How appropriate that only one day after Newsweek editor Jonathan Alter lets fly just how shoddy Radar's reporting practices are, the new issue of Ron Burkle's favorite magazine arrives for us to find something to be appalled about heading into the weekend.

We've already shown you what to expect in this, the second issue of the mag's third life: Inside amateur Internet porn! Spider-Man 3 was expensive! Rufus Wainwright gives good interview! And, of course, Lindsay Lohan agreed to pose for us even though we barely devote any of the article to her!

So what actually went on this time around? A lot of "entry points" and "lists" and "sidebars," to speak in mag parlance: Where Bush administration officials go when their careers explode; analyzing Oprah's signature; pricing tell-all books from celebrity editors' assistants; celebrities giving the finger; worst places to die; hot guy in his underwear. Oh, wait, that was an ad.

What, then, was worth talking about?

It just so happened that when we flipped open the issue, the first thing we found was a fashion photoshoot titled "Too Rich Too Thin," where a skeleton (literally) is posed doing the sorts of things Nicole Richie might: arriving at a hotel, drinking Cosmos, sunbathing, sunbathing, swimming, reading a tabloid. Through it all, she manages to sport Marc Jacobs sunglasses, Rafe bags, Viktor and Rolf dresses, Pucci scarves, and some Zac Posen. You can just picture the mag's editorial meeting: "Like, we could get all ironic, and have a skeleton wear the clothes, 'cause a skeleton is all bones, get it?!" (Actually, that isn't an accurate representation of a Radar edit meeting. Actual meetings include Maer Roshan demanding staffers to think like Details.)

The cover story, by nature, deserves a mention. It's where John Connolly and John Cook talk to heads of paparazzi agencies like Bauer-Griffin, X17, Sunset Photo, and Flynet to get some idea of how this whole business works. Here's a hint: money. This is the article that Lindsay Lohan did the shoot for, posing with scary guns. But after the opening two paragraphs, it's clear the writers are bored with her; she's barely mentioned again.

Elsewhere, "The Perils of Palm Beach" offers us a Sim City-esque map of what's wrong with Florida's tony town. (How many seconds did it take you to find Jeffrey Epstein's house?) "Attack of the Beach Bats!" is an excuse to plug the free swag laying around Radar's offices, from the good (Ashley Dearborn pumps) to the bad (a Louis Vuitton … shopping bag). Also, it makes sure readers are aware that the editors know what hipsters are, and that they don't know it's time to leave writing about them to the passe pages of the Sunday Times.

So what, if anything, did we love? Louis Theroux's "The Odd Couple" article, perhaps, because it threw us for a loop. A genuinely earnest piece about The Graduate author Charles Webb and his mentally fatigued wife Fred, and how they have nary a penny to their name after all their success? Don't make fun of us, but it was a worthwhile read. We also enjoyed "Gangs of Iraq," an expose on the U.S. military's practice of hiring gang members as troops. (Full disclosure: We didn't read any of the text, but the tattoo illustration was neat-o.) And while celebrity Q&As are usually the bane of our existence, the chat with Drea de Matteo is worth visiting, if only because she trashes Joey the way you hope she would.

Oh, and Maer Roshan's editor's letter, where he details his efforts to get Lindsay to sit for his cameras for their story on the paparazzi industry. At first, she refused. Then a paparazzo threw himself in front of Lindsay's car. Emailed Leslie Sloane Zelnik: "It's on."