It is hard to believe that not long ago there was no mecca for pasty, thin-haired dorks cursed with bad skin and blessed with unbounded cultural irony, postmodern fashion sensibilities and the ability to apply calculus to the organization of MP3 files. But in the hipster kingdom of Portland, Ore., they reign supreme:

There's nothing to like about asphalt. It's an extractive petroleum product that, once spread out for roads and parking lots, acts like a heat sink and contributes to climate change. It also disrupts natural drainage and prevents maximum recharging of precious aquifers.

You can hardly chuck a piece of chorizo around here without smacking a Spaniard upside the head. New Mexico’s colonial and post-colonial history is one long line of conquistadors, craftsmen and clergy from Spain. But Spain ain’t that plain. Consider New Mexico's Basque settlers.

After City of Santa Fe Public Works Department staff and New Mexico Department of Transportation honchos decided that yellow X marks and “no parking” signs were failing to stop drivers from stopping in advance of the train tracks, new white X marks were placed instead, to the tune of $20,000.

Much of New Mexico’s history is contained within roads and trails. The state is physically and culturally tattooed by the Spanish Trail, the Camino Real, the Santa Fe Trail, Route 66, as well as by significant rail routes and interstate highways.

As a guy who uses the internet for a lot of research, I can tell you two things you can’t learn much about online: rain and mushrooms. Want to know how to raise chickens? The internet can tell you. Want to know how to deliver a non-fatal donkey punch? The internet is your friend.

Two things are certain in New Mexico politics regardless of what happens in the Nov. 2 election: The Land of Enchantment will have a woman as governor for the first time, and some large, powerful state-level departments are going to be merged as cost-cutting measures.

Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution, a sort of culinary reality TV show that aired on ABC this spring, proves that television is capable of taking this country’s health and nutrition crisis and distilling it down to the usual plot points of celebrity, animosity, betrayal and cheap editing tricks.

There have been occasional rumors over the years that a final curtain call was in the works for the Paolo Soleri Amphitheater located on the campus of the Santa Fe Indian School. But current fears have a pressing sense of reality to them in the wake of the school’s poorly handled destruction of several historically significant buildings on its campus.

As desperately tired as I am of Vincent Van Gogh puns, I don’t really care what Sabert Lewis calls his mobile wood-fired pizza business—the pies he churns out are blissful slices of traditional Neapolitan mouth sex.