Princeton University undergrads are voting on “a controversial referendum that calls for the student government to ask the university to provide alternative brands of hummus in its food court and campus stores. The Princeton Committee on Palestine, a student group, campaigned for the referendum after it learned the school’s current hummus supplier, Sabra, has ties to a company that supports the Israeli military.”

Nice one, New York Times! We would have also accepted, “On Web, Christie’s Message Has Broad Appeal.”

Do you want a guided tour of Lemmy from Motörhead’s apartment conducted by the man himself? Of course you do. He sleeps on red-hot branding irons, you know.

The next casualty of the recession: Receptionists, who are, as one expert quoted by the Wall Street Journal says, a “a nonproductive use of a person.” (That the person who proffered said opinion is a management consultant resulted in me making one of those laugh-cry-sneeze sounds.)

Not only does the the lack of a receptionist mean the demolition of yet another rung on the entry level of the corporate world’s ladder, it can cause some awkwardness on the part of visitors.

Yet, in a still-sputtering economy, and within a modernizing work culture that increasingly eschews the more hierarchical elements of traditional office life, employing a full-time receptionist whose sole job is to greet visitors and answer phones in a reception area that can cost more than $50 per square foot per year is going the way of two-window offices and three-martini lunches.

That means more workers are using key cards to enter their company’s office space, and more hapless visitors, once greeted with a warm smile and beverage offers, now having to announce themselves over sometimes bewildering phone or intercom systems.

But those “hapless” types will just have to deal! Social Darwinism, baby! After all, just look at what the management consultant who tsk-tsked “nonproductive” workers reaped when he fired his front-office person!

Before moving to 1540 Broadway, MorrisAnderson had an office near Grand Central Terminal, where Miller employed a full-time receptionist complete with proper reception area. “Quite frankly, for the most part it was wasted space,” says Mr. Miller.

Mr. Miller’s trade-off saved him at least $10,000 a year. He now relies on a part-time administrative assistant who sits in the bullpen, with a good view of the entrance, and who, in between phone calls and visitors, keeps busy with other tasks.

“The money saved may not seem like a lot, but you know what, it’s somebody else’s bonus,” says Mr. Miller’s broker, Robert Stella, of CresaPartners.

Or health insurance for the part-time administrative assist — hahahaha, just kidding.

[Photo via Michael Pujals on Flickr.]

In case you missed it, the bees of Brooklyn enjoy maraschino cherry juice. It’s a funny old world.

In this beginning of this clip, nicely filmed by the frustratingly-named director Yours Truly, the rapper Yelawolf visits People’s Park in Berkeley, and talks about his time there as a homeless runaway — when he’d hang out there and “just be.” It’s nice when he apologizes to an old woman who walks by at the time he says the word “motherfucker.” Then he skateboards and tells the story of calling home to his mom, and returning to Alabama, where he grew up. But the best part is his performance of “Pop the Trunk,” from his album, Trunk Musik 0–60, which came out last week — it’s one of the best songs anyone has released this year, I think — accompanied only by piano.

The new issue of Bon Appetit declares Grant Achatz’s Chicago restaurant Next, a high-concept, ticketed joint that will “serve four menus per year from great moments in culinary history — or the future,” one of the best restaurants in the country for a celebration. Perhaps the magazine took the restaurant’s idea of eating in “the future” seriously, since the place has yet to open, and likely won’t until early 2011. [Via]

I’ve had some terrible bosses in my lifetime. One of them stole money from me, while another called me “sport” whenever he showed up to work drunk, which was quite often. But where I differ from LeBron “King” James — other than in every physical manner one can name — is that, regardless of how inept I felt them to be, or how poorly they managed the dog grooming salon or potting soil factory where I toiled (literally), I never initiated physical contact with either of them. That is to say, I refrained from “bumping” them to show my displeasure with their… bossiness. Even at an early age, I kind of got the whole “I’m paying you, so I make the rules” line of reasoning.

