THEY'VE GOT BUGS

One of my friends really likes New York, and visits at least once a year. Another one, who since October 7 has lost his mind, lives there. Being a rational man I naturally hope the best for both gentlemen, as well as a speedy recovery. Having seen both Midnight Cowboy and Trevor Noah I know how hard that must be. The best that can be said for New York is Kramer, the worst is Newman. And no soup for you.

Another friend is bizarrely taken with New York Pizza. Now that I can understand. As a San Franciscan, given a choice between high-fallutin' hipster ramen, California Pizza, Chigago deep-dish, and New York Pizza, I will always choose the last mentioned. Dude, this is real; the flour was kneaded by big-ass working class cockroaches using all their arms and elbows, this cheese was grated by rats wearing greasy Knicks baseball caps, artisanal paint chips from the Guggenheim museum collection were incorporated into the crust, and the counter worker got syphilis from a tranny taxi driver. And it tastes like all of that.
Better than being mugged on the subway. It's good

Yadda yadda yadda to you, good sir.


But basically, I have no plans to ever go there. Any travel plans for the near-future include Honduras and Hong kong as possibilities. The first for cigars, the second for Portuguese Chicken Rice and hot milk tea, plus tomato omelette. That last at a family-run open air restaurant in Central well-known for using fresh tomatoes, lots of them.

So yeah, I'm not into the East Coast thing. A certain tolerance verging on slight fondness, largely cause by reading Pnin and Pale Fire by Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov, as well as the existence of old tobacconists near Ivy League institutions, plus occasional forays into cheesecake, perfected there using an ingredient my great great grandfather was instrumental in bringing to the market, but erm, um, and meh.
I'm decidedly apathetic.


Plus of course there are bedbugs. Apparently they're all over New York. One keeps reading about that. High-priced accommodations with bedbugs crawling out of the woodwork.
Sounds magical. Totally.



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