Except I’m not sure it works like that

The owners of the Empire State Building are objecting to a proposed 69-story skyscraper that would be built two blocks away. The new building, called 15 Penn Plaza, would go where the Hotel Pennsylvania is currently located, at 32nd Street and 7th Avenue, and would rise to about 1200 feet — or just 25 feet lower than the top floor of the Empire State Building.

And the owners of the Empire State Building are putting up a fight. “New York will have a giant black eye on the world stage for allowing such poor city planning to take the vision of New York and marring it in a billion people’s minds around the world,” said Anthony Malkin, the president of Malkin Holdings, LLC, part owner of the iconic building. “Would you put this building next to the Eiffel Tower? Would you put this building next to London’s Big Ben tower? Would you put an oil derrick next to the Statue of Liberty?”

Matthew Schuerman, WNYC News.

Who knows if this thing will actually get done because obviously 1200-foot skyscraper is a pretty big undertaking, but it’s not exactly an oil derrick. Plus one of Malkin’s examples of iconic beauty — the Eiffel Tower — was denounced as an eyesore when it was first built.

And in living, breathing, growing cities, skylines should be fluid things. I suppose the preservationist urge is always a factor, and so what Malkin and his ilk are doing is just sort of part of the natural progression, but if another skyscraper gets built near or next to the Empire State Building then it will just become, in time, every bit as much a part of what we see when we picture Manhattan.

I happen to love the Empire State Building. Maybe it’s because it’s the first skyscraper I knew, and the central one in the city I grew up near. But to me it seems perfectly befitting its name, like the architectural epitome of the American Empire. Wham. Here I am. Yield to my awesomeness.

But from the certain angles on the Jersey Turnpike it does look a bit lonely. Not sure how the proposed Penn Plaza building will affect that, nor do I know how I feel about the building — it’s hard to get a good sense from the renderings, but it certainly doesn’t look inexplicably awesome like this. We will probably find out, I suppose:

It’s too bad this thing’s not real, because otherwise I’d be on my way to try one right now

Some fellow named Me Gusta at Brain Residue created a minor Internet stir today with a phony KFC test sandwich, the Skinwich, purportedly five layers of fried chicken skin with american cheese and bacon on a bun.

If the name weren’t enough to give away the hoax, the guy made it pretty clear by saying that test stores were located on Colbert Blvd. in Ekaf, Maine, the corner of Third and Twain in Tihsllub, Oklahoma, and on Dense St. in Eritas, California. Read the town names backwards.

Furthermore, anyone with any good sense should realize that KFC would never put out a sandwich like that without some sort of special sauce on it. That should give up the joke immediately.

Nonetheless, it’s a funny idea for a delicious-sounding sandwich, made all the more hilarious by the guy’s scathing writeup. The sandwich looks like this:

Straight up, that thing looks amazing. Maybe a little too good, really — like the product shot of the Skinwich, not like the Skinwich you’d actually get if you went to KFC and ordered it. Anyway, shame they’re not really making this thing because it’s practically begging for a TedQuarters review.

Also, and perhaps funniest of all, some clever asshat at Geekologie didn’t get the joke and wrote a whole post ripping the thing.

Just some stuff about ancient Inca rope language

One tradition requires the villagers to murmur invocations during the bone-chilling night to the deified mountains surrounding Rapaz, asking for the clouds to let forth rain. Then they peer into burning llama fat and read how its sparks fly, before sacrificing a guinea pig and nestling it in a hole with flowers and coca.

Simon Romero, N.Y. Times.

Pretty fascinating story from the Times about the struggle to decipher khipus, ancient Inca woven knots that some believe may have been that society’s secret to communication without written language.

Basically, there are these ropes with a series of intricately woven knots in them. A bunch of ancient towns have a bunch of these ropes, but no one knows how to read them anymore, in part because the Spanish colonials stamped them out. There are some that are used for math, but those are a different thing, apparently.

It’s not mentioned in the article and I’m sure the people working on it are smart enough to figure this out, but I wonder if there’s greater variance in the dialects, so to speak, of the ropes than there would have been in written languages in other ancient societies since the Incas didn’t have the wheel. Doesn’t it seem like that would make everything go a little slower, so the rope-language change a little bit more from town to town? Just a thought.

Also, and I mean no disrespect: Really, Inca civilization? No written language and no wheel? I mean, I totally appreciate what you’ve done with the llama, and I understand Macchu Picchu is about the most beautiful place in the world, but, you know, seriously?

Loathsome hipster sleeping on your couch throws alley-oop pass to corporation hellbent on thought control

“I think cutting down on physical commodities in general might be a trend of my generation – cutting down on physical commodities that can be replaced by digital counterparts will be a fact,” said Mr Sutton.

