how I do it, hasn't it?

yo, I thought the ellipsis of protest referred to the fact that bootsy guessed the answer twenty minutes before gavin/wife did. Unless it was a punishment for the "more than one guess" bit. Or if Radio City and RCMH are two different things.

seeing yr brilliant wife and, um, raising you one? calling?

So did I hackly...I just didn't go on to address it, having been distracted by the POO from Pomona.

Not to be a big giant pain about it -- I did award the laurels to Gavin because Laura included her (quite correct) answer in a passel o' guesses, and we long ago ruled out such an answerin' methodology as being rather unplayable.
But I wasn't punishing her: just holding meself to my own standards. Which of course seems absurd, given the absurd nature of this whole quiz.

Let this be a lesson, then, to all of us: you can't win for losin'.

I always knew I was the poo...

I just wish I knew whether it's a good thing or a bad thing.

fascist! I kid, I kid . . .

As the winningest loser amongst allaya here, allow me to point out that Bill is really the one kidding around these days.

%^)

Poo could be good... like when you say something is *baaad* or *phat.*

Man, that's some poo car you gots!

POO="Point of Order", as invoked in KF's post. And while I didn't mean it that way, Kathleen, be assured that indeed, you are the piz-oo.

I was mostly being disingenuous about the poo and the good thing/bad thing issue. I knew it had to be a good thing -- I've seen "Bring It On."

Something I'll deny if it's ever mentioned again.

I stand proudly by the 98 minutes-plus-commercials I spent watching Torrance Shipman learn a valuable lesson about creativity, competition, and...and...OK, I'm ashamed, too.

The IMDB page, however, features a user comment that suggests a brilliantly pomo/self-loathing strategy by the scriptwriter, reading "Bring it On" as a self-reflective artifact of Hollywood's own commitment to derivative crap:

"This is a collection of performers who are presenting material that is flat stolen from more genuine innovators, and that's the story as well! Then because it is too obvious, it is reinvented following an LA formula, but that's found in many films (and in the story, many cheerleading squads), so they `reinvent' again by borrowing from whatever they see."

Get the full poo here: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0204946/