The lede for an article that is guaranteed to make me roll my eyes and not read it

Rik Hertzberg, who is a very well-respected columnist, has a blog posting on The New Yorker's website that I laughed at. I don't know quite why this was deemed relevant for social or political analysis.

Everybody has been saying that Obama is like Spock. What struck me more forcefully, though, was how much this movie's James T. Kirk resembles John S. McCain

Maybe this is just me, but I have very little tolerance for diving incredibly deep into pop culture arcana and trying to draw out complex, and too often ludicrously tenuous, links to "real world" events and people. The Wire is meant to be dissected and the allegories are intentional. But drawing links between Senator McCain and James Kirk and the current political landscape? Spare me.

You gotta keep the Devil way down in the hole

This phenomenal infographic shows what local law enforcement officials deemed the greatest threat to their respective communities. I think this is fascinating. Methamphetamines and cocaine look to be so overwhelmingly destructive, especially out West and in Florida (cocaine in Florida? Color me surprised). I'm equally fascinated at how in New Jersey and New York, heroin is judged to be less a concern than marijuana, but in New England everyone is shooting up like Miles Davis. Check this thing out, and the re-watch "The Wire" to be depressed about the state of the drug wars in this country.

I opposed the renovation work in Washington Square Park about 4 years ago, thinking that change here was a code word for soulless sanitization of an essential bohemian spirit. That spirit was part of what attracted me to NYU in the first place, and I was reluctant to see it altered. Over the years as renovation expanded, I realized that the disruptions were minimal and the park was still largely usable. I felt the wind slowly come out of my righteous sails.

Now, in May 2009 as I sit in the park, I feel chastened. The park is cleaner, more open, and still a place where people are lounging about with no discernible aim. It has managed to look, and certainly smell, vastly better while keeping what I always loved about it. To wit, a man stands just 20 paces from me with a comically large beard reciting passages from The New York Post, calling the former Vice President some horrible expletives.

Same as it ever was.

I count mine in intervals of 10,000

When I see cool little videos like this, I can't help but think that the internet is completely worth it.

Now I'm ready to offer full throated support.

Thanks to closed captioning, I now know that Roe v. Wade is about a woman's right to choose. It's not, as I previously thought, about a woman's right to Choo's.

Now I see what all the fuss is about.

Don't Stop Believing is the most downloaded song on iTunes recorded in the 20th century. Killer tune with pseudo-deep lyrics? That's a license to print money.

Portland seems like a lush and lovely paradise. I think I'd like everything about living in Portland except the smug assholes who live there.

Of all the pernicious -isms out there, I think we can agree elitism is the best. That or rectangular prisms.

Reason #4,323 why The Economist is my favorite news publication (Even when nobody is around)

On The Economist's Award winning US Politics blog (The Webby's are meaningless PR stunts, but I happen to agree with this one) Democracy in America, they have a category for political news stories termed "Complete Foolishness."

Wit and style, with a healthy disdain for the process of Politico gushing about how awesome Vanity Fair and Bloomberg parties are in a naked attempt to be invited.  You've got to appreciate that.

New Yorkers are nice to people they'd like to hook up with

Today on the train back to Manhattan, I witnessed a truly heart warming moment. An attractive Latina woman had forgotten her train ticket at the office, and was going to have to pay some $15 to pay for a new one on board. She struggled with her massive pocketbook that contained at least 3 back issues of Vogue to cobble together a few singles before looking up at the ticket collector with pleading eyes.
Miraculously, a young man sitting next to her offered to put her fare on his weekly ticket, saving her the fee. She was understandably effusive in her gratitude, and he tried mightily to wave it off as nothing, that he's always underwriting public transport for hot chicks. It took him a grand 2 minutes to ask for her name and suggested they grab a drink in Manhattan. She declined, but not as graciously as she thanked him a minute ago.

Maybe next time, MTA Cassanova. I'll definitely be rooting for you in your ceaseless quest for women in that train car seat next to the bathroom. I believe in you.