Hi there! Welcome back to the Justice's five-or-so square inches of page space dedicated to the celebrity sludge and filth that our highbrow University patrons are meant to rise so high above. Feeling sad now? My apologies. But don't reach for that copy of War and Peace just yet, I'm actually about to strengthen your cognitive faculties, not corrode them. Pop culture, short for popular culture (if you just gasped at that realization, please turn in your letter of withdrawal from this school), can actually be engaging and stimulating on a small enough scale, a fact that I discovered on my recent global journeys during winter break. Each culture is in itself an educational, and occasionally hilarious, microcosm with its own popular trends. So instead of dumping the usual dirt on you dear and devoted readers, I thought that instead I would annoint you with the oil and ivory tales of my recent travels and the trends I discovered therein.

First stop, my hometown of Jerusalem. (Israel, that is. Turned in that letter yet?) This being the nation where I was raised for a portion of my teen years, I could probably write a book on it, but for the purpose of this article (taking up five-or-so square inches of space that I couldn't find anything else for), I'll stick to only the most noticeable trends. First up, hair color. Evidently, many moons ago, someone claiming to be a serious authority on the subject of fashion came to the Holy Land and spake these words: Thou shalt color your hair the shade of your favorite food! Or at least that's the only explanation I can come up with to explain why every woman over the age of 30 seems to color their hair like an eggplant. I mean, it is a very popular food there.

Next up, the emo/myspace wave that has long since left American shores caked in an oil spill of eyeliner and hair gel is finally reaching the Mediterranean sea. Cruising the sidewalks of Jerusalem, lookin' fly as always, I was disturbed by the number of Israeli youth who have decided to drasically raise Israel's already-staggering per capita hair gel use to new heights.

Next up, I crossed the Mediterranean puddle to the absoulutely lovely Spanish port city of Barcelona. Worth noting first was the food. After spending roughly the last year entirely in the confines of the Waltham/Brandeis area, I was delighted to bathe for a week in a sea of shellfish and succulent bacon. Needless to say, a return to the kosher-conscious Brandeis campus has struck a blow to my livelihood.

Upon visiting the popular beach hangouts and clubs, I was suprised to discover that Spain's favorite national pastime was none other than pickpocketing. In the course of one New Year's evening, I counted as many as several attempts on my pants pockets. Though I thwarted each one, my assailants showed great sportsmanship, apologizing and then striking up a friendly conversation with me, during which I briefed them on their theft technique.

Musically, Spaniards seemed somwhat inept. Though I make no claims to dancing fame, I was practically a dancefloor dynamo in the face of the robot-strutting, mashed potato club crowds I encountered. They also seem to be a little behind on current club hits. Coolio's decade-plus-old hit "Gansta's Paradise" was played at each of the clubs I visited and greeted with unrestrained enthusiasm at least twice. Simply fascinating.

Well, it seems like that's all the space we've got for this edition, young children. I guess we'll have to wrap this up another time. You can hear all about my trip to the Las Vegas airport, where I made $3 out of $1, and lost it all.