There is just something about having on my table a copy of this newspaper that I bought in town. And there is just something about its being an old newspaper, with urban tradition. I am so urban, it is pathetic.
The dining room is a shrine to New Orleans at the moment, with its old Neville Brothers poster, its photograph of Hurricane Katrina victims, and the paper; the speakers there are streaming WWOZ. Must we leave home?
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 
I’m also a profoundly urban person currently exiled in the depths of rural Midwest. Or maybe this area is considered suburban, I have no idea. It’s not like there’s any real difference anyway.