James, who by now must consider himself an empty wine bottle adrift in the ocean, obviously feels differently on the subject. Quite differently indeed.

I’ve witnessed a lot of disagreements between players and coaches in my lifetime, which has been long and filled with basketball. (And potting soil.) I’ve had coaches badmouth players to me and had players called their coaches every name in the book. That’s only normal when the season begins wending its way through winter and the travel begins to take its toll. Not to mention, NBA players are usually trillionaires and the coaches are usually failed ex-players who seem to regard any appearance of slacking as contempt for the game.

By the time they reach the pro ranks, many players have already tasted the finer things in life and been told “no” a total of never times in their lives. So when they’ve had enough of being ordered around by a balding guy in a rumpled suit (sorry, every coach in history), they begin to dream about “going Sprewell”, which is to say, wringing a coach’s neck.

Now, in James’ defense, he did nothing of that sort. He just bumped the guy. Sure, the video got passed around more times than a joint in the Sacramento Kings Halloween party during the 2001–2002 season. (I totally made that up. Totally.)

And, of course, his complete lack of respect undoubtedly resonated with coach Eric Spoelstra’s boss, Pat Riley who, upon viewing it, probably put in an extra 30 minutes on his office elliptical machine. (Hey, pacing the sidelines takes a lot out of a 90-year-old.)

But, still, it was a momentary lapse in judgment; an out-of-character act by a relatively genial guy. At least that was the story I was going with until someone sent me this video, brought to you by the magic of YouTube:

So now I’m thinking: we either have a guy with a very poor sense of balance, or we have a petulant brat who wants the world to know that his team’s failures are not as a result of his play. Just poor coaching. Again. Obviously, I am hoping for the former but going with the latter. While both of them claimed the bump was “unintentional”, I’m thinking only one of them was telling the truth. My worst fears were confirmed with the release of this planted exclusive story, complete with unnamed “sources”.

Now, I’m not exactly Ben Bradlee, but really, ESPN.com? Need you run with a story, obviously orchestrated by an unhappy player who won’t even go on the record? Of course the team is frustrated by Spoelstra. Let’s see: they’re also frustrated by Dwyane Wade; frustrated by their crummy, apathetic fan base, who keep missing the opening tip; and they’re probably incredibly frustrated by getting pecked to death by the likes of Tracy McGrady, an anachronism from those easy-breezy, run and shoot offenses of earlier this decade.

So it’s beginning to look a lot like Spoelstra will be fired by Christmas. The team is showing no real signs of life. Even ex-coaches like Jeff Van Gundy, who earlier this year was saying this, has probably popped a hammy pulling this maneuver; and, if not for the magic of the Internet, would probably deny having made either statement. (And I actually like JVG, a coach whom New York Post columnist Peter “No, Not Ever Funny” Vecsey once famously called “a cobra disguised as a worm.”)

It’s almost, very nearly, a foregone conclusion that Spoelstra will get dumped by the time the ball drops on 2010. At least that’s what my sources tell me. And just who are my sources?

Look, don’t push me.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Mohamed Hussain, from Flickr.

“By the time the film, which cost about $100 million to produce, opens next July, the studio expects advertising and future promotions to have persuaded almost everyone that Mr. Favreau’s movie is a tough-minded adventure on the order of Clint Eastwood’s ‘Unforgiven’ — with aliens.”

Okay. Well. The new Iron and Wine single is not at all what I had hoped it would be. Rather than return to the whispery voice and acoustic guitar of his earlier records, Sam Beam opts for a wall-of-synth atmospherics and Beach Boys-y harmonies. (Kind of like Grizzly Bear, I guess?) But, hey, actually, I’m liking it more on the second listen than the first. So, vive le difference! I’ll need to give it more time. And maybe the hushed tones of “Half Moon” and “Mary Anne” will show up on the album, Kiss Each Other Clean, which comes out in a couple months.