Your Daily WTF? Free Tacos!

I've got your daily dose of WTF right here. Melissa Joan Hart will be passing out free tacos tomorrow at the Spruce Street Harbor Park. Oh, wait, it gets more WTF-ier. She's promoting Old El Paso's new boat-shaped taco shell.

Clarissa has some explaining to do.

Boat shaped tacos? At Spruce Street Harbor? Get it? 

I'm not going to lie. I love Sabrina and I love tacos, so I'll probably try to sneak over there for lunch. 

The Divine Lorraine Hotel

If the hopeful Jacob Adelman at the Inquirer is any indication, the Divine Lorraine might soon live up to its name. What do I mean? Well, with the Divine Lorraine's redevelopment possibly beginning this month, this will likely be the catalyst North Broad Street has long needed. 

Let's back up though. Like anything regarding the Divine Lorraine, it's easy to be skeptical. When the Divine Lorraine was occupied by the International Peace Movement Mission, it was a budget hotel with strange rules owned by an even stranger religious cult. It wasn't exactly signaling any key players to invest in North Broad. But it was keeping North Broad Street alive. Think of it as Market East's Strawbridge & Clothier. As soon as its doors were shuttered, an era was over, and the only thing capable of saving the corridor was massive reinvention. 

Since the Divine Lorraine closed its doors in 2000, it became nothing but an old building in a bad part of town no developers wanted anything to do with. For several years, a lone member of the International Peace Movement Mission lived onsite as its caretaker, keeping away graffiti artists and urban explorers. But when it was sold to a foreign investor in 2006, it was gutted, sold for scrap, and left for dead.

That's when the elements took over. 

To those unfamiliar with a Divine Lorraine before it was tagged with "BONER FOREVER," or unfamiliar with cities before the 21st Century, the dumpy hotel wasn't unusual. In fact, the only thing strange about the Divine Lorraine were its owners - the cult of Father Divine - and the fact that it had remained in near-original condition. 

As a hotel, the city was full of similar budget beds, even in nice Center City neighborhoods. Throughout the late 20th Century, places like the Adelphia House and the Spruce Parker offered similarly sparse amenities for a few bucks a night, or a few more for the week or month. 

Perhaps it was the cult's rules - such as no "undo mixing of the sexes," no alcohol or drugs, and a strict dress code - that kept its tenants respectful and the structure intact. Even in its current state, though, the Divine Lorraine holds an air of mystery and a unique sense of optimism for this otherwise struggling corridor, especially amongst those who remember seeing its lights on. 

For fifteen years, most developers have only seen it as blight, but residents have seen divinity. But in the last few years, the Divine Lorraine has even seemed to enrapture even some of the most bottom-lined developers. In 2012, Eric Blumenfeld purchased the property and has been promising to redevelop it ever since. Having developed several other properties on North Broad, Blumenfeld has a vested interest in the corridor. But he has also expressed a passionate interest in the Divine Lorraine itself. Like Blumenfeld, Billy Procida, a developer who helped reinvent New York's Hell's Kitchen, was equally wooed by the Divine Lorraine, and agreed to contribute $30M towards its renovation.

So what now? Well, like the Divine Lorraine, we wait. It's impossible to know what will happen if and when the Divine Lorraine reopens its doors. Ridge Avenue has gradually been getting redeveloped from both the east and west, inching its way towards the Divine Lorraine, so now seems as good as time as any to get started. 

What will happen to the properties along North Broad pose the bigger questions. Even with four restaurants planned for Divine Lorraine, will it foster an island of development at this lone intersection, or will it encourage more developers to get on board. After all, the Divine Lorraine isn't the only landmark laying in wait. The fate of the Metropolitan Opera House is unknown and the Inquirer Building has sat empty since the newspaper moved to Market East. It seems everyone is waiting to see what will happen to the Divine Lorraine. 

In a city that's no stranger to demolishing our aging landmarks for speculative development, the most unique page in the Divine Lorraine's history book may be that no one, not one developer has proposed its demolition. For decades, it was a jewel in the crown of North Broad and the International Peace Movement Mission's portfolio of historic architecture. Perhaps Father Divine is still watching over his Divine Lorraine Hotel.

Who's In Your Car at Night?

It was only a matter of time before car thieves traded in their crowbars for computer classes. If you follow automotive news, you probably know that Chrysler-Fiat is recalling more than 1.4M Jeeps with UConnect. If you don't follow automotive news: Fiat owns Chrysler, Chrysler makes Jeeps, and Italians still can't make a decent car.

If you own a new Jeep, get ready to gear up. Wired recently showed how hackers could gain control of your radio, climate control, and even bring your car to a slow halt. 

It's scary, but it's not unexpected. As your car becomes more and more of a computer, it becomes more and more prone to the demons of technology. Until now, no car's onboard computer system has been so connected to your diving experience to allow it to be hijacked. And it's probably good that it happened with UConnect, because apparently the ability to remotely hijack a car hasn't yet been a top concern despite warnings. 

