With Buzzfeed announcing a fresh $15.5 million in funding today, on top of its previous $11.5 million in funding, all web properties should stop and ask themselves: what would you do with that cash? We already have it planned!

• office radio with AM and FM.

• tiny house collection in the middle of the office’s sculpture courtyard.

• a “sympathy big board,” displaying only least-viewed blog posts.

• Ben Smith’s younger, weirder cousin from Ditmas Park, Yaniv Smith.

• an actual awl.

• basement meth lab (because media companies just becoming tech companies is very 2011; 2012 is about dreaming bigger).

• a fearsome, extremely pretty, trilingual and totally useless secretary to be cruel and witty to visitors — preferably Jessica Joffe.

• multimedia vacation autoresponders!

• one each of the Romney brothers and the Huntsman sisters.

• a pancake machine.

• a team of twenty developers to work day and night to create an easy css hack that allows you to flow text between multiple divs in a CMS that also works in IE, because what the heck, how is this even still a thing?

• paywall, obvs.

• wet bar.

• raw bar.

Once again: For this particular annual death pool (now in its fourth year!), points are awarded for each “correctly” chosen person at a rate of 100 minus age at death. This may account for some skewing youthward. There were 31 entries this year.

Last year, the pool correctly predicted the deaths of Kim Jong-il (13 lists), Elizabeth Taylor (13 lists), Amy Winehouse (10 lists), Steve Jobs (6 lists), Christopher Hitchens (5 lists) and Gerry Rafferty (4 lists). It was wrong in the cases of Michael Douglas (37 lists), Aretha Franklin (32 lists), Lindsay Lohan (17 lists) and a whole bunch more. So then, who will “mark” this year?

Bill Jankow: 3 lists
Bob Barker: 3 lists
Ethan Zohn: 3 lists
Fidel Castro: 3 lists
Gary Carter: 3 lists
Michael Lohan: 3 lists
Prince Philip: 3 lists
Queen Elizabeth II: 3 lists
Roger Ebert: 3 lists

Abdelbaset Mohmed Ali al-Megrahi: 4 lists
Courtney Love: 4 lists
Dick Clark: 4 lists
Gary Busey: 4 lists
George Michael: 4 lists
Hugo Chávez: 4 lists
Joe Paterno: 4 lists
Margaret Thatcher: 4 lists
Pete Doherty: 4 lists
Whitney Houston: 4 lists

Billy Graham: 5 lists
Kirk Douglas: 5 lists

Dick Cheney: 6 lists
Michael Douglas: 6 lists

Nancy Reagan: 7 lists
Penny Marshall: 7 lists
Robin Gibb: 7 lists

Lindsay Lohan: 9 lists
Muhammad Ali: 9 lists

Charlie Sheen: 10 lists

Aretha Franklin: 11 lists
Zsa Zsa Gabor: 11 lists

Etta James: 16 lists

Rick Paulas really, literally, could not have done this without the assistance of Excel spreadsheet wizard m. berru.

NFL Wildcard Weekend Sonnet Picks

Saturday, January 7

At Houston -3 Cincinnati 38.5

The Texans have finally won the South
Mostly because Peyton Manning is out.
And their quarterback is now injured, too.
Leaving their offense completely askew.
Receiver Andre Johnson is healthy.
Running back Arian Foster’s stealthy.
But who will be their starting quarterback?
Rookie T. J. Yates will lead the attack.
The Bengals turn to a rookie as well
And Andy Dalton has been pretty swell.
Rookie A.J. Green is a Pro Bowler
But the Bengals play kind of bi-polar.
They tend to be their own worst enemy
And three points just isn’t enough for me.
PICK: TEXANS, THE UNDER

At New Orleans -10.5 Detroit 59

The Lions are back in the playoff rounds
And optimism in Detroit abounds.
But the Saints team is totally complete
Their offense will be very tough to beat.
And their defense is underrated
They get penetration unabated.
The Lions do well coming from behind
And the score may be ugly at halftime.
But redemption from Ndamukong Suh
May leave Drew Brees feeling terribly blue.
The Superdome is a tough place to play
The Lions must keep Jimmy Graham at bay.
Throw early and often to Megatron
And maybe it will be them who march on.
PICK: LIONS, THE OVER

Sunday, January 8

At NY Giants -3 Atlanta 47.5

Who can say which Giants team will show up?
Was their late-season swoon a small hiccup?
Their defensive line is quite impressive.
Jason Pierre-Paul is so aggressive!
Also Justin Tuck is healthy for once!
But Antrel Rolle is such a giant ponce!
Their secondary is intensely weak.
They rank 29th when teams do pass deep.
And but for one bad play in overtime
The Falcons might have had a first-round bye.
Matt Ryan and his strong passing assault
Might be fit to expose the G-Men’s faults.
The wind may howl at Met Life Stadium
Can Manning get Cruz to tango for him?
PICK: FALCONS, THE UNDER

