The Social Media Generation has had it pretty good with pets.  From Boston Terriers to purse puppies to highly bloggable tabby “kittehs,” we've been afforded a calvary of beasts whose mere appearance inspires “awwws” and “lols,” bringing a whimsical smile to even the most cynical and cold CEOs of this economically-haggard nation.

But over the years, these animals have gotten tired.  Another​ captioned cat pic doesn't elicit the same “likes” it did years ago, and comedy pros have come to lament the use of cliche cute animals to elevate otherwise mediocre comedy.  How do we climb out of this four-legged recession?

The fashionable folks of Brooklyn have it all figured out: pigs!  You'll be strolling down the boutique-lined streets of Williamsburg when your nose catches a scent, “Man, this place reeks ​pig piss.”  Then you turn a corner to find a hulking swine with its snout deep in a rusty drivetrain, urinating in disgust at a clunky, neglected bicycle.  As you follow the pig's leash to its owner, you notice the owner's laugh as she becomes conscious of her and her lil' piggy's joint taste in transportation.  “Yeah Oinks! If I could, I'd tinkle on that hunk of shit too!”

Next thing you know, you're pinching your nose shut and leaning over for a choice shot of a judgmental hog in a muscle shirt ​just letting go on Metropolitan Ave.  The internet has been saved, praise lordy!  Let's prance out to the Central Valley and adopt the very pets we ran away from when we moved to The Big City in the first place!

I'm in NYC for a quick spell (in Williamsburg, of course—obviously) and I'm finding that the two dueling cool cultural capitals of their respective coasts have a lot more in common than they might expect.  Like hating LA.  Sure, everyone from NYC and SF might poke fun at each other, but goddamnit, we all hate LA more.  It's smoggy and car-centric and gross and people invest money in sizing up their boobs and jesusfuckingchrist their weather is perfect—who does LA think it is?

Serra Bowl's imminent closing is understandably bumming out bowlers and Big Lebowski fan boys and girls alike, but one aspect of its shuttering is oft-overlooked: the loss of its much loved karaoke bar.  Luckily for those of us who are more prone to making an ass out of ourselves on the stage than the lanes, Todd Wanerman of The Bay Bridged penned a fine look at what we're losing:

The impeccable vintage 49ers photos and headlines have been taken down, but, other than that, nothing here suggests that Serra Bowl is about to become – on April 15th – the latest venerable, authentic Bay Area institution to fall victim to time and tide. A steady parade of humanity flows through its oddly small and hard-to-find double glass doors.

In the denuded Sports Lounge, the notoriously cranky DJ is presiding over a jubilantly defiant (or were they defiantly jubilant?) throng. Every few minutes or so, he reminds the assembled that April 14th will see no karaoke, but a closing night party we won’t want to miss.

Keep reading for additional words and pictures.