The United Way and the Community Service Society have just released a slew of demographic maps of New York City, which handily answer the question: Are The Poors in your hood? Pictured, the household income map (click to enlarge), which is perhaps most surprising for revealing that Williamsburg, despite its yuppie influx, is still broke, along with HOT HOT NEXT BIG THING neighborhoods like Bushwick, Bed-Stuy, et al. After the jump, neighborhood-specific maps of the city showing unemployment rates, immigrant populations, and "disconnected youth" who aren't working, in school, or concerned about you very much.

Manhattan really let itself go. Here to the right is a topographic map of the upper part of the island, before the landfill that expanded its girth. (Also, why do modern maps have to be so ugly?) Click on the thumb to expand.

Hey, remember that fun project I was doing about media haunts? Well, it's come to fruition. Click the image for a detailed map of where New York journalists drink. Now, finally, you too can drink where New York's journalists drink. Anything missing? Let us know. [Map via Gridskipper]

Gawker video guru Richard Blakeley MASHED-UP two of the New York Times' interactive newsmaps: one showing the deadly path of Tuesday's tornadoes, the other showing which Democratic candidates won which states on Super Tuesday. The results: does God hate Hillary? (And note: Obama won Alabama, but Hillary won each county in that state with a recorded death from Tuesday's storms.) Click to enlarge map. [NYT, NYT]

[Full-scale map at Streeter Seidell's personal blog]

Thanks to the support of the good folks at the New York Times and the National Science Foundation, you can now enjoy Social Explorer's Race Map of New York City. Wondering how many Asians there were in Staten Island in 1940? The information is at your fingertips! There are plenty of other fun and functional uses for the site, and we want to congratulate the Times for its sponsorship: While they may be cutting back on the softball-related expenses, at least their reporters can now easily find out, you know, where all the black folks are at.

Google's sprawling, cheerfully dystopian campus at Mountain View may intimidate the first-time visitor. But there's no need to fear. The easy rule of thumb dictates that the most concentrated power centers gravitate toward the middle (where the engineers and their excellent cafeterias reside). But once you get past the first impressions, you'll need a little guidance. After the jump, enjoy our annotated map of 25 sights to take in across the entire Google campus before you die, and/or are killed by Google's very understanding but nevertheless lethal security forces. Dinosaurs! Pools! Massage parlors! Endless bowls of bisque! It's all here.

We asked, and you answered. (We also got a little help from the the folks at the Observer). Here, in all its glory, is Gawker's Holiday Party Guide. (Click to enlarge). The full list of corresponding events is after the jump (including the location of the top secret Vogue party.) Print and use, and let us know if you get in to anything good.

Now do you really need the location where Fabian Basabe keeps his unfortunate beard-bride prisoner? If so, peruse this map of Manhattan socialite homes. It's a toss-up between useless and inaccurate, but at least it doesn't track Mike Myers and his hockey stick.

In a short interval between panda strokes and greenmarket browsing, Gothamist launches their News Map, a Google Maps contraption that tracks raw data from emergency calls around New York. Only the most bare minimum of data, and some of the truncated call event descriptions (especially those in the "Unmapped Incidents" box) are kind of hilarious. "Shots Fired" and "Perp Search" are pretty self-explanatory, but how do the authorities handle an "Unusual Occurence" at Battery Place and West Street? Lots of outer-borough danger as well; Brooklyn sports a "Bias Attack" and "Trauma," among other unpleasantness.

Over the course of our weeklong Meatpacking District cluster-klatch, we've outlined the problem, filled in the history, and outlined our case against quite a few of the worst local offenders. There's not much left of the old Meatpacking District, and what's left in its place today may not be that pretty to look at. Nevertheless, join us in contemplating the Meatpacking District that once was and could be again, merging our own hopes and dreams with demands sent in by readers. Fully annotated retro-futurist map after the jump.

You may recall that we kicked off our little foray into assassinating the Meatpacking District with a simple map of the area. One thing that always amazes us is how small the neighborhood is — just a handful of blocks really, but such concentrated evil. That said, and despite all rumors to the contrary, our mission here at Gawker is ultimately redemptive. Sure, we're trying to dissuade those people who still swarm the Meatpacking District from ever doing so again, and there's a certain appeal in the idea of quarantining it behind high walls and razor wire, cutting it adrift from Manhattan, paving it over with creosote, etc. But surely there are more constructive solutions.