Pittsburgh -8.5 At Denver 33.5

The story of the year has been Tebow.
He has been the savior of the Broncos.
They will only go as far as he goes,
Depending on him for more miracles.
But the Steelers are battle-tested,
and their injured players should be rested.
They are without Rashard Mendenhall,
Will they be able to run the football?
Roethlisberger is an elusive guy.
In the pocket he is profoundly spry.
There’s almost zero chance he’ll take a sack
And he can always bring the Steelers back.
The Steel Curtain D is great but old.
Will they want to chase Tebow in the cold?
PICK: BRONCOS, THE UNDER

Haiku Picks went 126–127–7 in the regular season.

Jim Behrle tweets at @behrle for your possible amusement.

“The symptoms of this malady, named after the longtime editor of Harper’s, Lewis H. Lapham (now of Lapham’s Quarterly), include an elevated, orotund, deeply ironic prose style that, in severe cases, reveals almost nothing about what the topic is or what the author wishes to say about it except for a general sense of superiority to everyone and everything around.”
 — Michael Kinsley, who both succeeded and preceded Lewis Lapham as editor of Harper’s, explains “Lapham’s Disease.” The diagnosis does not appear to be new.

“I want to start a family in the next 4ish years. BUT, we aren’t engaged (we have been together 5+ years, he knows I want to get married and have a family but he’s not ready yet) so it’s not like we are going to have kids soon…. My boyfriend is going car shopping with me on Saturday and he has promised to take the back seat as it were and let me make my own decision. I feel like I am being super emotional about this whole thing and I don’t want to freak him out by saying BUT WHERE WILL THE BABY GO????? while we are looking at cars. Am I being irrational?”
 — Dear straight men: maybe some your fears are well-founded: she really is buying that car because of the baby seat she might maybe need one day. (Except that actually makes her the smart one.) Err, also, dear straight women: don’t ever say “we’ve been together five years but aren’t engaged because ‘he’s not ready yet.’” Eeeeeek. 🙁

by Dan Packel

I’ve seen them for years. On the way from my old home in West Philadelphia to the airport or the stadiums. Changing subway lines underneath City Hall. In front of the Lowe’s on the way to a past job. I’m talking about the well-dressed representatives of the Nation of Islam, who hawk neatly packaged bean pies (along with copies of the nation’s newspaper The Final Call) to commuters passing through these high-traffic locations. But only recently did it occur to me that I should be sampling their offerings as part of my halting, unsystematic inquiry into foodstuffs inexpensively proffered by various religious organizations.

With a little reflection came some reasons. The Nation of Islam is a religious movement that mainly focuses its energies on African-Americans; unsurprisingly, in the past, when whoever happened to be standing between lanes with the pies and papers saw me, a white guy, driving the car, he would reliably keep walking. Now if the hawker had been wielding “dry-aged, grass-fed porterhouse” or “dan-dan noodles,” I’d probably roll down the window and wave my hands wildly anyway, but the words “bean pie” have never prompted me to raise a fuss.

But now I decided to actively demonstrate my interest. Approaching the intersection in Grays Ferry by bike on a late December morning I waved to the seller, a guy in his mid-30s attired in all black with the exception of a red scarf. He told me the pies sold for three dollars, or two for five dollars.

“And they’re made from beans, right?” I inquired.

He said they were small navy beans, ground up very fine. “Appreciate your support,” he told me, before I pedaled away. I was now in possession of one compact parcel, housed in a disposable aluminum pie tin, and tightly encased in plastic wrap. While the pies might have been hot at the beginning of the morning, mine was now the same temperature as this chilly-but-still-warmer-than-average December day.

I didn’t pick up a copy of The Final Call with my purchase, but I did have an alternate Nation of Islam publication on hand: the first volume of Elijah Muhammad’s How to Eat to Live. (The second volume is still being transferred to my local library, but considering the amount of repetition in the first 199 pages, I have a hard time imagining that Muhammad breaks significant new ground in the follow-up.)

Herein, Elijah Muhammad, who led the Nation of Islam for several decades until his death in 1975, reports the teachings of Allah with regard to diet and nutrition, as delivered to him by Fard Muhammad — in Nation of Islam theology, the earthly manifestation of Allah. Unsurprisingly, pork is a no-no. But Muhammad also puts the kibosh on many other ingredients vital to the African-American culinary tradition, which sprang up in the South and remains vibrant in black-dominated neighborhoods in Northern cities: sweet potatoes, cornbread, peas, collard greens. This, according to Muhammad, is fare for animals, not humans. For example, “sweet potatoes were never good for any human to eat. They are good for hogs, but not for you.” And Allah “considers most peas fit for cattle and herds of animals, but not for the delicate stomachs of human beings.”

