Oh look, the New York Times says that NYC's Korean grocery stores are on the wane.

Jews! They hate Obama! That's according to today's Times, in which we learn that Florida's Jews are almost as misinformed as West Virginia's everyone. Anyway—old Jewish retirees all think Obama is against Israel, even though he's just as solidly pro-whatever Israel wants as every other major American politician from either side of the aisle. What can Obama do to win them over?

I don't really like to stoop to making fun of stories. You know why? Because I've written so many bad ones myself! Hi-o! Hell, everyone does! And also, who cares? That aside, it's safe to say I may never get over this opening paragraph in the Times metro section: "Across the city, delis and bodegas are a familiar and vital part of the streetscape, modest places where customers can pick up necessities, a container of milk, a can of soup, a loaf of bread." INDEED. Whatever, the story is somewhat redeemed because it is about deli cats, which are the most awesome cats in the world and anyone who is against them is EVIL. What would you rather have, the occasional scratch and cat hair on your bagel or RAT-NIBBLED TRISCUITS?

Since two's a trend, I can declare that there is a massive outbreak of socially-retarded behavior in the delis of Manhattan. Because this is already a sweeping trend piece, I am happy to randomly assert that this is due to an influx of new and very stupid people to New York who haven't yet cottoned on to what a Korean deli is. Incident the first: The East Village Korean counterman greets two dazed customers with a hearty hello to indicate he is ready to ring them up. Then these queens start bitching, loudly, about how they don't like to be greeted in such an strident manner. "This is the rudest deli in New York!" says one. Clearly they've never been to West Bushwick!

Grub Street takes a moment to sing the praises of deli buffets, in particular those foods which age well after 6-12 hours under heat lamps. Salisbury steak? "Jump on this!" Sure, if first we've gotten so cross-eyed with late-night booze that we'd happily chew on a pig's ear, long as it's hot. The other recommendations involve burrowing to the center of congealed mashed potatoes or glutinous pasta tumors; in other words, tactics which rely on faith in unseen goodness. However, this brings up a perennial New York question, which is: What happens to the acres of unsold crapfood you always see suppurating under the lamps at the city's numberless bodegas? One assumes that tonight's leftovers go into tomorrow's omelets, and other such recycling. Anyone with firsthand experience or observation, please let us know via tips or the comments below. Be as graphic as you can stand.