this is what concerns me:

Richard Florida says he wrote Who’s My City basically as a self-help tome. There are tons of books on the market that address choosing career and love (oft considered the other two big life decisions on which your happiness relies [no pressure]) — but none, he said, to address where one should choose to live.

I haven’t read the book, just listened to Florida’s longish Talk of the Nation segment, which was pretty enjoyable, though it only added fuel to my Portland fire. (Every other NPR commenter is singing its praises — maybe the city government hires viral marketing shills for this kind of assignment?)

I did, however, check out the Web site, which has some low-rent WMC features, like a pared-down “best cities” grid — which suggests that as a 20-29 year old single person, I should try Los Angeles, Santa Barbara, New York, San Francisco or TRENTON, NJ. Damn you, Florida.

I’ll probably still skim the book some time at the library, though, if only to find out more about Florida’s “five personality types” that dictate city choice better than most other factors, especially after hearing his banter with the aging “progressive” on TotN.

This Bryant Park Project piece sheds a bunch of doubt on my road trip plans: now that gas is topping $4/gallon, used oil from restaurants is nearly as hot of an item. Not only are new greasy corporations signing contracts with most chain retaurants to collect and purify their grease for biodiesel, but there are grease-stealing rings already cutting into those corporations’ profits. I’m not sure where I’d fit into this new oil economy, but I guess I’m still optimistic about the small diners of the heartland.

If you’ve led a life like mine, rich in shame and filth, there are few opportunities for being sanctimonious and you have to seize those that offer themselves quickly.

– Another journo goes vegan and rails about how tough his life was without bloody shanks in perhaps the douchiest display yet (think: Bourdain forced to eat curry for a week and then waxing whiny about it to some 150 wpm assistant); but perhaps because he’s British (and employed by the Guardian) the humor makes up for some of the whine. Still, dude could use a cookie.

Blah blah MoCCA was supersweet blah blah.

I guess I’m not the only one annoyed by Adrian Grenier. It seems Hollywood is mounting a multi-pronged anti-green campaign at this very moment…

“Lionsgate has acquired worldwide rights to ‘Stop Huntingdon Animal Cruelty,’ a spec script by first-time screenwriter Adam Sachs,” who writes for the Harvard Lampoon. The film follows “a lonely reporter and an outspoken teen” through their awkward friendship, at the end of which the teen becomes a hero by standing up to the SHAC “terrorists” to save an animal testing lab. (Because, yes, don’t worry, Sachs specifically assures us they’ll be depicted as “terrorists.” What are they teaching the kids up at Harvard these days?)

Next up is another comedy featuring some of my favorite “terrorists”: Mike Judge’s new animated series for ABC, “The Goodes,” about a family of vegans who mean well but fall into a lot of the usual guilt-laden traps. Of course the frustrating thing is that vegans are a perfect target for great, slightly nuanced comedy (Judge, of course, being known for his nuance…). To be fair, I don’t think he means to villainize veganism with the show — just trivialize it.

But any publicity is good publicity…? Veganism is going mainstream!! Never thought I’d say it, but, um, thanks, Oprah.

I went down to City Hall yesterday to watch democracy in action (thank god for activist judges in the face of activist intolerance). I was hardly the only one around with a camera. The real characters were the ones passing out bouquets, the guy with the trumpet playing a spritely little tune for every emerging new couple, and the many, many ministers for on-the-spot hire. I imagine the parade is still continuing today, though maybe with a little less SFPD protective detail.

Personally I’ve always been a proponent of everyone abandoning the antiquated system of marriage — not because I’m polyamorous, but because that’s the only way I think any sort of equality is really going to come to the whole monogamy-and-tax-breaks thing.

But all the pretty lesbians warmed my cold, cold heart… A little.

Sure, they’re a little too surprised (”10 million Americans!”, “The food is quite good, actually!”, “cut more CO2 than buying a Prius!!”), and yes, we can all thank Oprah, but props to the CNN bookers for going to the source for amazing vegan cuisine, Chef Matteo. (Yes, I’m a hypocrite, but I’m even kind of glad they didn’t mention that stuff costs like $50.)

I was a little more skeptical about the second segment, but that newscaster has such a crush on Russell Simmons, I bet she’ll go veg before the week is out. Don’t underestimate the influential power of cute vegans. (I should put that on the “vegan sex and relationship” survey I got yesterday…)

(via Food Fight)

Every day I spend too much time looking at Craigslist postings for part-time jobs and writing gigs. Most are disappointing and predictable and non-profit-canvassing-related. But today I discovered the Hair Fairies.

We are the only full service head lice removal salon in LA, NY, SF and Chicago dedicated to safely and effectively removing these pesky parasites in a clean kid friendly environment.

The pay is real solid — $13/hour plus tips. But as much as I enjoyed summer camp as a kid (and not being stuck in the nurse’s office with a creepy white-haired lady smelling like my grandma’s fireplace picking through my head with a sharp plastic comb), I don’t think I’ll be applying.

If there were really any question, it’s now been answered: life imitates art imitating life imitating god only knows what. Evidence: Nathan Barley fashion has appropriately hit Manhattan at UNIQLO. The window displays are full of mannequins wearing uberhip candy-colored Japanese sweaters as pants. Terry Richardson would approve. The idiots have won.

The idiots are self-regarding consumer slaves, oblivious to the paradox of their uniform individuality. They sculpt their hair to casual perfection; they wear their waistbands below their balls. They babble into handheld twit machines about that e-mail about a woman being bombed by a wolf. Their cool friend made it. He’s an idiot, too.

Well fucking futile.

Danielle Konya’s Bethlehem, Pennsylvania baked-good operation Vegan Treats gets an incredibly glowing little write-up in yesterday’s Washington Post. “The award-winning bombe, also tofu-based, features subtly flavored peanut butter mousse and is coated with a killer Belgian-chocolate shell.”

As the WaPo points out, Vegan Treats do look really amazing (note to self: buy a pastry bag instead of using repurposed [clean!] plastic bags). This is probably why Atlas is always able to pass off last week’s slices as new ones to unsuspecting customers.

But: there is no mention of the cakes’ trans fats. Unless Konya has changed her recipes, these things aren’t gonna be street legal in New York City in two weeks (and I guess D.C. will be getting the surplus). So eat up, kids!