So we hold our glasses of mediocre Chardonnay, pick at little watercress, bread-enveloped triangles, while I long for herring filets and vodka. I mean, we're all Jewish, for God's sake!Help me out here, guys: Who throws these parties? At most of the parties I attend, guests drink not mediocre Chardonnay, but cheap beer, and talk about all sorts of stuff before politics. As these parties are in New York City, most of us don't like Bush, but the subject is little discussed, and I can't recall any occasion on which a host has asked us to raise our glasses in an oath of assassination (though my memory of some of these soirees is admittedly a bit hazy).
Then our host chants the liberal mantra: "Bush has alienated us from the rest of the world. Europe hates us. The Muslims hate us. He's taking us into an abyss!"
The crowd raises their goblets, yelling "Kill Bush."
The author claims the social indoctrination sessions he describes (and was presumably forced to attend as some sort of community service) took place in Westport -- which he renders "Leftport," several times, which notion of humor may hint at the real reason for his social failures. But get this: he expects to solve that problem by moving from Leftport -- to New York City! Specifically the Meatpacking District. One imagines him, tie flipped over his shoulder, attempting to order a decent Chardonnay at Hogs & Heifers, or pushing Bush literature on the crowd at Florent.
Lotsa luck, buddy.
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