One must consider a wide range of criteria when purchasing a coffee maker, and “symbolism” is sensibly low on the list. But I am nonetheless concerned with our new coffee maker’s effect on the soul of this office.

It’s a seductive machine (that’s criterion #14, between “fits on the counter” and “non-toxic”). Instead of the 20th Century scooper method responsible for so many coffee pots of old, this machine accepts individual coffee capsules available in every conceivable flavor. Put your mug in place, select your desired size and the Machine whirrs into action, pleasantly humming its siren song as it blasts just the right amount of hot water through your coffee capsule and into your waiting receptacle. The result is a work of caffeinated art: a smooth, fragrant blend crafted just for you by the delicate fingers of your personal robo-barista. It all seems so magical.

At first.

I see now the terrible philosophical price we’ve paid for the Machine, sacrificing collective experience for individual satisfaction. Sure, the old coffee maker made bad coffee, but it was our bad coffee. We suffered together, through weakness and strength, through bitterness and grit, through cold and late-afternoon desperation reheating. There was a general feeling of, “if we can make it through this coffee, we can make it through anything.” At least that’s how I felt. Now we’ll never share that experience. It’s impossible. Instead we buy our own capsules and guard over them like mother crocodiles. Without exaggerating, I can say we’re witnessing the complete collapse of society.

Will I switch back to the old coffee maker? No. It’s gross. And I’m really enjoying this Caribou Coffee Caribou Blend (you can really taste the caribou). But I can still think back to a simpler time, a time when people shared lousy coffee, stories, and large animal pelts to hunker down amid the gathering winter storms. But that was two long weeks ago. I fear we’ll never see those days again, unless the new Machine breaks and we have to plug in the old one again. Until that day, stay away from my Gingerbread Blend.

THERE’S A PUPPY! HERE! IN THE STUDIO! IN THE STUDIO! HERE! A PUPPY!

OK, I’m all right. I couldn’t control myself for a second. Got a little crazy. Very little. Little like HIS ADORABLE LITTLE FACE AND HIS LITTLE PAWS AND FLOPPY EARS I JUST WANT TO SNUGGLE HIM WHOZASILLYGUY?

I’m back, I’m back. I’m calm. He’s a nine-week-old beagle named Wally and he enjoys being small and adorable, and becoming romantic with an unguarded arm. Sometimes he squeaks. He belongs to Stef, who treats him with the dignity required of someone entrusted with the care of another life. The search for a tiny Santa costume continues.

P.S. Check out our new Flash photo tool! Now you can enjoy not one, but THREE FULL-SIZE PUPPY PICTURES. Just click on the oranges in the bottom left corner.

Doubling in size. It takes a matter of months if you’re a baby. It takes a mushroom and a few seconds if you’re Mario. And if you’re a giant retail and lifestyle center in Queens, it only takes until 2011.

We’re talking about The Shops at Atlas Park. And we can prove it: they just put out a Tritonic-designed pamphlet saying so. They’re adding spaces for boutique retailers and big box stores, tree-lined walkways and green roofs, a medical center and plenty more parking. All this is in addition to the already-phenomenal tenant list.

But amidst all this change, at least one key feature will remain the same: Tritonic’s Queens pad will remain fresh as ever. So come visit and see what’s going on. And if you’re really ambitious, you could join the neighborhood.