A Tale of Two Newspapers

Well, things are generally going well down here in Boomtown. As Halfz has already reported, the weekend saw efficient German parties, countless beers, and more than a few Vietnamese eateries. My job has been reasonably tolerable, which is all one should really expect, and yesterday my officemate M. explained to me that our energy (whether positive or negative) has been proven to affect the molecular structure of water: "It's all geometry," he explained. "DNA, science, energy. Our bodies are like 90% water, you know? Everything is connected." Indeed.

But as far as utter nonsense goes, I think Jennifer "8." Lee's piece on "The Man Date" from Sunday's NYT Style page takes the cake. Not suprisingly, the article remains the #1 most emailed even now, three days removed from its original publication.

Now, I recall a similar Times piece of an equally silly nature addressing "drunk dialing" -- the practice of getting sloshed and proceeding to call a series of random associates, even well into the wee hours of the morning. This was all well and good -- a harmless if pointless item that was surely of great interest to older New York types, who would have been entirely unaware of such a phenomenon.

However, the piece on "Man Dating" did little else but confirm two things: 1, the Times has hit rock bottom; and 2, an awful lot of men (or at least those quoted in the article) are fucking pathetic.

Ms. 8. Lee writes:

"Cooking for a friend at home violates the man date comfort zone for almost everyone, with a possible exemption for grilling or deep-frying. 'The grilling thing would take away the majority of the stigma because there is a masculine overtone to the grill,' [Rob] Discher said."

Thank God, Halfzie and I are in the clear! While we routinely engage in such acceptable (i.e. non-man-date) activities as watching sports, playing video games, drinking whiskey and/or beer, and talking shop, it is rare indeed that we indulge in such transgressions as sharing a bottle of wine, dining by candlelight, or eating non-grilled vegetable meals.

Meanwhile, I was delighted to find the New York Post for sale this morning on 14th St. as I was getting my morning coffee. Compare Ms. Lee's drivel to this item. Diff'rent Strokes for diff'rent folks, some would say; I'd say a meat-and-potatoes paper for men who not only avoid sharing wine and visits to art galleries with one another, but who also refuse, on principle, to discuss such activities with a "reporter" who uses an Arabic numeral as a middle initial.