The most famous New Yorker cover. Ever seen it? Thought not. By a guy named Steig. Go ahead. Blow it up with your fingers. Be my happy guest.
You get to do your own searches here. Far be it from me to tell you how. The pic ain’t just about New York. It’s about the power elite in the northeast. The country is just a huge geographical joke to them. And a class joke too. There’s a club you’d better belong to. If you don’t, you’re, well, a casualty, incipient or historical, but either way irrelevant. If you don’t believe me, ask the second most interesting man in the world, Harold Parmington. (He doesn’t always drink beer, because if he did there wouldn’t be any left.) He’s my wife’s second cousin and he can rebuild your Airstream from scratch in a week. How I know I can survive Obama; Harvard or not, I can do arc-welding. But enough about me…
Key point. The elect don’t like to be criticized by the vermin at large. You know. It’s much much better to be from Providence, Rhode Island, than Omaha, Nebraska.
Good news? Raebert doesn’t care who went to Exeter, Taft, or Choate. He would like some ketchup, tomato sauce or gravy instead.
Gravy’s good with the damn kibble. What’s the Boss barking about? Oh that. Easy. If you can’t get a Tafty, get a Choatie. Every hound knows that. Love the whole gay thing. Borzois are relieved as a group, believe me. Hah. I eat Borzois for breakfast. All hair, no brains. But I like tomato sauce with breakfast. Mommy?…
Thankfully, he’s right. Irony. They’re the ones dying day by day. We’re the ones living, thankful for each and every day. Raebert just burped. Oh. Right. He was making his usual contribution. Something called Screw’em. And the Yorkies they rode in on.
btw, if you search and find something, don’t help anybody else find what you found. Talk there, not here. That’s a courtesy I ask and require. I’m sure you will all cooperate.
This because Miss New York won the Miss America title? : )
I still love NYC.
Damn. You got me. I remember when Miss New York was always a hatchet faced secretary from the Bronx. When did they get put in charge of everything?
I’m kinda surprised the artist didn’t work DC and Hollywood in as honorary NYC suburbs. Keep all the Really Important People together, y’know.
Incidentally, while it does kind of look like Steig, the signature in the photo actually reads “Steinberg”. Is there more to this story?
Must be a typo. I’m the ultimate fan of Top Gear’s “Stig.”
We teach a lot of New Yorkers of all stripes, all boroughs here. I’d say about half of them are easy to spot, and they draw their identity for it. But the other half seems to want to leave a lot of it behind, be it their view of Central Park from their living room window, that bad corner in the Bronx, or the hipsters in Brooklyn. Some are dying to get back to the city after their little educational jaunt in the Connecticut countryside, but some are raised to be sick of it and sick of those who think there’s nothing better.
So I’m on both sides (equitable as ever, my Achilles heel) — I can’t stand so many of the cooler-than-thou NY crew, but there’s actually a lot about New York that I like. Never a home for me, but I’m glad I live within driving distance. Maybe it’s my relative youth talking.
I mean, how long did it take you to feel this way? And was it the people, the place itself, or both?