New York's newest attraction, a garden built on the remains of an elevated rail line that once carried meat and produce through the industrial neighborhoods of western Manhattan, has officially opened. (Readers unfamiliar with the project are referred to this 2-minute overview here on Youtube.)

A new video is making the rounds on YouTube proclaiming the death of Madison Avenue to the tune of Don McLean’s “American Pie” (sample lyric: “If you splurged on a TV spot,/ your brand could really gain a lot”). The thesis is that long-form, “mass reach” media like television are dead; the future is all about low-budget, viral messages expressed in 140 characters or less. [Editor's note: it's actually a very insightful parody, though clearly over-stated]
At the same time, Newsweek’s Lisa Guernsey writes of the 40th anniversary of Sesame Street, which may be TV’s most enduring series ever. As described in Michael Davis’ “Street Gang” (reviewed for The New York Times by my friend James Panero, who can tell you how to get to Sesame Street because, at age 6, he was there) Sesame Street’s impact has been profound.
Borrowing the techniques of Madison Avenue, the show’s producers combined rigorous audience research with break-through creative thinking to great effect. The show's success demonstrates the power of an "old", linear media like TV, under the right circumstances, to catalyze -- or at least accelerate -- the flow of ideas.
Critics might point to Sesame Street’s recent ratings trajectory -- it now ranks 15th in the category -- as evidence of its obsolescence. But, in my mind, the ratings have more to do with budget cuts -- which have forced the show to cut back on staff and production of new episodes -- than media consumption habits. I know of at least one two-year-old who, if asked how he gets to Sesame Street, will point you to his favorite clips on YouTube.
Related Link: 10 Awesome Moments from Sesame Street
The question we really should be asking is not "are episodic series (and the long-form advertisements that accompany them) irrelevant?" but how can we make them even more relevant and impact-ful than ever?
The New York Times reports that 95 percent of blogs have been abandoned by their creators.
A bit depressing until you think about how many great ideas have been scribbled on Post-It notes, or bar napkins, and lost entirely.
Speaking of Post-It notes, here are some novel uses:
"The New York State steak dinner, or 'beefsteak,' is a form of gluttony as stylized and regional as the riverbank fish fry, the hot-rock clambake, or the Texas barbeque," wrote Joseph Mitchell in his now-classic New Yorker article (ca. 1939).
Until the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment, giving women the right to vote, these dinners were strictly male affairs, usually thrown by or in association with political clubs. Like the German-influenced barbeque still found in areas of Texas today (see Insufficient's earlier posting here), the old New York beefsteak would have foregone amenities like knives, forks, napkins and tablecloths.
"The life of the party at a beefsteak used to be the man who let out the most ecstatic grunts, drank the most beer, ate the most steak, and got the most grease on his ears," wrote Mitchell.
All of this changed in 1920 when the beefsteaks went co-ed and, in Mitchell's telling, "degenerated into polite banquets" with the forced addition of such things as "Manhattan cocktails, fruit cups, and fancy salads to the traditional menu of slices of ripened steaks, double lamb chops, kidneys, and beer by the pitcher."
But entrepreneurialism is still alive and well, at least according to this New Yorker cartoon.
The New York Times reports on the trend toward exposed bathrooms in luxury hotel suites. Designers say they like it because it's open and transparent, fresh and unfamiliar, voyeuristic and exhibitionist - "not the old Ritz Carlton" way.
In irrationally exuberant times, we forget history, believing only in the "new paradigms" of the future. Conversely, in times of distress, we cling gratefully to the past for a modicum of comfort and stability, like the lapbar on a rollercoaster.
I was reminded of this the other day while listening to a Wall Street earnings call where the CEO, a Brit, commented that, as bad as the current situation is, it's not as bad as in the 1970's when the UK had to impose a 3-day work week.
The English can always be counted on to look on the bright side of a recession. See also this Economist article comparing P/E ratios over time . The conclusion: stocks are trading around "fair value" if you take the long view on valuations.
It's not just the business community that's taken a renewed interest in history. According to Google Trends, there's been a major uptick in searches for "Charles Ponzi". Any guesses why that might be?
And, while we're on the subject of putting things into perspective -- although he's not English -- this rant by Louis CK, which originally aired on Conan O'Brien, is worth a look.
Coincidence? Who cares. Yee-haw!
In case you didn't get enough of the bubbly on New Year's Eve, two new books discuss the provenance of fizzy drinks and the colorful characters behind them.
One is a biography of Barbe-Nicole Clicquot Ponsardin, better known as the Widow Clicquot, or La Grande Dame, who in 1805, at age 27, assumed control of a modest vineyard in the Champagne region of France and proceeded to turn it into one of the world's first major, international mega-brands.
The other is Steven Johnson's "The Invention of Air", which tells the story of Joseph Priestely, a prolific 18th century scientist and theologian, whose own "happiest" discovery was the invention of soda water.
Is fizz the new black? Could be.
One appeal is the healing qualities thought to be associated with bubbly drinks. Economics also plays to fizz's favor. During the Great Depression, soda water was known as "two cents plain" - the cheapest drink available at the soda fountain. Indeed, today while Champagne consumption is relatively flat, prosecco sales have been growing by double-digit percentages, reports the New York Times.
Even Paris Hilton is into it...
In search of music for a family holiday party, your correspondent stumbled upon a discussion thread on Gawker featuring dozens of delicious performances from Christmases past, ranging from Muppets to Peanuts, and from Run DMC to Sonny & Cher. There are a lot of guilty pleasures here, even for this season of (over)indulgence. This one is particularly rich:
Food delivery is, for many New Yorkers, as much a regular routine as opening the refrigerator. It may make economic sense, given the high cost of real estate, which makes having a stocked kitchen pantry a luxury for most of us. At least we rationalize it that way.

