VIEW: EXPANDEDLIST 

Archive for August, 2005

08.30.2005

A Laser Is A Terrible Thing to Waste


Originally, Nike came up with laser technology for the sake of performance, to cut out a few inessential parts of running shoes and shave a few extra micrograms of mass in the process. Now they’ve deployed this innovation on the new Air Jordan XX’s “lace cover,” which is coated in doodles of swooshes, Jumpmen, and wild tribal swirlimagigs of the sort you may have seen gracing fraternity biceps and second-rate energy drinks. “A history lesson in a shoe,” is what Nike calls it. We call it hiding the cake underneath too much icing. Nike is supposed to be selling shoes that get the job done, or at least the idea of shoes that get the job done, and all these ornaments freak us out. The buyer should be allowed to doodle on his own shoes to suit his own personal Jordan symbolism, if he wishes. Shoes with pre-made Jordan doodles are as creepy as fighter jets that come with angry fire-breathing sharks painted on the fuselage. Leave that to the soldiers.

History is Ugly


08.23.2005

The Tower of Tomato


Cousin’s Supermarket at 5th and Berks understands that it takes more than a ten-for-a-dollar special to sell a can of tomato paste. It takes a thoughtful application of one of the oldest laws of retail: If you build it, they will come. In other words, make a giant, tiered tower of whatever it is you’re selling and the customer won’t be able to go home without first buying a small piece of your edifice. Buying Goya at Cousin’s makes you feel like an astronaut returning with a priceless moonrock, or a tourist coming home from Germany with your own little piece of the Berlin Wall. No wonder Goya has given Cousin’s the honor of being the last supermarket in the city to carry Sofrito. Sofrito is a tasty red sauce that you mix with rice and beans. We’re going to go have some right now, thank you.


08.22.2005

The Suspenders Are Killing Us


We weren’t even going to report on the return of casual suspenders. We were worried, after touting cufflinks and fedoras, that our longtime Vulture readers would accuse us of milking the fashions of antiquity. Then we saw a young suspendered man in a camouflage shirt crossing Broad Street, his beard neatly trimmed over mocha skin, and we knew that if we waited but another day to deliver this report to you, it would be a day too late. Such is the speed with which these things move from the street to the web these days.

Never judge a man by the color of his suspenders.


08.19.2005

Three Theories of Everything


The world may indeed be getting bigger but the books are getting smaller, with writers devoting years to researching the history of salt, the taming of the screw, the state of suburbia as told to the houseplant, what the lowly minivan has to tell us about globalization, etc. This leaves us hankering for the ancient days, when one learned man could tee off on the whole gamut of human thought in a single volume. But the big world, it would seem, has killed off the big book.

Or has it? Here are links to three 20th century scholars who brazenly refused to see their theories sold in miniature form. First we’ve got Chris Alexander, who got started finding the math in rug designs, then instructed young hippie couples in homebuilding, and just now finally published his four-volume magnum opus which begins with hard math and science and works its way up through architecture and ethics to metaphysics and cosmology. Then there’s Ivan Illich, who, thirty years before Wi-Fi precociously hated on all things fast. And finally there’s Bucky Fuller, a scientist who wasn’t afraid to write in plain English and work way, way outside his specialty.

To government-issue nerds like Milton Friedman and Stephen Hawking, this adventurous trio of foxes must seem like the dilettantes in the back of the coffee shop, manically scribbling in their notebooks and ranting at the sort of curious and uniformed people who will listen to such blather. People like us.

Christopher Alexander Ivan Illich Buckminster Fuller


08.17.2005

Pagers Are the Old Cellphones


The Vulture has a pager. It costs $82 for the whole year. That includes the pager itself, the activation fee, and all the pages we can page. We’ve heard that some people pay that much for their cell phones every month!

Can the Vulture Pager be considered a trend? Funny you should ask. Why yes, our pager embodies at least three trends:

1. The display of highly conspicuous thrift.

2. The use of old, redundant technology to avoid being paralyzed by a continuous information stream.

3. The willful inconveniencing of others.

4. The Cartesian method of trendspotting, in which the trendspotter genuflects on and rationalizes his own consumption patterns, and then assumes they’re slightly ahead of the rest of the world.

The Great Pager Vs. Cellphone Debate
Neat Lobster Pagers—For Restaurant Use Only!