I don’t really understand my new, and let me make this clear, adopted (in a very hostile sense), neighborhood, which is called the upper east side. let’s paint a scene together, of a guy walking around for to kill the hour in between the end of the fifth seinfeld rerun of the evening and kickoff for monday night football. (the game turned out to be much more boring than seinfeld i had seen nine times before. i blame al michaels, whose late-career heel makeover into a republican gambling addict paleo-conservative is sort of stunning, as well as john madden. no matter how much john madden knows about football, he knows the inverse amount about expressing ideas effectively in the english language.)
anyway, adjust your weltanschauung for a late-evening stroll along the sidewalks of a swell-intensive sector of NYC. my immediate observations:
everyone is walking a puppy. this cannot be normal. if dogs were perennial, i might understand, but these dogs won’t be puppies in 3-6 months. will everyone be walking young adult dogs at that point? my paranoid side says that either a lot of those garbage bags on the sidewalk are filled with discarded puppies, or these dogs are on some Gattaca shit. they’re being scientifically altered, with saws and shit, to resemble jude law, or as the case may be, permanently remain puppies. it’s a sick goddamn world these people live in.
before i leave, i had one more potshot to take at new yorkers, which is that the one thing, if you asked them what one thing do you, generic new yorker, have in spades? that one thing, when you asked them that, would be style, or class, is my guess. i would posit that this is actually the opposite of the truth. jesus christ. i need to take five here.