The Wall Street Journal, renowned for its great humor writing, has thrown down the gloves to take a few barefisted swipes at Los Angeles, on the verge of the Stanley Cup Final.
Among the sly comic treasures in it's article, titled "A Rangers Fan's Guide to Los Angeles":
"True fact: Entire city of Los Angeles is closed on Thursday so everyone can catch up on 'Game of Thrones.'"
Evidentially, Dorothy Parker doesn't live there anymore.
Look, we know we're a big ripe target. We are richer and overly enhanced. We have more pot dispensaries than burger joints.
To improve our schools, we recently gave all the students Nintendo machines.
We have no seasons, no shade, hardly even a decent shadow.
Last time there was shade in L.A., Sofia Vergara stood on a chair and turned profile. Even that was fleeting (though 400 publicists tweeted it).
Our freeways are awful and our air is atrocious -- on the very worst days, dark roasted. You can cut it with a pair of scissors.
We are the movie capital of the universe, but the last time we made a good movie was 1974. From the looks of things, we may never make a good one again.
When we think of New Yorkers, we think of those portly little men on Monopoly cards, constipated and carrying pocket watches.
When we think of New Yorkers, we think of people who wear wool in June and cuff links to the driving range.
Heck, there are men in New York who haven't even had work done or joined a cult.
And you call yourself a city.
So put a cork in it, New York -- or in your case two corks. Our hockey team can beat up your hockey team and soon will. That's what counts.
And when it's over, you're still stuck with Woody Allen.