Monday, June 25, 2012

Ugh. Whatcha Say Whatcha Say, Ugh. New York*


I hate New York. Let me rephrase—I tire of New York. I tire of television’s depictions of New York, whereby ANYONE can make it. I thought the whole deal was “if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere!” Apparently not. You want to impress me? Make it in Phoenix. That place blows.

I tire of people falling in love in New York, but then almost not getting together, but then getting together right when the lights of some building flicker on. Fuck you. I tire of people in New York being “neurotic” and thus “interesting” instead of “neurotic” and thus “eat shit”. 

this guy made it
I tire of the Knicks, who haven’t been relevant since Clinton was throwing late night cigar parties. I tire of Spike Lee’s camera-close-up rants. It’s not subversive anymore, you little troll; it’s just derivative racism. Eli Manning? Oof. 

I know I’m in the minority here. I realize that New York is the center of everything. New York is our cultural power source. It’s the reason America as a land mass didn’t move any farther west. Why is everything accepted in California? Because those poor folks are too far from the power source! They don’t have the strength to fight it! What “it”? Any fucking it!

It’s the same reason people in my home state of Alabama are so stubbornly fucking backwards. See, Alabama is entirely too close to the power source. Don’t ever let rednecks drink the redneck juice and redneck too close to the power source or them rednecks will just redneck other rednecks into a big redneck**.

This morning I see that the New York Mets played the New York Yankees in a baseball game and all the world is smitten! Two New York teams play New York in New York? New! York! There’s a subway!

Make contact or me and mom
don't love you anymore. 
Look, my father wasn’t a baseball fan and neither was my grandfather or my older brother. Mom didn’t watch it. Grandma didn’t watch it. Nobody in my family watched baseball. Love of sports (by and large) is a learned condition. You watched games with an older family member, a mentor, a creepy postman. No child ever actually walked onto a playground, saw all the sports being offered there and said, “Oooohhhh! That one! That one where people stand still most of the time! I want to do that one because I just don’t have the energy for the others!”

No. Didn’t happen. You ever go to a little league game and see a fly ball land and roll right passed the center fielder who’s staring at cloud shapes and chasing nose goblins? He’s fucking bored. The coach has to yell at him to get his head in the game. Scars him for life! Years later he’s calling me to ask if we can go watch the Mets/Yankees game. No. No we cannot.

Two teams who play baseball in the same city played one another. Makes perfect sense to me. But this morning I thought all the excitement was over a cancer cure, or world hug-it-out day, or Nickelback had exploded into a beautiful firework, or Kanye West had disappeared. You’re this excited over baseball? There are 14,000 more games. Is it the subway?


* I love Hip-Hop. Thank you, thank you, thank you, New York, for Hip-Hop. 

** There's no real point in bringing up what's actually backwards with regards to education, institution of a lottery for better funding, the university's specific navigation of racism, immigration, corrupt local government, etc., because all anyone else hears is the word "redneck". That's why the same southern jokes still slay, somehow. People see no problem with regionalism. Cool. I mean, fuck off, but cool. 






No comments:

Post a Comment