I’ll be the first to admit that the probably-expired yogurt in my fridge has more culture than I do. I barely made it out of Art History 101 alive, the first thing that comes to mind when I hear the word “symphony” is the candy bar, and most of my exposure to opera has come in the form of commercials for canned ravioli. That’s not to say that I don’t consume massive amounts of culture on the daily — it’s just not the classy, smart-people-at-an-erudite-cocktail-party kind. It’s more the kind with Jason Statham.
I felt a little out of my league during a recent visit to the Barnes Foundation, which is approaching its second anniversary in its controversial new space on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway. Not having visited the original Merion location prior to its relocation, I was wowed by the intricacies of the idiosyncratic layout of each room, to say nothing of the tremendous work itself.
Of course, since I know very little about any of the incredibly important artists represented in the collection, I felt my brain turning the reins over to the neurons responsible for rotting it. I began noting every portrait that bore even the slightest resemblance to a dumb celebrity or personality, writing the names of the pieces down in my notebook with a pen, until security flexed on me and insisted I use a tiny golf pencil instead. The results are laid out for you after the jump.
I was having fun, but I felt like a total moron — but then I overheard a tourist telling his wife that the dark, disturbing work of morose expressionist Chaim Soutine reminded him of Rod Serling’s Night Gallery. We immediately became best friends, forever, in my head.
I’m sorry Dr. Barnes.
Meet the Barnes Foundation’s Celebrity Twinsies »
Just eight days into his life, Waldo James Mysterious Dwyer has already touched down on three continents, and no one will be surprised if the baby checks off the other four by week’s end. The Internet-aided spread of the suddenly mythic newborn, born here in Delaware County to Philly parents, is an odd and impressive testament to both the porous copycat nature of the Internet and humanity’s unending fascination with anything, or anyone, awesomely large.
How 13-Pound Philly Baby Waldo James Mysterious Dwyer Conquered the World »
A few weeks ago, after tipping back a few too many beers, a friend of mine opened up about his girlfriend and their loving but altogether contentious long-term relationship. The one constant? Non-stop arguing over topics big and small (mostly small). Though they’re rarely super-serious, purée-each-other’s-emotions heavyweight bouts, the scraps are consistent enough to merit front-and-center billing on the cute, weird Pinterest board that is their romantic life.
Talking, and drinking, about it helped him come to a realization.
“Dude,” he said, eyes bugging in terror like he’d just spotted the crest of Godzilla’s head rising from the bay. “I think she actually likes fighting.”
This got me thinking about two local groups whom I’ve long suspected secretly get kicks out of battling each other: Philadelphia’s motorists and Philadelphia’s bicyclists. Now that the weather’s finally broken, plenty of locals are pumping their tires and greasing their chains in preparation for three full seasons of city biking. And just as quickly as the bipedal crowd has emerged from the freeze, so too have the bad attitudes. Bikers screaming at drivers! Drivers screaming at bikers! Pedestrians screaming at both of them! Quick, everyone — corner the urbanite closest to you and tell them how much they fucking suck!
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Photo | Charles Sykes/Invision/AP
Early this week, word leaked that Live Nation and Jay Z were exploring the possibility of bringing the Made in America festival to Los Angeles, sparking a hearty dose of conversation rabble-rabble-rabbling over the prospect of 50,000 people in Deadmau5 heads scurrying all over the city’s revitalized downtown.
L.A. mayor Eric Garcetti’s office seems stoked on the possibility of the two-day concert, which, if it happens, will reportedly run in tandem with Philly’s event over Labor Day weekend this year. The director of Grand Park, which would serve as MiALA’s home base, described Hova’s involvement as “pretty rad.” (Aw, California.) But the proposal has earned the ire of city councilman Jose Huizar, who’s raised formal concerns about all the issues that arise when you deliberately invite a bunch of people who like molly to the same place at the same time.
All kidding aside, the fact that MiA targeted Philly in the first place is a big civic compliment, and there are numerous positives to consider. In its two years, the public opinion surrounding MiA has shifted significantly — many who cried surefire shitshow from the beginning came out impressed by the fest’s execution, not to mention the economic booster shot and six-figure sum ticket sales raised for charity (the United Way, last year). But an event of this magnitude also has its problems, and now that we’ve got two in the books and Bud has said it wants to host the fest here for the foreseeable future, we’re well-qualified to discuss them.
