I wanna dine with these guys:

Game theorists say that, if you intend to tip well, you should do it before the meal. Which my friend Ophir does, at least at sushi restaurants. He’ll sit at the sushi bar, slip the chef $50, and order Omakase - “at the chef’s discretion”. I’ve seen him do it several times when we’ve met for dinner, and each, the sushi served has been nothing short of extraordinary.

Ophir is vocal in his praise and appreciation as well, which spurs the chefs on even further. And whenever he orders a bottle of sake - something that, over the course of one of our average dinners, we do several times - he pours a glass for the chefs.

Which is how, a few months back, we found ourselves still sitting in the back of Bond St. Sushi, the restaurant long since closed, presented with course after course of ever more inventive and expertly prepared sushi and sashimi.

And, at the end, the coup de grace: a piece of fugu, each.

Fugu, from Takifugu, a Japanese pufferfish of the genus Diodon. A fish famous because its internal organs contain lethal amounts of tetrodotoxin. Prepared right, with just a bit of the toxic liver lining the meat, a small dose of the poison supposedly provides an unparalleled taste and texture sensation. But, a bit too much, and the poison paralyzes the diner’s muscles, leaving them fully conscious as they slowly asphyxiate.

Nashville’s poor little rich kids: So much cokeface, so little time to be judged.

Hipster Essentials:
blown out pupils
head scarf/shoelace
facial hair
teh glasses
bongo
ironic(?) booty dancing
ginger kid in stripes and cardigan
who farted? expression
old dude
jaunty kerchief
hair cut with butter knife, styled with mayonnaise
"I’d rather be knitting" face

I wonder how much bologna with mayo on Wonderbread costs our President at the Waldorf-Astoria. Of course, the Doritos would be extra.