Enter the navy beans — their surface toasted to a carmelized orange on my Saran-Wrapped pie. Writes Muhammad: “No beans did He advise, except the small navy — the small size and not the larger one — the little brown pink ones, and the white ones. This bean He valued to be very high in protein, fats and starches, and it is a safe food for prolonging life.”

I read further, to see if followers are then urged to bake the beans into pies. No overt declaration, but Muhammad doesn’t slam the door on the idea either:

“Pastries and cakes — the kind made with crusts of white flour and sweetened with white sugar, so sweet you can taste them the next day — are not good for our stomachs… Use brown sugar and whole wheat flour for your pie and cobbler crusts.”

Repeatedly, Muhammad emphasizes the importance of eating one meal a day. Chapter headings include: “One Meal a Day,” “The Benefits of Eating Once a Day,” and “You Don’t Need Numerous Diets; Just Eat Once Daily,” in addition to “Our Big Problem is Eating Too Much and Too Often.”

Consequently, I deemed it legitimate to evaluate my bean pie for its belly-filling capabilities in addition to its gustatory virtues. Not ready to restrict my entire day’s consumption to the pie, I chose to treat it as my dinner. If the pie, roughly five inches in diameter, would prove satiating, it would pass the first test.

Still, as the afternoon wore on and I grew hungrier and hungrier, I approached my first bite with trepidation. I had no referents for the taste of the pie; as if I was about to step out of the airport into a country I’d never visited, nor even heard of before. More concretely, I had no idea whether the filling was going to be sweet or savory, nor was I sure which would be preferable.

When I removed the saran wrap and held my nose to its surface, the aromas were familiar. Pumpkin pie spices: brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg. I dug into a thick puree underneath the surface, the color the same creamy beige of the last batch of navy beans I cooked at home (these for a decidedly not Nation of Islam-friendly cassoulet.)

I worked my way through the pie, its buttery, crumbly crust yielding to the sweet, almost custardy bean puree. Neither cloying nor austere, this was far better than I’d expected. Furthermore, the portion size was ideal — I felt no need for anything else to supplement the meal. All this for three dollars. Still, considering the low prices of the ingredients, especially when purchased in bulk, I’m not certain whether the Nation of Islam was subsidizing my meal or whether my purchase was contributing to their bottom line. I’m content to call it a wash.

But I’m also left wondering whether Elijah Muhammad, Louis Farrakhan, or the personable man who sold me the pie would give a damn about any facet of my evaluation. As Muhammad concludes, “if the white man eats poisonous food and eats three or four times a day, that is his business.”

Previously: Pancakes With The Episcopalians and Lunch With The Sikhs

Dan Packel writes about food (and more!) from his home in Philadelphia. You can also follow him here.

“A ram which jumped a fence to breed with more than 30 ewes has become the star attraction of a rural centre in Northamptonshire. Staff at West Lodge Rural Centre in Desborough have delivered 15 lambs fathered by the 11-month-old ram — named Randy — and anticipate 20 more. Randy had been destined for slaughter but his exploits during his 24-hour escape in July have won him a reprieve.”
 — Randy!

A Drynuary Diary

Week One: It’s a challenge, but it’s also a gift.

by Jolie Kerr and John Ore

Jolie Kerr: Bon L’(h)iver, John! I’ve actually been looking forward to this Drynuary! I know, I’m as surprised as you are! But it’s because, unlike last year, I don’t see this month as a desperate attempt to dry out… despite the fact that December basically looked like the picture above, taken by you, at a certain holiday party.

This go-round, my attitude is that this is an opportunity and that feels pretty cool and exciting. When we last chatted, I mentioned that 2011 had started out as a teenaged butthole of a year, and it sort of ended that way too. But! There were some awesome and important things that happened in the middle of the year, and one super strange experience in a labyrinth in Mexico where I’m pretty sure a higher power spoke to me via a wind chime and showed me how to navigate my life path and I’m going to stop now before you have me committed. The point is that I feel all aglow with the promise of the future, I think the month without booze will help me regain some of the clarity I found in that labyrinth. 2012 is going to be my year. And then the world’s going to end. And how are you feeling?

John Ore: Merry Drynuary! I’m happy to report that we’re on the same wavelength: I didn’t limp into this Drynuary, holding my liver in a doggie bag. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the holidays, and partook of the tradition of indulgence that I like to carry into, say, a random Thursday in April. I didn’t look at Drynuary as a reprieve, but more as a welcome ritual of self-improvement. Because everyone knows there’s nothing more important to a married father than his vanity. But before we get started, I need to clarify a few things for the uninitiated.

