Last night, I was waiting in line for the bathroom in the basement of Pianos, a popular hangout in the Lower East Side of Manhattan for, among others, college-aged Asian girls posing as semi-literate meth heads (description courtesy of Vin Dee of Arbor Day), when I observed one of the most absurd debates I expect to encounter during this election year. The exchange was between a white college-aged kid wearing standard New York club-going attire and a Latino guy. Neither were typical clientele of the club, which is known, even in the Lower East Side, for being particularly hipster-rific.

Let me tell you a story—not too many months ago, a creative writing professor gave me some “truth hurts, kiddo,” criticism.

In the profile of Miuccia Prada that appeared in last week’s New Yorker, Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas deconstructs and theorizes upon the nature of shopping. "Shopping," he says, "used to be an autonomous entity with its own metabolism, but over the past twenty years it has infiltrated almost every activity known to man..."

One of my Chemistry teachers once insisted that if you drank a glass of mercury and waited, you could piss it out. Urban legend or amazing feat? You decide.

Men’s college basketball died in 1995. At least that is the consensus you might glean from the wailings of some coaches and sportswriters as they lament the P.G. (post-Garnett) era.

Writer’s note: I typed this thing before seeing Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and then after I saw it I felt scooped. So don’t get hung-up about it, just be fascinated by how much all this stuff is in the ether, as they say.