All of things that were on my internet this week.
Do you feel more lonely after using your smart phone?
Pre-internet we were lonely because we didn't think there was anyone else quite like us out there. Now we're even more lonely because we've realized how many there actually are.
Turkle wants to make a point that is even stronger than the one about our phones being fantasies. She goes on to argue that they're changing human identity by replacing the intimacy of face-to-face conversation with online connectedness. To somewhat simplify her argument, she says that social media have reversed the traditional flow chart of communication. In the past, people had feelings or ideas, and then shared them. Today, she believes that people "have feelings in order to share them." Her point seems to be that people used to have feelings in solitude, held onto them, and then talked about them. But today people have feelings and communicate them at the same time. There is no moment to take a breather in between the feeling or idea and the conversation about it.
The end of white guilt
Daily Caller took one look at all that shine racist Taki Mag was getting over the racist John Derbyshire racism piece and thought to themselves, racistly, "Yeah, we want a piece of that action." Derbyshire, I should point out, is only saying what millions of white Americans think already and are just ashamed to say out loud: "I no longer have a job."
That’s when I lost it. I had been carefully educated by liberal parents that we are all, black and white, the same. My favorite movie growing up was “In the Heat of the Night.” Yet that often meant not treating everyone the same. It meant treating blacks with a mixture of patronizing condescension and obsequious genuflecting to their Absolute Moral Authority gained from centuries of suffering. It meant not treating everyone the same.
It meant leaving valuable things like a bike in a vulnerable position in a black part of town because you didn’t want to admit that the crime is worse in poor black neighborhoods.Mike Wallace Was an Icon of Television, Not Journalism
In the final Gawkerian summation we all must inevitably face, everyone is a piece of shit. Gawker, I don't mind telling you, are 'very good' at 'what they do.'
He was a failed soap actor and vaudeville hack named Myron who just wanted to be on television. He was as much a journalist as Ryan Seacrest.
brb going to go to set up a bunch of job interviews.
Researchers from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln found that narcissists make a better impression in job interviews likely because they are just so darn good at promoting themselves.
I wrote about ginger in cocktails in the Wall Street Journal this weekend.
As a barman in Bourbon Country, Brandon Judd of Table 310 in Lexington, Ky., gets calls for bourbon with ginger ale often, which to cocktail snobs is sacrilegious. His Giddy-Up is a workaround to that demand. It uses Snap and the lighter Cognac-based ginger liqueur Domaine de Canton. Together they deliver a vanilla-tinged, spicy bite. The wheated bourbon also brings a healthy dose of caramel to the mix.
Advice for future food writers
Don't bother, basically. Same thing I would've said. Some solid advice for young people who want to explore a writing career in the fabulous world of lifestyle journalism from a veteran.
I can no longer responsibly recommend that you drop everything to try to become a food writer. Except for a very small group of people (some of whom are clinging to jobs at magazines that pay more than the magazines' business models can actually afford), it’s nearly impossible to make a living as a food writer, and I think it’s only going to get worse.
I picked out some of my favorite SEXI beer, wine and spirits bottles for Stuff Mag this week.
It’s been said that you should never judge a book by its cover. But in the world of alcohol, sometimes the packaging is everything. A label or bottle shape can be a reliable indicator of what you’re going to find therein — or what you won’t. In fact, a pretty good rule of thumb is that the more intricate bells and whistles involved in the packaging, the more deficiencies it’s trying to cover up (just like people with too much makeup or me with my stupid tattoos). But there are some bottles that ooze sex and satisfy our palates. Here are a few of our picks for the sexiest stuff on the shelves.Last week I explained where you want to drink if you find yourself in Portland, ME for some reason.
Travel too far beyond Boston in search of a drink, and the bar landscape starts to look bleak. It’s like some horrific science-fiction scenario where they’ve installed time portals at city limits, warping us back to a tragic past of flavored vodkas and trendy espresso martinis. But as in any dystopian nightmare, strongholds of resistance endure. Why, we’ve heard rumors of a settlement called “Portland,” about two hours north of here, where the locals have apparently fashioned a primitive drinking culture.