Like all young reporters - brilliant or hopelessly incompetent - I dreamed of the glamorous life of the foreign correspondent: prowling Vienna in a Burberry trench coat speaking a dozen languages to dangerous women narrowly escaping Sardinian bandits - the usual stuff that newspaper dreams are made of.

In New York City you can walk down the street and see a girl in a trench who looks equally as cool as a girl wearing Lululemon. It's like you're watching models. You see a little of everything right by you.

I'm a comic book artist. So I think to myself what do I like to draw? I like to draw hot chicks fast cars and cool guys in trench coats. So that's what I write about.

Gradually I became aware of details: a company of French soldiers was marching through the streets of the town. They broke formation and went in single file along the communication trench leading to the front line. Another group followed them.

The TV business is uglier than most things. It is normally perceived as some kind of cruel and shallow money trench through the heart of the journalism industry a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free and good men die like dogs for no good reason.

IQ is a commodity data is a commodity. I'm far more interested in watching people interact at a restaurant with their smartphone. We can all read 'Tech Crunch ' 'Ad Age.' I would rather be living in the trenches. I would rather be going to Whole Foods in Columbus Circle to watch people shop with their smartphones.