The tech-savvy Los Angeles “transplant” credits his external hard drives and online services like iTunes, Hulu, Flickr, Facebook, Skype and Google Maps for allowing him to lead a minimalist life.

“I think the shift to all digital formats in all methods and forms of media consumption is inevitable and coming very quickly,” said Mr Sutton.

Matthew Danzico, BBC News.

I’ll fully admit that I’m a little bit paranoid. Not like tinfoil-hat paranoid, just like a guy who has read 1984 and Fahrenheit 451 and spent a lot of time thinking about how it all could go wrong.

So articles like this one, about the new and pretentious so-called 21st-Century Minimalists, freak me out a bit. The piece highlights a growing number of people who have parted with all their old-media possessions to go all-digital, including at least a few that tossed their apartments out with their DVD collections, preferring the enormously presumptuous route of crashing on people’s couches.

And look: I realize this (outside of the drifter thing) is the direction the world is going and its sort of silly to fight it. Eventually I’ll have a Kindle or an iPad or something like it, and most of the books I own will be in electronic format even if I love the feeling of making progress through pages in print.

But since many of the largest entities putting books online are corporations — beholden to different standards than schools or the government — what happens as we begin depending on eBooks more and more? What if Google wins a bunch of lawsuits and someday completes the Google Books project and we become reliant on it? Then we’re at their mercy, and if Google decides to move into Phase 2 and start working on thought control then, well, whoops.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I just still think there’s value in having something actually exist in some hard form of media, if only for posterity.

Also I didn’t even mention how desperately the guy quoted above is begging to be plugged into The Matrix. OK, bro, you want a fully digital existence? You got it. Now you’re powering Keanu Reeves’ war against the machines.

From the TedQuarters mailbag

Bryan writes:

Hey Ted, you ever think about doing a mailbag feature? I know it’s kind of become a Bill Simmons trademark, but I feel like the TedQuarters mailbag would be hilarious. Maybe you could call it something else, put your own spin on it . . . I would be stoked to read such a post/series.

Well here you go. I thought about making this entire mailbag post consist of emails from readers requesting mailbag posts because a very high percentage of my reader emails do just that. I’m totally down — actually, I’ve done this once before. It’s just that I kind of space out and respond directly to most of my emails instead of posting responses here. My bad.

(And if I don’t respond ever, then that’s a double my-bad. I try to get to everything. Problem is I get a ton of emails — not because I’m special, just because I’m on a ton of silly distribution lists. So if I don’t reply it’s probably because your email came between a Red Bulls press release and a flurry of quote sheets from the Giants.)

There’s a contact form on the site now and a lot of you have been using that, so keep it up and I’ll do more of these. And please, feel free to send forth any random questions you’d like. I have opinions on nearly everything and I’m willing to formulate opinions on everything else. And tips to awesome stuff. I really appreciate tips to awesome stuff.

As for a name, I don’t know. I went with the above title because I couldn’t come up with anything more clever on a Friday afternoon. And as for my own spin, I’m not sure. My own spin is that I write it, I think. So it will most likely contain stuff about Taco Bell. Speaking of:

Catsmeat (who has a real name) writes:

I finally had my crack at the carnitas from Taco Bell.  Sorely disappointed and, frankly, a little grossed out.  It was a lot like the picture you posted on the blog — a nasty mess.  They even skipped out on the corn tortillas and left me with the regular flour tortilla, which was quite a travesty.  I’m also not impressed that I asked for carnitas and the girl looked at me and said: “Do you want the steak, pork or chicken carnitas?”  Sigh, Taco Bell.  Sigh.

Dude, our experiences could not have been more similar. Honestly, I’ve been mustering up the strength to write about the carnitas cantina taco for a couple weeks now, but it was just so underwhelming that I haven’t found the time.

Basically, it was exactly what Seth “Ted” Samuels described. Maybe worse. A pile of flavorless, unpleasant-smelling stringy pork in some sort of goo, overwhelmed by the onion salsa on top. Unlike Catsmeat, I got the appropriate corn tortillas, but they were dry, spongy and also flavorless.

And I also had trouble ordering! I figured it was because my local Taco Bell is the worst Taco Bell in the world, but Catsmeat has previously boasted a good local Taco Bell. Yikes. You’d think Taco Bell would have its employees adequately prepared to serve such a revolutionary new product. But the voice on the other end of the drive-thru menu acted like it had never even heard of the Carnitas Cantina Taco before. Also “Carnitas Cantina Taco” is very difficult to say.

