The always-readable Waiter Rant has turned to Road Ranting about New Yorkers.
As a proper Southern Gentlewoman I say, "Like Hell!"
Fifty-plus comments and it's just getting off the ground, people. If you lived in Florida, you'd know that Jersey drivers are the worst. I've lived in the world's largest city and never found Mexican drivers to be as bad as the bad Jersey drivers.
Are there good Jersey drivers? Are there good NY drivers? To read the comments you'd think Pennsylvania was walking away with the prize. If you have a dog in this fight, go join in the good-natured "dialogue among equals" there. Heh.
In another matchup, the Weblog Awards is on and I have a special request for all of you folks who dutifully waded into the Sullivan Sewer and secured certain shame to redound to Vman's glory.
Here is a chance to wash away all the horrible smelliness of that stagnant sewer, and vote in the glorious category of "Best Religious Blog". Time to go down to the river and pray.
Now, I wouldn't exactly call One Cosmos a religious blog, because it really isn't about "religion" (yes, scary quotes!) so much as it is about... Hmmm. Here's an example:
In short, as we discussed at length a couple of weeks ago, fate is precisely what interferes with our destiny. Or, to put it colloquially, if you remain on the path you're on, you're liable to end up where you're headed. Which could very well be a waste of a perfectly good cosmos. So if you see a fork in the transdimensional road, by all means take it.
How can you not vote for a guy who describes himself thus:
Who slides down the celestial firepole each morning, seizes the wheel of the cosmic bus, and embarks on a bewilderness adventure of higher nondoodling and overmental blogging? Who, hallowed be his gnome, loiters on the threshold of the transdimensional doorway, looking for handouts from Petey? Who, with Cousin Dupree's pliers and a blowtorch, yoinks the ancient sword from the stoned philosopher and shoves it in the breadbasket of metaphysical ignorance and tenure? Whose blog is the vertical church of the New Testavus for the Restavus, channeling the roaring torrent of O into the feeble stream of cyber-k? Whose absurcular mythunderstanding blows the locked doors of the empyrean off their rusty old hinges? Who lobs the first water balloon out the hotel window at the annual Raccoon convention? B'ob! Can you dig it?
With large doses of Van Morrison, Toots Mondello, the Honeymooners, and a cast of thousands, it's a Free For All excercise in curing your religion. Plus, it'll teach the Mackerel-Snackers not to stuff the ballot box. This is the Weblog Awards, not Minnesota! Holy War, Batman!
So, if all my metaphysically inclined readers could handle Sully, all of my reality-is-the-only-reality readers can certainly darken the door of the Weblog Awards without compromising their too-smart-for-the-rest of us creds. I won't tell a soul. Or even a non-soul!