So, our campaign against the Meatpacking District has borne fruit, but is it the fruit of knowledge or the fruit of the poisonous tree? Two recent events leave us in a bit of a quandary.
On the seemingly negative, but surprisingly positive, side, Google has opened its new Manhattan headquarters. While the site's location on the outskirts of even our own generous definition of the MPD would seem to be an example of a high-flying corporation's Icarus-like legacy, we've got to feel a bit relieved: Whatever soul-eating creatures they're creating in that building, they're more than likely to consume MPD-dwelling douchebags first, sparing the rest of us.
On the seemingly positive, but surprisingly negative, side, actor Mickey Rourke, one of the rare rivals to Rod Stewart for greatest amount of talent squandered in our lifetimes, has taken the pledge, specifically because of an unfortunate event at Pastis where they barred his tiny canine from entry. While we should ostensibly be celebrating the defection of another celebrity from the MPD, a) it's Mickey Rourke, which stretches the definition of celebrity to Reed Richards-like levels and, b) it means Mickey Rourke is liable to be in any other neighborhood but the MPD.
We're gonna call this one a draw.