I cannot sing the glory of the New York Public Library’s research archives high enough. On a previous excursion, I took out 5 catalogs from the typesetting era, giant books detailing all typefaces available for purchase along with decorative flourishes and a variety of creepy and disturbing images. Page after page of glorious fonts! Behold!
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Something about the kid’s expression…I can’t quite place it. It wouldn’t be out of place on a DEVO album, especially with the plate of giant sausages floating next to him.
These bright, saturated orange and yellows popped cheerily on the shelf and drew me right in. Then again that could be due to placement next to a refrigerated case full of de-fleshed cow legs. Whole cow legs, hoof and all. Mmmmm boy.
As I belatedly type this on the eve of Hurricane Irene, after a day’s worth of panic from the radio (“If you and your children should find yourself near downed power lines, don’t touch them!” Thanks guys!), trudging through endless grocery lines, and now nervously wondering if the few people I know stuck in Manhattan made the last subway train out (deadline: 12:00pm), it all seems a bit extreme.
We on the East Coast are geographically fortunate, mostly avoiding natural disasters that plague the rest of the country. We’re on a major fault line, but it’s mostly inactive. We do get storms, but they’re weakened after moving up the coast. We’ve even had the occasional tornado, though with the dense build-up they’re rarely as destructive as those in the Midwest and barely touch down. So it’s a bit of a surprise having a hurricane follow an earthquake in less than a week.
The yin and yang of stereotypical New York mindsets, the high-strung neurotic and the blasè rock, are reacting about as expected. For every gallery owner panic-grabbing fontina and prosecco at Eataly screaming “I HAVE CHILDREN TO THINK OF!”, there’s a stoopfull of elderly Hispanic guys quietly chatting and playing dominoes (which they would continue doing whether the sun came out or a car exploded in front of them). Given how hectic day-to-day life in a crowded city is, either mentality is an acceptable coping mechanism, but it’s funny how few major disasters the city has to deal with. With the 10-year anniversary of September 11th drawing near that may seem strange to write, but it’s the 10-year anniversary, and how many large-scale terrorist attacks have we experienced since? Exactly.
Which brings me rather long-windedly around to this week’s pattern, from a state that’s no stranger to devastating natural events.
Stay safe, everyone.
On a random tangent, I declare the Allan Moore lookalike the Stevie Nicks of Kansas, for while the rest of the band plays 12 instruments each, he sings and plays tambourine. And sports a boss beard.
Low self-esteem gate.
No relation to Dunkin’ Donuts. Or ‘The French Connection’.
Apparently there is a video game about Catz. I presume gameplay centers around yarn-batting, with extra points for big eyes, fluffiness, and generally being a kitty.
Walking past this salon I thought they’d used Wendy O. as their mascot. Nope! Just a random punk lady glowing over a roomful of Dominican ladies done up in enormous curlers at 11pm on a Thursday.
Easy there, Hulk. Focus on one social message at a time and you’ll have more impact.
Ziiiinc! Come baaack, zinc! ZINC! (‘A World Without Zinc’ HAS to be based on ‘Spring Fever’, an actual histronic educational movie about the horrors of a world without a particular unloved item).
It took me a minute of staring to realize this said ‘Forty’, not ‘Farty’. Classy.
Queso Boricua? Queso Columbiano? ?Que queso es el mejor?? Aaaayyy, que problema.
BUY AMERICAN (envelopes).