You'd think that online shopping would have eliminated our need for catalogs, but according to the New Yorker, Americans receive nearly 12 billion catalogs a year—the worst of which is from Restoration Hardware, which has the door-stopping weight of 17 pounds and the ire of UPS delivery people. Most of the catalogs end up in the recycling bin, and are considered a waste of energy and resources.
Andrew Solomon writes for the New Yorker's Currency blog about Honey Maid's new ad campaign, and when following the ad money means that in some states, advertising is more progressive than public policy. I think Solomon puts it best here: "I’d prefer that people such as I get our rights because we command respect and evince dignity, but if we get them because there’s money in it, that’s fine."
In today's edition of Convenient Theories for Me, Weekly, Adam Alter at the New Yorker's Currency blog outlines why 'thinking positive' tricks your brain into complacency and keeps you from achieving your dreams:
In the New Yorker, Maria Konnikova looks at the research behind procrastination and finds that those of us who are most likely to procrastinate have impulsive tendencies, or a lack of self-control—which makes sense.
Malls are dying, or so claim certain real estate barons quoted on the New Yorker's Currency blog this week.
Adrienne Raphel has a really lovely profile of Klaus Teuber, a dental technician from Darmstadt, Germany who designed games in his basement during his spare time. One of those games ended up taking off and later designated by Wired as "The Monopoly Killer." Teuber's game: The Settlers of Catan, which I've only gotten to play once but found it really fun.
Okay fine I am going to watch this documentary. While applying one of the thousands Burt's Bees products I get in my stocking for Christmas every year and then never use, because chapstick is a scam.
“Welcome to the paradise of the modern artist.” – An Interview With Tom Toro, ‘New Yorker’ Cartoonist
I met Tom in English class during my sophomore year of high school, and we became acquaintances and occasional friends. Mostly, I had a crush on him. After high school, I moved out of the Bay Area and to the East Coast, where I received sporadic updates on high school friends from my good friend Julia. She mentioned something about Tom drawing for the New Yorker, a piece of information I filed away until I saw this cartoon posted on Facebook.