"You Rice-A-Roni-sucking dot-com bobo rube"

A New Yorker replies to King Kaufman's thoughts on a Subway Series.

 

Oct 18, 2000 | Most of the time, it's possible to ignore all the anti-New York sentiment flying around the provinces and chalk it up to a natural by-product of being at the top. It's the same phenomenon as when a hotter-than-hot model walks into a restaurant: Most of the other women there either want to be her or want to kill her. Those who are secure enough in their identities don't think twice about her, and can simply appreciate her beauty from an aesthetic point of view. But King Kaufman is one of the jealous bitches.

Putting aside the fact that most anti-New York sentiment has its shallow foundation in racism and xenophobia (I mean, John Rocker isn't an aberration, simply a representative) it's just really fucking old by this point. New Yorkers are a proud and boisterous lot because we've earned it. To live successfully in New York you have to be faster, smarter, funnier, prettier and more interesting. That's WHY this city attracts the people it does from all over the world. I can literally lean over my balcony here in Queens, shout something about the Mets making it into the World Series, and have demands for me to shut the fuck up shouted back at me in Urdu, Korean, Farsi, Chinese, Greek, Italian, Russian and English. Can you do that, King?

The fact is, until the rest of the country comes to terms with the unique place New York occupies on the world stage, we're going to have to listen to this endless bellyaching from every last bumfuck cowtown that claims it has the biggest and most impressive stalk of corn this side of wherever. That's fine. But do we really have to be subjected to tired old tirades about "New Yawk" accents and "Fughettabahtit" (and it's spelled "Fughettabowdit," you Rice-A-Roni-sucking dot-com bobo rube) at a time when we're all beside ourselves with anticipation and elation?

You know what, Kaufman, you bitchy little bitch? You're just gonna hafta deal wit' two fuckin' weeks of braggadocio, Piazza and Jeter, before being able to forget that there's a city three thousand miles away that your city has wanted to be from the get-go. Until then, you and your 284,999,999 comrades can choke on our "two weeks of subway self-absorption" AND my dick. It's Subway Series time, baby! YEAH!

-- John Giuffo
Queens, N.Y.

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