Work: The Ultimate Reality Show: The Sequel
: When I pitched work as the Ultimate Reality Show, I forgot to link to the best cast you could imagine: Just read Nick Denton’s tales of ex-colleague Julie Meyer (and links to her alleged memo writing on f’d company). You know that people in that office ask themselves every day: What’s worse — this or poverty?
How cold is it
: Cold enough that I don’t care if I look like a dork in that hat. Colleagues dared me to put this picture up. So there.
: Nick Denton came to hate San Francisco. He came to hate London. He’s running a site that loves New York. I want to see him spend a week in Indianapolis.
: Steven Cuozzo was right on target taking on the way-over-hyped Liebeskind design for the World Trade Center: It’s overblown; it’s architectural show-off; it turns a huge hunk of our city into a grave; it thumbs its nose at commerce and life; it’s not human. I hate it, too.
But then he takes that one step too far.
Why does he have to turn this into another “leftist” conspiracy?
Why does it have to be “leftist”?
Can’t it just be stupid?
Can’t it just be wrong?
: Meanwhile, Steven Johnson was about to be swayed by the Liebeskind wind (says he: “I generally change my opinions about these things based on what the cool kids are saying”) but he’s bending under the weight of the NYTimes enthusiasm for the THINK proposal.
: All New York is white but it’s not snow and it’s not virtue, it’s salt.
Every street looks like the Bonneville Flats; I expect to see a rocket-powered car (yellow, with off-duty sign lit on top) zipping past any minute.
I’m fearing that we will soon have health-impact studies looking at what will happen to us after we have spent a frigid month inhaling salt dust: We will turn into tuna.
White, white, everywhere. It’s the only time when New York looks clean: when it has been attacked by Morton’s.
Gawd, I want to defrost.