Here’s a small sampling of what Angelenos should expect if we become music festival eskimo brothers.
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“When I’m walking with friends, they tell me it’s a little awkward for them,” says Frank Danay. “They’re the ones standing next to the guy who’s in the gutter taking pictures.”
Danay’s buddies know better than to compromise the process. He’s simply chronicling another day of potassium-rich existence on the streets of Philadelphia, an apparent national leader in the field of wayward banana peels.
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Philadelphia, like most cities populated by smartphone users with a little too much time to kill, boasts a thriving Instagram community, and its members are not afraid to show off their surroundings.
We have the pleasure of living in a photogenic town, rich with opportunities to pic-share stuff more interesting than dashboard thermometer shots and butchered Starbucks cup names. But with so many active ‘grammers out there flexing their Valencia, Sutro and Earlybird skills, it’s only natural that some shots are cropping up more frequently than others.
Here, in no particular order, is a rundown of the Philly-centric Instagram shots I come across the most. Let me preface this roundup by stating for the record that I’m personally guilty of most, if not all, of these moves. Now join me in celebrating the Philly Instagram Hall of Fame’s inaugural class.
See Drew Lazor’s Philly Instagram Hall of Fame after the jump »
Begone with your Punxsutawney guesswork and horticulture-based projections — this super-beautiful weekend has me convinced that spring is precariously close to sprung. I base this not on unreliable barometers like “scientific weather data” and “experts who know what they’re talking about” — instead, it’s the pure power of Philly observation that’s informed this airtight conclusion. After the jump, 20 excuses to check out mentally 20 reasons why I think we’re ready to leave this shitty winter behind, once and for all (more or less).
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Photo | Jeff Fusco
Philly doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to negligibly constructed rankings of American towns. For three consecutive years, we came up dead last in the “attractive people” category of Travel + Leisure‘s “America’s Favorite Cities.” (We’ve since risen a few spots — suck it, Anchorage.) Our airport stinks. We’re pretty dirty. Apparently, we suck at saving money — but we’re top 10 in infidelity!
It’s my hope that most people take these types of pieces for what they are — silly, link-baity barroom argument fodder, built with data collection processes that are easy to overlook in favor of the punchline. (Take The Echo Nest’s super-viral “most distinctive artist by state” roundup, which many have taken in passing to mean that Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros is Pennsylvania’s most popular band.) Still, regardless of their value, there are a number of city-list features that either low-rank or completely skip over Philly, and we should be damn happy about it. Here are just a few:
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As I recently discovered during an innocuous search for Thor GIFs, Tumblr can be a mind-altering place, populated by obsessive, combative Internet users who specialize in off-putting fan art, grainy photos of people drinking coffee in bed and ludicrously detailed theory writing about the CW show Supernatural. But it’s also a repository for some incredible stuff! Like adorable dogs who paint to raise money for animal charities and that’s all I’ve got at the moment. Perusing Tumblr is a bit like spelunking without a headlamp — for every awesome stalagmite garden you uncover, you’re bound to endure at least two to three flesh-eating troglodyte attacks.
There’s also some excellent local representation on the blogging site that might not be well-exposed to non-Tumblr users, since you can’t wade through the tags and archives without a login. Here are five Philly-centric pages to check out that, to my knowledge, will not chill you to your vulnerable core. Remember that this is just a small fraction of worthy local Tumblrs — don’t hesitate to link up more in the comments.
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Illustration by Melissa McFeeters
Most bags of beans feature their “roast date,” which is vital to your brew. “Under the two-week mark is the ‘Goldilocks zone,’” says Ultimo Coffee’s Aaron Ultimo. “After that, it starts to taste dirty and it starts to taste boring.” Never ask for your beans to be pre-ground unless “you plan on literally using all of that coffee within the same day or less,” says Lilly Vamberi of Federal Donuts.
Spend low on a brewer.
For home brewing, pros are fond of affordable pour-over tools, such as a Chemex, Bee House or Hario V60, that rely on gravity for quick brews; Bodhi Coffee’s Tom Henneman is fond of the classic French press. If you’re set on a dripper, One Shot’s Melissa Baruno suggests a Bonavita, which brews with multiple streams of water.
Spend high on a grinder.
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