While hackers can stall your new Jeep, they can't put you in an real danger. If this hadn't been shown, that might have not been the case in the future. Your networked computer is one thing. When you get a virus, it's an annoyance. When you're hacked, it can be an embarrassment. But a plagued laptop isn't going to disable your breaks or steer you into the Grand Canyon. 

Despite obvious headaches for Chrysler-Fiat, the lessons learned are good for every carmaker from Detroit to Japan. 

But another potential headache has been lingering since the early 2000s, one that hasn't been functionally resolved, and it impacts technology that's been around since the '90s: your key fob.

Your key fob is a security innovation that originated as a way to remotely unlock your doors and evolved into something that can start your engine, even prohibit it from starting if you only have a key. Like a lot of emerging technology, the key fob has presented as many problems as practical enhancements. 

When I owned a '98 Saab 900, I went swimming with my keys in my pocket. The water corroded the fob, and although I was able to manually unlock my door with my key, I was unable to start the car. $1000 later for a proprietary fix at a dealership and I could drive my car again. After that, I kept plenty of backup fobs handy. But like sticking your password on a computer monitor, the fob taped in my wheel-well made Saab's security enhancement moot.

But key fobs don't just pose an annoyance for car owners, they allow hackers access to your car. In 2006, David Beckham's BMW X5 was stolen by someone savvy enough to hack into the fob. What's insane is just how easy it is to do it. Keyless ignition computers are constantly scanning for your fob, but only within a few feet. If someone knows how to amplify that range and you're car's parked in your driveway, a hacker can open your doors - even start your car - from the key fob in your very own pocket. 

I sound more and more like my dad every day, but more technology means more things to fix. My first car had crank windows for that exact reason, and after driving a 2001 Beetle to Key West with no air conditioning and frozen windows, I know why I'm sounding more and more like my dad.

Beyond the electronic hiccups of what comes "standard" today are the growing ramifications of the automobile's evolution into a moving piece of software. Sometimes the simplest innovation, the one most time-tested, is the best. In the case of the automobile, that might be the traditional key. Sure, no key is truly unique, but when you need two different keys to unlock your door and start your ignition, no one's going to hack a unique paring old-skool. And sure, you can start a 1988 Camry with a screwdriver, but who's going to steal a 1988 Camry? 

It's not pretty, but it'll last forever.

My next car's going to be a pre-1990 Civic, four wheels and an engine. Is your keyless, push-button ignition really an innovation, or just a Jetsonian piece of gimmicky futurism? Is it really that hard to turn a key? 

No, it's not. And until cars are levitating above magnetic streets or driving my commute for me, there's no reason to spend upwards of $50,000 on a toy that's going to cost me my rent when my inspection comes due, all because something I never needed, or wanted, refuses to work. 

Philadelphia's Mt. Sinai Hospital

Some have called it the Divine Lorraine of South Philadelphia. Pennsport's Mt. Sinai Hospital closed its doors in 1997, and for the past 18 years, developers and neighbors have been bickering over what to do with it, the unfortunate consensus being that it be demolished for modestly scaled row-homes.

Truth be told, Mt. Sinai does seem out of place. Surrounded by typical South Philadephia row-homes and some less-than-steller infill to its south, Mt. Sinai stands out atop the South Philadelphia skyline giving it, well, a skyline.

For more than 90 years, Mt. Sinai was South Philadelphia's hospital, and for 90 years the neighborhood surrounding it changed very little. It's hard to imagine emergency vehicles, visitors, and the sheer number of employees it staffed getting in and out of the facility. It's equally baffling that the surrounding neighborhood didn't evolve to account for the hospital's traffic, both on feet and tires. 

While other hospitals are surrounded by chain restaurants, convenience stores, and retail amenities, the mammoth Mt. Sinai is surrounded by an unaffected South Philadelphia. For that reason, it makes perfect sense that neighbors would just like to see it gone.

But their reasoning is not so rational, and like most South Philadelphia hissy fits, it's squarely centered on parking. 

The most recent proposal would call for its demolition, and that it be replaced with 95 townhouses. While the community did suggest that current plans were unfriendly to pedestrians and cyclists, there seemed to be no understanding of how the plan's 134 parking spaces would impact the site's experience for those without cars. 

In fact, if the discussion on PlanPhilly is any indication, it would seem that community members actually view the site's abundance of allocated parking as a boon for pedestrianization, as if 134 cars will be sitting idle and collecting dust.

Let's be honest. South Philadelphia's traffic and parking is a pitiful situation, one not helped by underwhelming access to rail and a general sense of entitlement amongst longtime residents. In addition to the illogical assumption that 134 parking spaces can be bucketed with pedestrians and cyclists, nothing is getting built in South Philadelphia without parking until the area's mentality gets an upgrade.

But that is exactly where Mt. Sinai could shine. As an existing building, it could be converted into condos or apartments without allocated parking. I'm sure Brown Hill wants to make as much money as possible from the site, and tacking on parking adds a huge chunk of change But what profit would be lost from lack of parking would be made up from a lack of demolition and new construction costs. 

