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The Last Supper

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Big Dreams for Chodorow's Next Showstopper; Perv Attacking Women Outside the Box

Cuozzo fantasizes about the possible successes Jeffrey Chodorow could develop if he signs a lease on the enormous space at Broadway and 63rd Street. They include stellar risotto, traditional dim sum, and haute Lebanese — if only he doesn’t “blow it on another howler like Rocco’s or a limping dud like Kobe Club.” [NYP] A Queens dumpling celebrity, a chef in northern China before transplanting to the U.S., has been persuaded to supply her specialty to TKettle on St. Marks Place. Get there early, though; she’s only agreed to hand-make 1,000 per day for the bubble-tea shop. [Eat for Victory/VV] Two young female patrons of the Box have been abducted from outside the club and raped on separate occasions in less than a month, and the predator has not been apprehended. [NYP]

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Eating the Last Supper

Last Supper
We’re not much for coffee-table books, but the forthcoming My Last Supper is so shockingly weird, and shockingly good, that we would consider buying it. “What would your last meal be?” is a popular question for chefs, but the answers here are far better than you would expect. (Masa Takayama wants to cook for Orthodox Jews; Wylie Dufresne would eat vegetables “just to placate my mom.”)

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You're the ‘Time’ Person of the Year, and Joel Stein Has Penis Envy

20061218stein_sm.jpg
Oh, happy day. After weeks — nay, months — of buildup, Time's Person of the Year issue is here. And if that's not exciting enough on its own, it gets so much better: We're the Person of the Year! (And so are you! And you! And even you, little Timmy!) Yep, that's right: This year's Person of the year is "You" — which is to say, the blogger, Flickr'r, YouTube uploader, Wiki contributor, and hive-minderer who the flagship title of a massive media company has now decided actually holds the keys to the Information Age. Naturally, then, Joel Stein takes a spin through multiplayer virtual world Second Life to find out what the hell You're up to — which, this being Joel Stein reporting, is sex:
I spent the next 4 1/2 hours with Cristal as she took me to a waterfall, a snowy Christmas scene, a shipwreck and a sex club. At some point, she offered me a free penis. Much as I didn't want to take it, it's damned hard to tell even a fake woman that you don't want the free penis she's giving you.
The Freudian reading of this is unavoidable, that castrated Old Media is strapping one on just to stay in the nubile Web 2.0 game. It's also terrifying. Because if print media's wandering off to have sex online while leaving bloggers to handle the real reporting, we foresee much less coverage of Baghdad and much more of the Lower East Side. My So-Called Second Life [Time]

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