One of the things I overhear quite often among women in their 20s is that they don’t have many female friends. This makes me sad beyond belief, especially since it’s usually delivered in a somewhat boastful tone, as in, “Yeah, I don’t hang out with chicks. Bitches are crazy.” (Approving smirk from dude she’s talking to.)
Ann Arbor may have a lot to offer in terms of coffee shops and places to buy Keen hiking shoes, but leaves much to be desired in terms of a local music scene and decent radio stations. Like most cities, Detroit’s local radio has largely been commandeered by Clear Channel and its ilk, with shock jocks in the morning and fixed playlists which ensure that, while I’m driving around in the county vehicle for work, I hear Coldplay (whom Chuck Klosterman rightly called “the shittiest fucking band I’ve ever heard”) and Death Cab for Cutie at least five times a day. There is one lo-fi station that broadcasts from the Michigan campus, but with notable exceptions here and there, it’s manned by indefatigable hipsters who like to play poorly recorded Mongolian goat herding choruses and minimalist German techno songs that last eleven minutes to prove that they’ve advanced beyond the concept of instruments.