1) Manhattan. Lay-up, little interesting to say. I lived there once...
2) Staten Island. Yeah that's right! Staten Island! Borough of Parks, The Fifth Borough, Should Be Part Of New Jersey. I'm from there! I'm putting it up at #2! Just try and stop me!
3) Brooklyn. Home sweet home, currently. Yesterday was the first day of my life I spent entirely inside of Brooklyn, as far as I can remember. Not bad at all. Could advance in the rankings, if it provides me with enough interesting things to do or if I forget that I'm from Staten Island. Staten Island!
4) The Bronx. To be fair, I haven't been to some of the better parts of the Bronx, but even if I had been, I doubt it'd compare much to the first three. I am very proud of myself for not letting my Yankee fandom blind me into ranking this one higher.
5) Queens. Useless. Complicated. Dangerous. Mets.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Ranking The Boroughs
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4 comments:
Queens. Queens has uses. It provides us with airports. When people think of NYC having people from all countries living next to each other, that idea is best embodied in Queens. Plus, Coming To America was a sweet movie.
Aside from the older areas, Queens has the most logical addressing system I've ever seen. Witness its glory: Where the hell is 56-38a 184th Street? Easy. It is on 56th avenue, house number 38, apartment A, on 184th Street. From the address, we know precisely where that apartment is. Where exactly is 813 8th avenue in Brooklyn or 1185 6th Ave in Manhattan? Exactly. QUEENS RULES!
Additionally, while I mourn the loss of that old lady that died, and agree that too many people die on Queens Blvd, you should have at least noted that street's nickname: the Boulevard of Death. C'mon, when ranking NYC street nicknames, that's gotta rank pretty high.
Most importantly, GO METS! We shall feast on the shell that once held the man Randy Johnson! We shall feast on shells!
Oh, and let's not forget the most famous resident of Queens. That's right: SpiderJew.
Wow, j, I have to admit that responding to 911 dispatches in that kind of setup would be a Goddamned wet dream.
No map book, no nothing. Just ostentatiously putting your hands behind your head, elbow straight out. One foot up on the fire engine windowsill. Rollin. Replace the siren with a recorded dog's yawn.
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