Honestly, I didn’t even finish the thing. That is a terrible, terrible sign for a Taco Bell product. I even polished off the Pacific Shrimp Taco when I took it out for a test drive, even though it wasn’t exactly my thing. Plus — like always — the Volcano Taco I ordered came in a plain, yellow crunchy taco shell.

I really don’t even know what’s going on down there. I’m concerned that standards have slipped since the passing of Glen Bell.

Danny writes:

There’s some funky building in the works in Taiwan, with strange bulges in and out of it. And it’s called…TED!

Holy crap, what is that thing? I don’t know, but I know it’s awesome. The link within the link mentions that it’s “evocative of a mushroom,” and I’d say, ahh, which kind do you mean there, Mr. Huxley?

Also that ampitheater on top? Probably a badass place to take in a show, except that the renderings alone make my head hurt. Plus there’s almost no way that thing’s not going to leak. Whatever, that’s fine. Awesomeism in architecture never called for any sort of utilitarian design. It’s the opposite of that.

Wait a minute, hold on. Team Ted co-founder Ted Burke points out that this has to be some sort of practical joke: The design firm’s website is big.dk.

Catfish Collins, 1944-2010

The man responsible for one of my favorite recorded guitar solos passed away last week. Not crazy flashy or anything, but funky as all get-out. Dude could do a whole lot with one note. This concert — James Brown’s “Love Power Peace” at the Olympia in Paris — is definitely my favorite live album, FWIW:

#BLOCKED!

I banned my first commenter today. Pretty exciting stuff.

A few people suggested I do so a while back, but I resisted for a number of reasons. I welcome feedback and enjoy seeing comments on my work — a luxury I was never really afforded on the SNY.tv columns — so I intentionally made it as easy as possible for people to comment when I started up this blog. I’m not out to muzzle anybody, even straight-up trolls.

Plus I have a reasonably thick skin and I like giving people an open forum, so I figured if some banned MetsBlog commenter believes he has unlocked the dark secrets to the SNY.tv empire, you know what, go to town in my comments section, bro.

But for some reason, the allegation that my post earlier this afternoon was “hacky” bothered me. I imagine, if pressed, Ryan would say that the Mets absolutely must go out and get Cliff Lee and insist that my post was a Wilpon-driven effort to excuse them from doing so.

Problem is, I honestly think signing Cliff Lee — a 32-year-old pitcher — to a lengthy and expensive deal is a bad idea regardless of it the Mets can afford it and no matter how awesome Lee is right now.

Look: Maybe by now you realize this, but I’m a contrarian by nature. When everyone’s all puppydogs and daffodils about the Mets, I present skepticism. When everyone’s gloomy, I provide some optimism. It’s not a conscious thing, it’s just the way I am. I have no idea why. I went to a stuffy college and became something of a hippie. If I went to a hippie college I probably would’ve started tucking my shirt in.

So this morning’s post — and I really shouldn’t even bother defending it — aimed merely to provide some perspective given all the doom-and-gloom around the blogosphere about the Mets’ payroll stuff. Ryan’s assertion that it was something other than that finally got to me.

When I first started subbing — for some reason my old jobs keep coming up here lately — the teachers I was replacing would always provide a big stack of worksheets to give out to students. I know other subs would yell at kids and force ’em to sit quietly and do their assignment, but that wasn’t my style — I just wasn’t nearly that invested in it.

So my approach was to hand out the worksheets and be forthright: I’d tell students that I didn’t really care if they did them or didn’t, but that I had instructions to collect them at the end of the class. And I’d say, “Look: I’m not here to get you in trouble and I imagine you’re not here to get me in trouble, so everybody just be cool.”

With high schoolers, it worked almost every time. They would sit, usually chatting quietly but rarely getting out of control, and at the end of the period a bunch of them would hand in their worksheets and the rest, I guess, would explain it to their teachers later.

With middle schoolers, the approach failed miserably. Middle schoolers are bastards. They cannot be reasoned with and they are incapable of just being cool. They would yell and throw things and choke each other and then I’d have to yell back and write them up.

My approach to comments on this blog has always been similar: Everybody just be cool. And it has worked. Everybody is cool. There are active discussions and interesting arguments and everyone keeps the tone respectful. It’s great and I am hugely appreciative.

But Ryan had the maturity level of the middle schoolers. And I grew at least a little concerned that some would confuse him with the O.G. commenter Ryan, one of the brightest and funniest people who comments on this blog.

So everybody else, continue being cool. And you’re welcome to doubt my motivations all you want, no matter how often I insist I am being open and honest. Just do it in some productive fashion, or try to add at least a little bit of humor or originality to the mix.

Except you, Ryan, you don’t have that option. You’re banned. Farewell. I will miss your pageviews.

“At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.”