It’s that latter part that wrestles with the issue of consequence. “And then this happened…” (which is not that different in its logic from the Jim Jefferies joke on his I Swear to God where he jokes about people who don’t drink.) And that terminal point is always the same. The former, the Gladwellism of how things came to be, is interesting in itself but hits a terminal point. The far more interesting part of that cultural equation is usually the latter. The story of corporate folklore seems always to lead make to the stylings of Malcolm Gladwell–the epimyth being that something we never heard about happened at some point, and consequently, all our lives were changed in a radical albeit invisible way. “It’s beautiful in its simplicity,” Mike enthuses.īut so what? And far more importantly, where’s my coffee? As a small company in the middle-late 20th century, how does Ikea reduce shipping costs? They disassemble their products and ship the cost of installation, along with the parts, to the consumer. The beauty of Ikea, Mike holds, lies in their evolving an entirely new design ethic to answer a logistics problem. I like coffee, and in this unholy composite of a moment that is both predawn and post-game, I’d rather it were waves of coffee hitting me than waves of Mike K.’s analysis of Ikea. He attacks the problem of making the argument for Ikea head-on with the wit and charm, and intellectual sophistication that your Mom always tried to instill in you. tilting-at-the-world grin, he plows straight into why he likes Ikea. in the morning, long before coffee, looks as bright and as fresh as anything that you can imagine, and with a cavalier Mike K.

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