First of all, it’s Drynuary or Bon L’(h)iver. People need to stop trying to make Janopause happen. What do the Brits know about moderation? They can go eat a bag of knives. And it happens in January, not July or February. Like the Rose Bowl always being on January 1st.

Second, it’s a month long because it is ambitious. It’s not a week, or a couple of days, we’re not dabbling here. It’s meaningful. It’s a challenge, but it’s also a gift. Show some respect. Hey, let’s take a gander at our Drynuary Vital Signs Chart!

Week One

Alcohol Consumed (units)
Jolie: 0
John: 0

Disposition
Jolie: Forgetful (“Oh wait, I’m not drinking….”)
John: Wary

Irritability (scale of 0–10)
Jolie: 3
John: 2

Outlook
Jolie: Bemused acceptance
John: Cautious optimism

Shakes
Jolie: You don’t think the twitching muscle in my upper left arm is cause for alarm, do you?
John: Steady as a rock. But I shoot with THIS hand.

Smugness (scale of 0–10)
Jolie: 1, lest I fall
John: 1, too early to lord this over people… just… yet.

Sounder Sleeping
Jolie: Yes!
John: N/A, I have a 15-month-old.

Substitute Activities
Jolie: This week’s cleaning column bumped up on a 3500-word count.
John: Drinking tonic water with lime, swearing I can still taste the gin.

John: So, what did was your 25th Hour drink? Champagne for your real friends, real pain for your sham friends?

Jolie: I went down in a blaze of white wine, pills and crack brownies, just like the Good Lord intended. I was so mellow one of my friends told me he thought he was on sedatives. And unlike some people, Bon L’(h)iver started for me on the first. No hair of the dog, no hangover brunch, just coffee and toast and much sighing. But! I do have to confess that this year Drynuary ends on the 27th for me, because I have reservations at Luger’s and hell if I’m not going to have a martini with my steak.

Now then, I know because the internet tells me so, that you went out in much more fashionable form. Care to take us through your bloody mary bar?

John: Breaking Drynuary at Peter Luger’s? I’ll allow it! Since our Drynuary typically ends on my wife’s birthday on February 3rd, I’ve broken Drynuary at Peter Luger’s a little early as well. Because, sometimes a Saturday lunch reservation is the best you can do.

This also gives us free rein to BLOW IT OUT on New Year’s Day, which is way more fun than the Forced Death March of New Year’s Eve. Loads of chili. Bloody Marys are front-and-center, but the full coterie of cocktails is on offer. It’s open-house style (I’ll leave my address in the comments for next year, y’all!), so friends, family and neighbors wander in for a bowl of chili and a hangover remedy. It’s not a race to midnight, it’s a nice, long, slow burn, filled with sports.

(At this point I will pause, chalk this up to withdrawal irritability, and offer a giant “Fuck You” to Roger Goodell for filling my Last Day As A Free Man with meaningless NFL games, and forcing me to watch the Winter Classic sober the next day.)

I may or may not have consumed the following beverages in the two days leading up to Drynuary:

• beer
• red wine
• Champagne
• dry vermouth
• sweet vermouth
• rye whiskey
• Irish whiskey
• vodka
• calvados

All in a bucket!

So, who have we recruited to join us in our Noble Quest this month? Any virgins we need to publicly sacrifice?

Jolie: I have virgin blood, I do! (OH GOD STOP LAUGHING.) I recruited two newbies, who we’ll call Jack and Jill because I’m basically just waiting to see which one falls down first and then how long it will take the other to go tumbling after.

John: Nursery rhymes are so appropriate for this. Or is that a sitcom? Let’s just say that my lone recruit folded like Kramer in “The Contest” yesterday.

So, who’s with us? “Tell us in the comments!”

Jolie Kerr isn’t sure what to do with all this ice now. John Ore still smells like a distillery.

Here is a hate letter to film critic J. Hoberman on the occasion of his firing from the Village Voice this week. I have zero thoughts on the matter, and many people are very upset about the canning… although I will note that his top ten list of 2011 is… unusual. (J. Edgar is somehow on it! “Mildred Pierce” is tied for tenth! Everyone’s least favorite Cronenberg movie of the last 19 years comes in at #1!)

“Key to Pepsi’s legal argument is that there’s no chance a mouse’s corpse could survive, intact, for 15 months swimming in Mountain Dew. While published studies have not been conducted on how rapidly Mountain Dew would dissolve a mouse, there is plenty of evidence to suggest that the neon green soda can eat away teeth and bones in a matter of months, and would likely do quite a number on a rodent.”