TUNDRANAUTICA

Bringing Home the Freshest Kill

Posts in the New York category

Vladimir Potanin, Russian businessman

  • Daniel Kalder: “The other day I read that some Russian oligarch or other had paid $95,000 to a restaurateur in New York for a bit of fungus. Well, a fool and his money, as they say. Alright, it wasn’t just any old bit of fungus. Apparently it was a ‘white alba truffle’ – a special fungus that is quite difficult to find. And you can eat it. Meanwhile, this bit of fungus weighed about 4lb so it was quite heavy, for a fungus. According to Nello Balan, the man who says he sold the oligarch the fungus, it was the biggest such bit of fungus in the history of fungi, or something. So there you go: Clearly this bit of fungus was worth every penny. Except, I’m still not convinced. Then again, if I were Vladimir Potanin, the oligarch who bought the fungus, I probably wouldn’t care. I looked him up and discovered that he is Russia’s fourth richest man – worth around $14.3 billion,according to Forbes. That being the case, this purchase for him is the equivalent of me buying a Snickers bar – not particularly extravagant.”
  • Neko Case interview: “At 10, I just loved FM radio: I listened to KMJK Magic FM because I was living on the outskirts of Portland, Oregon, and they played the Pretenders, the Clash, 10cc, Blondie.”
  • Pink-Shaded Marketing: “Research suggests that the NFL and its corporate partners are more concerned with enhancing their public images — especially among women — and ultimately revenues, than they are with addressing breast cancer, and they seek to manipulate NFL fandom in the name of public health.”
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Polski: Wektorowa podobizna Stevena Seagala

KAZAN. Sabantui, a Tatar festival.

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Shift has the details at Street Carnage.

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PORTLAND!

What city is more smug than ours?

If you said Seattle as recently as 3-to-4 years ago, you’d still be right.

But these days, Portland is King of the Hill as far as smugness goes. Granted, I’ve never been to, say, Brooklyn — and I’m sure it’s smug there too — but it can’t possibly be as bad as it is here. In New York, you still have a solid bedrock of tough, hard-working people who have lived through disappointment, frustration and pain and emerged with greater strength of character.

Not so here!

We are beset by condescending, privileged twerps.

Just look at the following photo, for Chrissakes, snapped secretly by a friend at the airport the other day. It’s two garden-variety Portlanders. For all I know, they might be wonderful people. Salt of the fucking earth.

[image missing]

But nearly EVERYONE in town looks just like them. Ironic clothing…ironic eye-ware…the same old tiresome song.

To be clear, I have no problem with anyone’s personal aesthetics. I frequently see Portlanders dressed up as pirates, and though I don’t think of them in positive terms, I spend no mental currency on their place in this world. Honestly, smug Portlanders — I couldn’t care less if your wardrobe personifies indie-rock cliche. When it’s all said and done, you’re just another jerk I’ll go out of my way to ignore.

Here’s the rub though: these wiry, unfruitful clods don’t simply ignore others. NO! They sneer and scoff at anyone who doesn’t fit their DIY Cool Person Template.

It has steadily gotten worse in the 10 years I’ve lived here. It’s one effed-up milieu of shit.

More than ever, the city is teeming with unoriginal, emaciated oafs who wear tight brown pants and sing loudly to themselves at the bus stop.

Such individuals.

I try hard to avoid the cliche of misanthropy. Misanthropy is an easy emotion. But the oppressiveness of the cool Portland alpha culture has reached an intolerable apex. I can’t count the number of times I’ve looked up from reading my book on the bus and some skateboarder fuckwad was glaring (or smirking) at me because my dress shirt and slacks didn’t ooze awesome-fucking-street-cred.

These days, the forecast consistently calls for a torrent of fist-showers…on the faces of Portland “creatives!”

O! I wish to pummel these creatures.

If there was but one day a year when I could rain blows upon their smug faces w/o fear of legal reproach!

O!

What happy times those would be, friend!

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