Photo courtesy of newsriffs's flickr photostream
There have been other attempts to explain this ritual. These have ranged from the sociological (the prevalence of two-job families), to the cultural (the hatred of cooking by yuppies), to the geological (the city is relatively flat, hence good for bicycle delivery men). See, for examples, this article from the archives of the New Yorker.

Photo courtesy of N. Gama's flickr photostream
Some men hit it big by striking gold. In 1948, while cleaning the basement beneath his Memphis diner, Charlie Vergos hit it big by striking coal - or, to be more precise, a coal chute. The rest, as they say, is history.
He expanded from ham-and-cheese sandwiches to ribs, for which the establishment (now run by Charlie's kids) is well known. They also make a mean pork shoulder sandwich, as your correspondent can attest from his recent visit.
The staff, with names like Big Jack, Stinson, Robert Senior and Robert Junior, are nearly as legendary as the food. You can read their bio's and order a few slabs of their world-famous ribs (for delivery via Fedex, another Memphis hometown favorite) on their web site - www.hogsfly.com. It's worth a visit.

Photo courtesy of mycraze's flickr photostream
Has anyone else noticed an increase in the number of raccoons living in Central Park? Go for a jog around the reservoir after dusk and you're almost guaranteed to trip over one.
The city estimates there are "hundreds" of these furry creatures in Central Park, according to this recent New York Times article. At least they keep the rats at bay, and possibly the muggers too.
The town of Leland, Michigan sits on the 45th parallel, halfway between the Equator and the North Pole, just north of Traverse City, the "cherry capital of the world."
It is a picturesque little village located on a sliver of land between Lake Michigan and Lake Leelanau, on the beautiful Leelanau Peninsula. Everything is in within walking distance of Leland's historical district, known as Fishtown:
On a recent August weekend, it was the perfect spot for a traditional summer wedding, filled with lemonade, cherries and lots and lots of corn:
Here are some visitors playing a game of "cornhole", a popular Midwestern pastime (see here for rules and regulations, courtesy of the American Cornhole Association):
And another favorite pastime, roasting 'smores on the shore of Lake Michigan: