Whaddya think, kids? “Now that things like Readability and Instapaper are dissolving all the bells and whistles off of every other kind of content… it’s worth asking whether or not what we’ve come to accept as good Web design accomplishes anything genuinely useful for a website’s best customers — the ones who obsessively check it throughout the day, the ones who read every word of an article, the ones who are most engaged with a site’s content.”

There were 457,000 new unemployment claims last week. Your President (he’s still President, by the way; didn’t get voted out this week!) is still advocating for the Congress to extend unemployment benefits for all the old, boring unemployed, much of the total mass of the official 14.8 million jobless, most of whom ran out or are going to soon run out of the unemployment insurance. Who knows? Because, things get fun early next year. Or as the Washington Post put it, the “energetic conservative base is eager to thwart President Obama’s every move.” Yay, every move! Also there are the 2000 about-to-be unemployed Democrats in D.C. to deal with, but whatever.

With all the fun Cee-Lo’s been having with the mid-’60s vibe, and animated typeography and the color pink in putting together his new album, The Ladykiller, it’s kind of surprising he hasn’t just gotten Blake Edwards to direct a video for him.

And, since it happened, if you’d like to watch William Shatner sing Cee-Lo’s big hit, “Fuck You,” he did so on the George Lopez show Wednesday night. This so desperately wants to be an Internet meme, I’m kind of glad that it hasn’t gone viral. Don’t want to encourage that sort of thing.

by Lori Fradkin

My friend Josh and I have a Friday tradition. At the end of each workweek, one of us contacts the other with an e-mail titled “Plans,” a self-explanatory note in which we describe the various events of the days ahead. Sometimes these e-mails come through early in the morning before I even get to my office. Sometimes they slip in just before midnight. But for the past few years, we’ve been pretty diligent about our routine, detailing everything from “finish book” to “clean my apt because it is a disaster after my party last night.”

This weekend my e-mail will lay out the itinerary for my parents’ trip to the city. It will include a rundown of all the restaurants we’ll visit during their stay as well as the tidbit that I’ll be late to the first meal because I’m seeing Joel McHale at Carnegie Hall. Notably missing from this schedule: the New York City Marathon.

On Saturday night, as runners throughout the city chow down on pasta, I too will have carbs on the dinner table. Mine, however, will come in the form of a potato side dish to help facilitate a less energy-boosting practice called steak-loading. Later, when the waiter asks if we want coffee or dessert, I won’t get antsy about getting home to get a good night’s sleep. Saks does not require as early a wake-up call as Staten Island.

Those who knew me in middle school may find these priorities perfectly in line with their image of the girl who couldn’t run The Mile but did have a shopping-themed bat mitzvah, complete with tables labeled by store and followed by a trip to the Mall of America with the grandparents. I’m still quite the enthusiastic shopper, but in a surprising turn of events, I’ve (sort of) become a runner as well.

I include the above parenthetical because it’s still hard for me to consider myself anything remotely resembling an athlete. When I moved to New York, my uncle — a runner himself — told me that he thought I’d enjoy said activity because I like being alone. So I started on the treadmill during football season with a don’t-stop-till-halftime goal and gradually moved outside, swapping in bridges as time-to-turn-around points. I’ve now completed six half-marathons.

What this doesn’t mean is that I want to run a full one.

It is not, contrary to what many will argue, the next step. It is thousands and thousands of blister-inducing steps that make your pedicurist cringe at the pre-polish shade of your middle toenail. And yet while no one would congratulate a marathoner and ask in the next breath about the Big 52.4, people constantly insist that I must feel the need to double my distance. “Of course you’ll do it,” they all say. “Of course you will.” They say it with such confidence that “it” might as well be “order sushi at some point in the next week.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love running. I love the sense of accomplishment I feel when I text my dad to report “8 miles!” I love the reminder that it’s pretty cool to be able to see the Statue of Liberty on a random Saturday afternoon. I really love egg and cheese on a bagel. And maybe one day I’ll decide that running for the approximate amount of time it takes to watch Che is something I want to try. But those who think it’s on my bucket list are mistaken.

Unless you’re Barney Stinson, you don’t just go out one day and run a marathon without training. And unless you’re P. Diddy, you train for more than two months. I’m not one to be out till 4 a.m. (anymore) or lounge in bed on the weekends, but the following still seems unappealing: go to sleep early on Friday in order to get up early on Saturday in order to run 18 miles for practice, only to go to sleep early on Saturday because you’re exhausted from the aforementioned rising and running. It’s just too much of a good-for-you thing, and I fear it’ll start to feel like a chore. I like running, and I’d prefer not to hate it.

One of the toughest races I ever did was a half-marathon in Central Park. It was hot and humid, and though I was thrilled to finish with the friend I’d been training with, I can’t say it’s an experience I’d want to repeat — especially for twice as long. At least I got a new long-sleeved T-shirt as a result, so that’s always good. At this point, if I sign up for a half-marathon and wake up to thunderstorms with a side of stickiness, I will be bummed at the loss of registration fee but also okay with rolling over and going back to sleep. Been there, done that, will have a chance to do it again in a few months. If I were to wake up to a downpour on the day of a marathon? That would be nonnegotiable.

The trick, I’ve learned, is to constantly play down expectations. Before any race, I am sure to mention that I hope I’ll be able to finish it. I’ll note that I didn’t really train like I should have or my shin splints have been acting up. It’s the same reason I often don’t pitch editors until a piece is near completion: If I can’t make it work, well, no one was expecting it anyway. But it’s hard to temper expectations for a marathon. You have friends coming out to cheer for you or, if they sponsored you, at least make sure they get their money’s worth.

It would be easy to point to a busy work schedule and the fact that all my friends have recently decided to get married in cities other than New York and claim that I don’t have enough time to train anyway. But, really, it’s not so much a matter of hours in the day as how I choose to use them. Ryan Seacrest could find the time if he really wanted to. The thing is, even if I did find the time, I’m not sure I would spend it doing the same — that is, only — activity I always do. I would attempt to tone my abs, perhaps, or build arm muscle so I don’t have to continue smiling and asking the nice gentlemen on airplanes to put my carry-on in the overhead compartment. Honestly? I would catch up on “The Good Wife.”

Last weekend, I took the bus to D.C. to watch the guy I’m dating run the Marine Corps Marathon. As we picked up his number at the expo, he speculated that this essay would end with a twist, that the angle would shift to something like, “I never thought I’d want to do a marathon until I was inspired by the procession of runners soaring through the capital of this great nation.” And I must say it was impressive to see them go by and realize that all of these people were physically fit enough to run such a distance. Then I got tired just walking across the bridge to Arlington, stripped off several layers and thought, Man, it would suck to be running right now.

When I saw him near the end, it looked to me like he was going strong, but as soon as we met up, I could see he was in pain. His knee was bothering him, and we worked our way through the crowd to sit on the grass so he could stretch. “You don’t need to do this,” he told me. “Your article can stay the same.” Granted, that was before he cooled off, got attached to his medal and decided that crossing the finish line essentially made him a Marine, but still.

I have the utmost respect for those who will run through all five boroughs this weekend. I know what it’s like to get that congratulatory call from grandma saying she’s proud of you for your marathon — and you, actual marathon runner, won’t even have to correct her. I wish everyone the very best of luck and weather, and I will be rooting for you, whether in person or in spirit.

It just depends what time brunch is.
Lori Fradkin lives in New York and is an editor at AOL. She is baffled by people who run without iPods.

Photo from Flickr by Hiroyuki Takeda.

In lieu of a recipe from our Real American Thanksgiving Cookbook, please accept this safety video from the folks at State Farm, which combines the two great American pastimes of setting awesome fires and deep frying stuff. Enjoy!

“If Keith weren’t such a brilliant character, the reader might weary of his hypocrisy. But the truth is, he’s hilarious. I got tired of jotting ‘hahahaha’ and ‘LOL’ in the margins.”
 — Liz Phair reviews Keith Richards’ Life.

by Andrew Piccone

Tell me about your job.
I made a record that I produced and wrote last year. I snuck it on the internet and it got some good press and reviews and I pressed a single in the United Kingdom and then I got an offer to come to New York to make music for Cantora Records. Originally it was a solo project, and now it’s a five piece band called Emil and Friends, it’s evolving at a very rapid rate, like an alien fetus. It’s bizarre pop with a steady dance rhythm and all kinds of influences. It’s got some flamenco, it’s got some American folk, it’s got some jazz, it’s got some R&B, some metal. It’s very eclectic.

What are your long term/short term goals with your music?
I moved here to put a record with this label, and to play a lot of great shows around the city, and to potentially go on tour and develop a fan base of people who like the music. So far it’s been a great start. We’re playing Glasslands on November 14.

How long have you been playing music?
I’ve been playing and producing music since high school. I was heavy into theater and towards the end of high school I realized that I wanted to focus more on music and not so much as drama, although my drama background helps me to be a completely bizarre front man on stage. I started to lock myself away in the attic and learn production techniques and kind of teach myself, which is kind of the opposite of what a lot of people do, which is play a lot of live shows and kind of learn as you go. As I was leaving college and starting to think about doing it full time, it started to sound good, and it started to take it’s own shape.

Why is it important to make music?
Because there is a very visceral, physical response when I don’t make music. I think music is an essential part of the human experience. I think everyone’s music is different, and I think that’s what I’m trying to figure out right now, as I continue to do it. To answer that question is why I make music. All questions about music are best explained by listening to material, and looking at history, and seeing responses, and seeing why people hold music so closely. It can activate psychosis in people, people committed suicide when John Lennon was shot, I mean people take music very seriously. The painting pallet is the full spectrum of human emotions.

