Out: Manhattan Office. In: Chicken

The Way We Live Now: In Manhattan! You can rent office space there now, cheap! Well, not you. "You" are a part-time chicken farmer and failed celebrity chef. But, you know, other people can rent in Manhattan!

See here: only two years ago, if you had wanted to procure yourself some office space in Midtown Manhattan, the only way would be to burst into office space already occupied by some massive white-shoe law firm, simultaneously shooting and throwing money at everyone in your path, until they had all been killed or paid handsomely, at which time you could drag out the bodies, clean off the blood, give a real estate agent 15%, and open your own office there, until you yourself fell victim to the same fate a few weeks later.

This was the Manhattan real estate "game." But now things are different; everyone's broke, offices are empty, and even the Hobo New York Times can afford office space right there, in Midtown, with rent paid every month in the form of Gray's Papaya coupons.

Not to say that it's sunny times for everyone. Las Vegas has gone from a town where waiters could make $150K to a place where celebrity chefs—restaurant projects canceled—are wandering the Strip, knives in hand, offering to stab tourists and autograph the wound for spare change. Involuntary part-time workers make up a huge chunk of our national economy. Our last hope is the backyard chicken coop—and the government is trying to take that away. Not even our neighbors support us: "Get a farm," they say, flippantly, luxuriating in their own ability to afford fancy eggs from the store.

Yea. We'll get a farm. Your farm, fuckers. Eggs are the new office space.