Plus, apartment buildings, even condos, bring a different type of tenant. Row-homes attract two-car families, but apartments attract single residents, empty-nesters, and millennials, many of which use public transportation and don't have cars. If Brown Hill did want to provide parking for the hospital's conversion, its 80s-era addition could be demolished for a lot or garage, offering up the most profitable scenario of all: renovation in lieu of new construction, higher density, and less demolition. Not to mention, a beleaguered landmark would be salvaged.  

The Cheesy Corner of 15th and Market

What was once dubbed the "World's Most Elaborate Cheesecake Factory" is now open, complete with valet parking...'cause this ain't the Olive Garden. Anchoring the first floor is a new Verizon store. While Verizon's attempt to rethink cellphone stores as something on scale with Mac, Verizon made no attempt to integrate this location with its unique host. I will give its branded decor one thing: Verizon really knows what people in 1991 thought 2005 might look like.

But the Cheesecake Factory didn't do the building any favors either. Instead of embracing the stellar architecture gracing the corner of 15th and Walnut, the Factory brought in its own branded architecture and slapped it haphazardly on the east end of the facade. 

Bohlin Cywinski Jackson's wild building at 15th and Walnut is already being dubbed the "cheesecake building," and that's unfortunate because nothing about this building says "cheesy." The Factory's culinary standards might be a little higher than the OG or Bertucci's, but when it comes to the company that got its start in Beverly Hills, their corporate standards are on par with Johnny Rocket's. 

The Cheesecake Factory is certainly true to their Los Angelean roots: opulence for the sake of opulence without an ounce of restraint. All it needs is a few faux marble columns and some nondescript Roman statuary. It's not what people think of when they think, "Beverly Hills," it is Beverly Hills.

It's really too bad that Philadelphians only had about a week to appreciate the beauty of this building before it was hijacked by chain-store branding tactics, because what stands before us today pales in comparison to the architecture being masked by kitsch. I get it, corporate businesses want to be seen, and truthfully, this isn't nearly as bad a Time's Square Friday's. But Philadelphians - argue with me if you want - set higher standards for our city's aesthetics than New Yorkers.

At least the Cheesecake Factory didn't build the building at 15th and Walnut or we might have wound up with another Hilton Home2 disaster. But the Factory could have used this unique space to create a unique Cheesecake Factory.

New York City Has Lost Its Mind

Did you that know you can rent a place in one of New York's most pompous neighborhoods for just $22 a night? You can! I'll get to that in a moment.

airbnb is revolutionizing the way we vacation. Despite startup hiccups similar to those plaguing Uber - questionable legality, proprietary market regulations, general service uncertainty - it's doing one helluva job finding customers...and capital.

A few months ago, two friends relocating to Portland, OR used airbnb to find a cozy bungalow priced well below a modest hotel room for an entire week, and they made some new friends in the process. With their relocation confirmed, they'll be spending several months with their amateur hoteliers learning the tricks of the new trade, and this time they're only paying for groceries. 

As in the early days of car-sharing and house-swapping programs, airbnb uses technology as a resource, but still retains a relatively casual vibe. It makes sense, especially when you're opening your home to strangers. Basically, even if you participate in airbnb, you don't want these strangers to be strangers. You might want to get to know who will be sleeping in your bed.

But reason has a threshold, and like many of the most absurd ventures, it comes straight from New York City's cash strapped renters and homeowners and the city's desperate attempt to be unique and kitschy. 

So what about that $22 bed amongst Manhattan's upper crust? Well it popped up on airbnb. For less than $100 a night, you can have sweeping views of the New York City skyline, find a place to sleep near the hottest clubs, in fact you can literally have a bed anywhere in Manhattan you'd like to be. That's because you're renting a mattress in the back of a "van down by the river."

Yes, you read that right. New Yorkers are renting out vans as hotel rooms. Where do you S, S, and S? Well, most claim to be parked near public restrooms. Those that don't "offer" facilities, I guess Burger King is always an option. Shower? Why soil such a bohemian experience with cleanliness. This is a Dickensian bedroom for the 21st Century. 

It's also a case of life imitating art, as American Dad!'s Stan Smith tried to prove to his slacker daughter that he could live on $900 a month. To do so, he bathed in public fountains, survived on free samples of pizza bagels, and slept in the back of a Pontiac Aztec.

Migrants, Ibrahim, Mingora-Philadelphia

Apparently I'm a bit behind on my Philadelphia murals and the works of famous street artists. Walking down Chestnut Street something caught my eye: one gigantic mural of Enrique Iglesias!

What? Why? I mean I love Enrique Iglesias, but why here?

Well, obviously I was wrong. 

It's actually a gigantic mural by a French street artist known only as "JR." The fifteen story mural of Ibrahim Saha, a Pakistani immigrant and Philadelphia resident, on the Graham Building is tucked in a small side street. Titled Migrants, Ibrahim, Mingora-Philadelphia, it is part of a global series focusing on immigration issues.

The mural is pretty astounding, even in just its size and photographic realism. Although not as abstract or unusual as JR's other works around the world, the large black and white portrait along Philadelphia's emerging shopping strip might get mistaken for a Calvin Klein billboard by some less informed passing by, myself obliviously included.