Who are your influences?
I grew up listening to a lot of strange Latin American romantic music from 60’s, 70’s and 80’s, which is actually pretty bad. In terms of folk influences I listened to a lot of Chilean New Song, very politically motivated, and it used a lot of flamenco guitar with beautiful harmonies singing very simple songs that were very political. A lot of those artists influenced me on the songwriting front, for example, Inti-Illimani has a plethora of material that I am ashamed to show people because of how beautiful it is. On the other front, I listened to a lot of hip hop music, and I was listening to people like DJ Premier and J Dilla who were producing beautiful instrumentals for hip hop musicians that always influenced me more than the lyrical side, albeit they’re both equally important to the movement. I’m also influenced by the great American pop stars who have brought something to the table and have combined the best parts of entertainment with music and show business.

Speaking of John Lennon, what is your favorite Beatles album?
“Magical Mystery Tour.” I say that because people love to get shocked when they hear it. I first heard The Beatles not as a child, but when I was DJ’ing in high school, and people were unloading vinyl on me, and I picked up a lot of Beatles albums I had never heard. I would DJ two copies of “Flying,” which is one of the very few, if not the only instrumental track The Beatles ever did, and it’s such the opposite of what they’re known for in terms of their contribution to music. If you really badger me, I’d probably say The White Album, but I feel like Magical Mystery Tour is an example of how before their time they were, and how they could develop an aesthetic and have everything about the album be high art-a pop masterpiece.

So you just moved to New York?
In August, I moved into a place that’s a very communal living situation, a warehouse in Williamsburg with like 8 people. Hopefully I can move to a place where I can have a home studio and do recording. The close proximity of people here, as beautiful as they are, can be a bit hectic. For music though, New York is the place to be. In Boston there are fun little venues left and right, where a lot of young people are contributing to the music scene, but I think it lacks a central body. When you talk about Brooklyn or Manhattan music there are venues that people go to where it’s assumed that if you make a style of music you would go to these certain places. Boston seems to be a little schizophrenic in that a lot of great music comes in from out of town, but you don’t see a lot of homegrown bands. I want to raise that bar really high. Boston is the greatest place in the United States for music education, you have Berklee College of Music, you have the Boston Conservatory, you have all theses kids who are studying music. I think what’s going to help them contribute more to mainstream music is by getting their asses out to the venues and creating a music scene that’s vivid and alive.

What is your best hangover cure?
I actually don’t drink. I gave up drinking when I got signed to Cantora because I have to make an album, basically by myself, and if I get drunk I lose a lot of time because I lie around and watch Kristen Stewart movies and I fantasize about dating her, stuff like that. Being dedicated to what you do, you see the difference in productivity when you take alcohol out the equation. In no way do I advocate not drinking or drinking heavily. It’s been since February, there’s definitely a social part of my life that’s falling away, I don’t think good things are going to happen by sacrificing the social experience in New York, but I think it has the most prime terrain to develop.

Are you in a relationship?
I think girls can be compared to alcohol, if not more demanding and more hangover inducing. I was dating someone in Boston, and now I’m not. Girls here can be judged as a little more self centered and delusional. There seems to be this idea amongst girls here that you owe them money for their time, a lot of them pretending to be models, actresses, musicians, some really are but I think being pretty goes a long way in Brooklyn, and I’ve learned that the hard way.

Are you happy?
I know where I am going. I am as happy as the hardest worker at their desk, doing whatever it is they do. I’m blessed to be in my situation. There are people who deserve to be in my position more than me, and I owe it to them not to be happy until I really should be happy.

Andrew Piccone is a photographer in New York.

Been Caught Joke Stealing, or, There Is More Than One Reason to Dislike Carlos Mencia.

#ihadanabortion and I’ve never regreted it. #prochoiceThu Nov 04 03:01:03 via Twitter for iPhone

Victoriana
Victorianaaa

1992, 1998. #ihadanabortionThu Nov 04 14:34:42 via Tweetie for Mac

Anna Holmes
AnnaHolmes

This is meeting with some predictable fuss.

You know, like:

Wow, what a sick feed #ihadanabortion There’s nothing honorable in killing a developing child. There’s nothing 2 be proud of, a baby is deadWed Nov 03 22:10:54 via Twitter for iPhone

Sarah Mindek
SarahMindek

And on the other side, why yes:

Why is saying #ihadanabortion “provovative?” I had my wisdom teeth out. Is that needlessly provocative? Or “i had a baby at 15?” No?Thu Nov 04 16:23:19 via web

A. Jensen-Clem
lavidamorada

“When Heloise McKee moved to the District after college, she packed her car with the essentials: five bags of clothes, an alarm clock and a folder filled with tear sheets from shelter magazines.”