David Manheim is a waiter at the legendary Katz’s delicatessen on New York’s Lower East Side who’d sooner have his own talk show than deal with WASPs from Connecticut.
Money quote: “I think the slogan at Katz’s is ‘There Has to Be a Better Way’.”
(via) In November, 2010, avid motorcyclist Alex Chacón of Texas traveled for south to the tip of South America and then back up again, all the way north to Alaska, documenting the journey with a video camera. The trip took 500 days.
(via) Check out designer Ben Barrett-Forrest’s short and clever paper animation succinctly explaining the history of typography. It covers the gamut, everything from Gutenberg and Helvetica to italics and serifs (there’s even a dig at Comic Sans).
(via) Dig this documentary on technology journalist Paul Miller’s year without the internet. Yup, one of the most wired people in modern media logged off at midnight on April 30th, 2012, and just logged back on.
In early 2012 I was 26 years old and burnt out. I wanted a break from modern life — the hamster wheel of an email inbox, the constant flood of WWW information which drowned out my sanity. I wanted to escape.
I thought the internet might be an unnatural state for us humans, or at least for me. Maybe I was too ADD to handle it, or too impulsive to restrain my usage. I’d used the internet constantly since I was twelve, and as my livelihood since I was fourteen. I’d gone from paperboy, to web designer, to technology writer in under a decade. I didn’t know myself apart from a sense of ubiquitous connection and endless information. I wondered what else there was to life. “Real life,” perhaps, was waiting for me on the other side of the web browser.
My plan was to quit my job, move home with my parents, read books, write books, and wallow in my spare time. In one glorious gesture I’d outdo all quarter-life crises to come before me. I’d find the real Paul, far away from all the noise, and become a better me.
But for some reason, The Verge wanted to pay me to leave the internet. I could stay in New York and share my findings with the world, beam missives about my internet-free life to the citizens of the internet I’d left behind, sprinkle wisdom on them from my high tower.
My goal, as a technology writer, would be to discover what the internet had done to me over the years. To understand the internet by studying it “at a distance.” I wouldn’t just become a better human, I would help us all to become better humans. Once we understood the ways in which the internet was corrupting us, we could finally fight back.
Fascinating, inspiring, terrifying, tempting!
(via) Reporter Michael Montgomery, who regularly covers the marijuana business for the Center For Investigative Reporting, tells the world the (animated) story of how he once – accidentally – ate a couple of high potency brownies by accident before heading out to the airport. Woah…
Mmm…if this meaty Nowness film by Alison Chernick was salted and stored for two years, we’d slice it paper thin, pair it with melon (and a dry Muscat) and eat the hell out of it. It was shot at the new Chi Spacca (“The Cleaver”) in Los Angeles…
The intimate meat emporium is the latest addition to an epicurean empire that includes Babbo Ristorante e Enoteca in New York and Carnevino Italian Steakhouse in Las Vegas. Having just opened its doors this February — helmed by the indefatigable Mozza restaurant trio made up of Nancy Silverton, Joseph Bastianich and Batali himself — Chi Spacca showcases the charcuterie talents of Head Chef and Batali disciple Chad Colby, whose philosophy concerning the preparation of meat chimes with his mentor’s own. Colby became so entranced by Italian salami culture that he developed the first authorized “dry cure” program in LA, a lengthy process involving the addition of salts and other ingredients that can take months or even years, but which results in an array of pungent meats made in house. “What isn’t captured in the video is the wild smells,” recalls Chernick of her experience filming. “I have been enlightened by the science of a good salami, and we can thank Mario for capturing Italian culture and bringing it to us on a platter.”
[puts coat on, grabs wallet and keys, heads over to Granville Island for salumi at Oyama]
Each day in Mumbai 4000 men in white outfits and matching hats transport 175,000 lunches across the big city. They retrieve the tiffins (lunch containers) of food from mothers and wives, and bring them (by foot, train, bicycle and even carried on top of their heads) to the office buildings of waiting husbands and sons. The Dabbawallas have been doing this since the late 1800s. Despite the unsophisticated mode of transport, the lunches always arrive on time (the error rate is 1 in every 16 million transactions). It’s a pretty impressive feat and we were lucky enough to follow a couple Dabba Wallas for a day in Mumbai, and see their work first hand.
(via) “Just because I fart at parties now and then doesn’t make me a farter”. Genius.
(via) Most urban-focused time-lapse videos are bereft of any flavour of humanity, focusing instead on a city’s architecture, traffic, complimentary natural elements, and how it all looks through the artificially accelerated passage of time. This new and rather stunning one detailing Vancouver – mostly at night – comes from photographer Joel Schat. Though it exudes said soullessness, it’s just too pretty to be subject to such considerations (just ask the Economist Intelligence Unit). It tells us that we live in a lovely, farsighted place serenaded by synthesizers and drum machines, a city made for the evenings at a distance and the people who can afford it. And just for a few, fleeting minutes, that’s OK.
It’s not the function of the buckle puffer that I adore, it’s the name: buckle puffer. The adorable buckle puffer “prevents emission of any noticeable odor due to its extremely precise fit,” which is to say that unseasoned marijuana smokers will think it’s the shit and German Shepherds at the US Border will think it’s a silly way to spend $75. It’s being crowdfunded – with $28k left to be pledged – so invest if tightening the grip of your drawers with a secret pipe called a buckle puffer is up your alley. Also, buckle puffer.
There was a time, as recently as the 1980s, when storefronts, murals, banners, barn signs, billboards, and even street signs were all hand-lettered with brush and paint. But, like many skilled trades, the sign industry has been overrun by the techno-fueled promise of quicker and cheaper. The resulting proliferation of computer-designed, die-cut vinyl lettering and inkjet printers has ushered a creeping sameness into our landscape. Fortunately, there is a growing trend to seek out traditional sign painters and a renaissance in the trade.
In 2010 Directors Faythe Levine and Sam Macon, with Cinematographer Travis Auclair, began documenting these dedicated practitioners, their time-honored methods, and their appreciation for quality and craftsmanship. Sign Painters, the first anecdotal history of the craft, features the stories of more than two dozen sign painters working in cities throughout the United States. The documentary and book profiles sign painters young and old, from the new vanguard working solo to collaborative shops such as San Francisco’s New Bohemia Signs and New York’s Colossal Media’s Sky High Murals.
What happens when a pair of Rolls Royce-driving Pidgin customers (kidding) chance upon each other in traffic? They exchange fluids, of course. Well, mustard at least…