No one in New York needs to be told to stay away from the Meatpacking District, that little slice o' damnation by the Hudson just below 14th Street. Why, then, does the place continue to pulse like Sodom, Gomorrah, and the Las Vegas Strip all rolled into a giant distasteful enchilada? The obvious answer — especially if you spend time there — is that the Meatpacking District is increasingly populated by tourists hailing not just from outside Manhattan, but outside New York, or even outside New Jersey. Of course, there's still plenty of local lookie-loos and eager guidos who call the Meatpacking District their second home most every weekend night. They don't even realize that most of their brethren have already moved eastward to befoul what's left of Rivington Street. Therefore, as a public service, we're passing along the only message worth hearing about the Meatpacking District: Stay away. Get out. Don't go. It's that simple. All this week, we'll beat this drum till it carries beyond Manhattan, to the ears that most need to hear the warning.

Apparently produced for the 1939 World's Fair, this "panoramic" map of New York has a weird perspective, both visual and historical. Various neighborhoods, landmarks, and structures are noted (the McGraw-Hill building gets a shout-out). Its best feature, though, is the "Ghetto" label over the Lower East Side. So much changes over the decades, and so much stays the same.

We asked, and you answered. Presenting the New York City Subway Smell Map, created with the able assistance of Gawker readers universe-wide. We've separated hundreds of reader smell reports into ten distinct categories of aromas: food, feces, vomit, sewage, perfume, alcohol, you name it. Glide your mouse over any subway station on the map to see the station name, subway lines, and smell categories. Click, and the popup expands to reveal Zagat-style excerpts from actual reader reports. Careful study and rote memorization of the smell map will allow you to navigate the subway system without even opening your eyes. Of course, you'll have to train your nose to distinguish the local urine varietals at each station, but that's a small price to pay. Note also that the map remains open to future submissions for stations not yet covered or stations currently under-covered. All due props to consummate mapmaker Will James at onNYTurf for use of his elegant subway map. Enjoy this finely interactive and cartographic work of investigative service journalism.

It's time again to check up on how the big dogs relate to each other. While blogger Om Malik chooses to say it with words, we chose fingerpaints. That was a disaster, so we made this graph.

Burgeoning with life just like the blooming corpse flower, our map of New York subway aromas has almost enough data to finish up and present itself to your delighted senses. But we can always use more tips as we head to the home stretch. Send your final thoughts on specific subway smells in particular subway stations to subwaystink@gmail.com, identifying station, subway line, and smell. Meanwhile, the Washington Post goes on an olfactory tour of summertime Manhattan, bringing along French perfumist Laurice Rahme and retired NYC garbageman Andrew Macchio for color commentary. Rahme is objectionable enough, with her neighborhood-specific perfume line (e.g. "Eau de Noho"). The idea came to her after "the attacks of 9/11 befouled the air of downtown Manhattan." Macchio, on the other hand, is eminently quotable. A few choice examples after the jump.

You may remember our recent call for submissions to the nascent subway smell map, a document we're creating to catalog New York subway station aromas. Response has been tremendous — so much so that we've decided to open up the call beyond Manhattan to include the outer boroughs and solicit aroma info from the entire NYC MTA subway system. Many readers sent in non-Manhattan odors anyway, but there are still plenty of gaps. We're not going to try and classify every single station in the system (turns out it's goddamn huge, who knew), but we'll get as many nailed down as possible. To that end, after the jump is a long list of stations/lines still waiting for input; never mind if you see dupes or apparent errors, as this is just a quickie rundown. Take a look, and if you know of a particular ordure unique to any, drop us a line in the comments below or at subwaystink@gmail.com. Be sure to note the station name, and try to be as specific (and as "colorful") as possible when describing the smell(s).

Yesterday's post on Curbed about the differing smells of New York subways vs. PATH tunnels (it's the brake pads, say the commenters) had us fondly remembering how certain MTA stations are known for particular aromas. Who can forget the rank urinary death-gauntlet in the transverse at 51st and Lexington? Or the infamous fish stink at Canal Street? Unfortunately, this level of detail has never been compiled in one place. Since we take our mission to serve the public very seriously, we've decided to construct an olfactory map of the Manhattan subway. And of course, we need your help. Certain stations already have obvious smell-tags, but we need more data. If you've identified a particular, persistent funk at any Manhattan subway station, submit it in the comments below or to subwaystink@gmail.com. Certain stations deserve special warnings for cyclical odors — some are particularly congenial for harboring vast clouds of B.O. during rush hour — so note that as well if appropriate.

Sightings are sent in by our readers and then posted to theGawker Stalker Map, so all evil tourists will know precisely where to go for some picture-perfect starfucking. Send yours to tips@gawker.com.