Everyone — you, me, your coworkers, your boss, the faceless old CEO who secretly lives in your home — uses coded language in work emails. We all also interpret those coded words when we read them: we know that “circling back!” is code for “fucking reply to me already” and a PR pitch that starts with “Hope your back to school season is going well” is code for “delete this person from the earth and take away all their electronics forever.”
The folks over at Fast Company have made the above funny video showing you how the words you use in your email are actually being read — use it as a cautionary tale next time you’re about to fire off some trite language to someone. (more…)
An ad from Ollie’s Facebook page, advertising “all-inclusive living.”
As you surely have noticed, the media have turned telling us why millennials are Bad into a cottage industry. Millennials are not having sex, they’re not eating cereal, they’re living in adult tree forts constructed out of all the participation trophies they were handed while not buying crap like cars because we don’t actually want them/can’t afford them anyway. Millennials are not actually Bad, nor are they a homogeneous group of people who all act or tweet alike; when people talk about “millennials,” they usually mean a certain subset of city-dwelling white people from upper-middle class families who spend a lot of time on the internet. Millennials as a group are definitely not worse than Baby Boomers, many of whom were, it turns out, Bad the whole time.
But occasionally we get a reminder why this trope exists about millennials, like this story from DNAinfo yesterday about all the real estate companies that cater to “millennials” — aka people who have a lot of money to spend on apartments with fancy amenities — and offer discounts on lots of apps that divide you from actually interacting with your fellow New Yorkers.
“Our generation is so used to an on-demand lifestyle,” Lia Wayman, the 27-year-old co-founder of Room Ring, a service that matches roommates like an online dating service, told DNAinfo. “I used to say to my mom that I needed someone to do my errands.” (more…)
Maybe you shoulda studied bug extermination at Yale, Richard.
Bugs are on everyone’s mind right now thanks to fears of the Zika virus and the fact that the space insect in an overstuffed man suit from the first Men in Black movie is currently the Republican nominee for president. We often associate bugs with dirtiness, grime and poverty: you think of them as streaming out of overflowing trash cans in untended alleyways and having a stanky many-legs party in an old bag of Trader Joe’s flour in the cabinet every time you turn the lights off.
But it turns out, rich people actually have way more bugs in their homes, according to a study from the California Academy of Sciences that The Atlantic reports on today. They write: “While many people intuitively think that homes in poor neighborhoods would host more bugs, it’s actually the other way round: the wealthiest areas that harbor the widest range of arthropods. … In short: more money, more bugs.” Hey insects are gentrifiers too! (more…)
Say it’s the middle of a New York City heatwave and you pop into a bodega looking for a refreshing name-brand Ginger Ale. Instead you come across the bottle in the photos above, staring back at you with obvious disdain for the normal expected patterns and packaging standards you’re used to seeing in the refrigerated cases across the city. Seems legit, right?
Our music editor Lilly Vanek spotted this in a bodega in Harlem last week, on the shelf with the rest of the sodas. Presumably the labels got ripped off at some point and the shop owner (or their kid), eager to not let the product go to waste, created a new one — though most branding experts will probably advise against putting a frowny face on your packaging. But bad news all you aspiring artisanal packaging bodega artists: we checked with the city and this is definitely not legal. (more…)
Jonny Stew and J Will at the Bell House last night. Via Facebook.
It has been a particularly brutal election season made even worse by the lack of Jon Stewart, who used to serve as our nightly pressure release valve who screamed back at you “I AM DUMBSTRUCK ABOUT THESE THINGS TOO YOU’RE NOT CRAZY.” He decided to quit The Daily Show last year before he had to suffer through another election of the same predictable patterns (and who can blame him), but as he left he blew his comedy dandelion into the wind, scattering seeds of smart political talent across the entertainment landscape.
He’s been popping up a few times to check in on his proteges since, with appearances on Samantha Bee’s show and a brief but welcome return to Daily Show form on Stephen Colbert’s show last week. Last night he showed up to check in on another of his former squad in our own backyard: Stewart was the surprise guest at the live taping of the 2 Dope Queens podcast from Daily Show alumna Jessica Williams and comedian Phoebe Robinson. He talked about what he’s been doing since he left the show, how he hired Williams and, like all comedians who come to the Bell House for the first time, made fun of Gowanus. (more…)
Pokemon content just won’t stop. All parties are Poke parties now.
Years from now, when our world is a scorched earth landscape, the last known survivors will huddle for safety around Pokestops, sending scavengers out into the cold gray world to hunt the last remaining Pokemon for food. Gyms will be towering garrisons controlled by tyrannical Pokemasters, cruel potentates who mock your meager HP. You’ll warm your hands over a burning pile of incense and tell your kids there was a time before all things were Pokemon, when you could laugh and sing and dance without having to worry about catching yet another Zubat. They won’t believe you.
We’ve already seen Pokemon Go bar crawls pop up around the city. This Friday, rampant Pokemania continues with a Party at Bushwick’s Father Knows Best: it’s an all-things-pocket-monster party featuring actual Pokemon celebrity Ivy St. Ive, who went viral for her short lived professional Pokemon trainer service. The owners will drop some lures around the bar so you can keep catchin’ em all. And if all this sounds like not enough to get you there: The bar is offering free beer and shot combos to anyone who arrives in costume. (more…)
This election is about what kind of country we want. Do we want a nation led by the spoiled lovechild of Yosemite Sam and a late-night tweeting Twitter egg, running around inviting foreign countries to spy on us? Or do we want someone who maybe at least knows how to do the job? Do we want more of Obama’s legacy, or risk it all and take what’s behind blood-soaked curtain No. 2? Do we want diversity or jingoism, fear or hope, Logan or Jess (but never Dean, obvs)? We also need to decide what kind of attire we want to wear in this new country: Do we, as a nation populated with millennials and an obsession with why millennials are Bad, want to be able to wear jorts wherever and whenever we want? Should you be able to wear jorts when casting a historic vote for the nomination of your party?
This is an important question raised by our own Rachel Eve Stein, who is on the floor of the DNC right now as a delegate from New York and has seen at least two people wearing jorts in her own delegation. Yes, it’s hot in Philly, but maybe bump it up to at least business casual, she says. (more…)
Don’t be an L7 weenie: Go see The Sandlot for free.
What I love about The Sandlot is that it’s a movie about how stories of childhood told through the eyes of an adult are filtered through the thin vaseline of nostalgic distortion, something we’re all guilty of using. This is why the story of a bunch of kids playing ball on an empty lot is suffused with hyperbolic events and characters out of proportion. The neighbor’s dog, Hercules, was never truly that big and monstrous, the fence never really that towering; Benny was a star of the friend group but rode to levels of mythic neighborhood hero on amplified waves of reverence for someone who loomed so large in their imaginations. When you’re a kid and your world is the neighborhood, even the next yard over seems like a vast unexplored chasm of unchartered territory. You look back and think, man, everything was so big then.
The Sandlot is the perfect summer movie because it lives in the sweet spot of all our collective memories of our childhood summers, those days that probably we remember with sunny glee but maybe never quite existed, running through the streets without any cares except where to find a baseball.