My friend Jon, over at his site Flavor Country, is bringing The People some good, good lovin’ in the form of Dogblog. It’s a simple idea: he takes pictures of the tethered dogs of the Bay Area, and divines their thoughts or just ponders their personalities and situation. The result is an unstoppable desire to keep reading and continue laughing for you. Or, as Jon puts it:

As I walk around San Francisco, I encounter dogs tied to things, take their pictures, and offer them up to the world with whatever commentary springs to mind. Enjoy.

People of the world, these are your dogs. Well, at least those in SF. Get over there soon, before everybody else on the internet knows before you do.

In Saveur magazine’s February issue, homage is rightly paid to ‘The Best Food in the World’, and that food is bacon. I thought I’d take a little time to convey some of my own views on these slices of epicurean heaven.

There are few foods that can so consistently satisfy me and offer so much delicious love in return for so little effort. Few foods can draw my attention completely to the act of savoring their flavor and texture without any adornment. At a diner, a fancy restaurant, or my own kitchen, bacon can be an exultant experience with equal aplomb. It can be thick or thin cut, applewood or hickory smoked, cured, pre-cooked, pan-fried or microwaved. It’s all delicious.

Anyone interested in becoming a graphic designer and dealing with typography should buy a copy of Robert Bringhurst’s Elements of Typographic Style when they become a student. They should read it once through after or in the midst of a basic typography course, and leave it by their desk for easy reference. Then, after a year or two, they should pick it back up and read it again (Who knows? Maybe there’ll be a new edition by then. There are already three) and put it back by their desk. Then, when they’re ready again, most likely after they’ve left school and worked for a while, they should read it again. If they’re lucky, they’ll readily understand 60% of it and benefit immensely from the additional 20–30% they’ve picked up since the last time.

But, like most canonical works, Elements mirrors the art it elucidates: a pool that warmly invites the reader to wade and provides depth and enjoyment for those who know how far out they can push themselves, but will appear murky and cold to newcomers unfamiliar with the waters. I’ve recommended this book to roughly 60 design grad students and probably an equivalent number of undergrads and designers. I’ve given it as a gift, and even recommended it to a few non-designers. This method probably left a few stranded swimmers, but until I teach again, with a class of my own, I probably won’t stop.

There are many bastions of culture and critique where one can go to experience the arts and the measured critical examination of their fruits. One of these rich cultural havens is an institution that’s been viewing and reviewing virtually all of American cinema since 1922. That’s right, it’s the The Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA). As a champion of objective and even-handed analysis of our nation’s filmmakers, the MPAA has allowed our collective cultural experiences to be measured, assured, and age-appropriate.

In the recent past (around 1997 or so), the MPAA began publishing expanded editions of their concise and authoritative reviews, allowing us to peer through the window of that familiar MPAA rating frame into a mansion of depth and literary finesse. Let’s have a look, shall we?