Emdashes. The New Yorker between the lines

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From today’s New York Post (via MediaBistro): “Tina Brown has turned to legendary avant-garde design firm Number 17 to handle her new yet-to-be-named Web venture, a news-aggregation service that is being backed by her longtime friend, media mogul Barry Diller.” I can attest both to No. 17’s design acumen and their laudable foosball hosting and playing skills.

Elsewhere in design, journalism and political science double major (and keyboard player) Teddy Applebaum, given the challenge of a mock blow-in card, struggled among various versions of Rea Irvin’s New Yorker typeface and their cost (“oodles of cash”), and had to settle for a poor imitation. Occasional spelling oversights aside, I think the kid’s got something, don’t you?

Speaking of blow-in cards, there was an eloquent defense of them in Wired some months ago that I keep thinking about, and not just because of the witty execution. It seems the cards really bring in the dough, and in these uncertain times, that’s something we’ve got to support (as this Jack Ziegler cartoon suggests), right? Or at least not judge too harshly, especially when in the forest, which could probably use more edifying reading material, anyway.

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I dunno, but this post by Len at the Jawbone Radio Show in Cleveland, who’s been notified that one of his entries has been selected as a winner of the Eustace Tilley competition (congratulations!), makes me curious. Len writes: “The art will be published on Monday on the New Yorker.com and there is a slight chance that I may make it into the print edition as well. I’ll be sure to publish more info as soon as I know it.” A little gallery in the print edition would be a treat, but even if the winners’ circle is online-only, it’s been a great contest for all involved. I’m sure Rea Irvin would have been thoroughly amused.

In case you were wondering, or, as the wise Cary Tennis would say, Since You Asked, I only repeat conjectures

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That’s why we should be writing about John Edwards now. We had something to learn from the fairly extensive coverage of Rudy Giuliani’s disastrous campaign, and now we have something to gain from looking back at the results of Edwards’ approach and the details of his inconveniently mellow-harshing story and concerns. I want to hear about what he’ll do next. Don’t discount him just because we love a bullfight.

Does God exist? Tonight Christopher Hitchens and Rabbi Shmuley Boteach are debating it at the 92nd St. Y. I’ll be there. Potential highlights include God, appearing Marshall McLuhan-style, strolling onstage to declare to Hitchens, Boteach, the audience, or some combination of the above, “You know nothing of my work.”

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The President’s Analyst, written and directed by Theodore J. Flicker and starring James Coburn in the title role, was released in 1967—which fact is screamingly evident in virtually every frame. I saw a big chunk of it many years ago, and in my mind it’s always remained a mashup of Dick and I Love You, Alice B. Toklas! with a little bit of Skidoo thrown in. (We learned recently that David Denby is a big fan of Otto Preminger—I’d love to know what he makes of Skidoo.)

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Back in August—my, how time flies—our friend and illustrator Jesse Ewing wrote in with a Rea Irvin type sighting for the Emdashes column devoted to this activity:
Hi Emily,

Not sure if you’re still doing your X-Rea category, but I’ve got an entry that kind of blew my mind.

See attached picture. In our defense, we had to get white bread to make proper BLTs.

Jesse (and wife Chelsea)
whitebread.jpg

I’d like a BLT right now, actually. Anyway, Gwyneth Dyer, writer for the communications design agency Larsen, has just noted this sliced Rea-lette on her marketing blog, mentioning (thanks!) our slow but steady X-Rea machine. She notes:

I’m wondering if this was a purposeful decision — to align a bakery brand with a sophisticated weekly magazine of literature, current affairs, and humor. Perhaps the brand manager’s thinking went like this: Customer needs to pick up some bread. Customer is overwhelmed by choices on grocery shelf. Customer spots a bread that seems somehow familiar, almost classic, possibly a bit more erudite than the other white breads….
She goes on to ask, “What’s your opinion? Is this typeface off limits? Is using it unfairly capitalizing on The New Yorker brand?”

I’d like to toast Jesse, Chelsea, and Dwyer for this excellent find. Pictured is Jesse’s own photograph of the spongy bread; Dyer has a close-up on her site, too. Please email in your own Irvin-esque type sightings, and if you’ve got a photo, screen grab, or scan, all the better! (continued)

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