We were talking the other day [Note: This is Balk, btw, and officious diktats be damned, I'm still using "we." I came onto the Internet using "we," and that's the way I'm going out. But I digress: In this case, the "we" actually does refer to all of us, who, when not trying to undermine each other, do occasionally have group conversations] about how nothing is going on in New York these days. As people whose paychecks depend on spinning newsworthy events into nugget-sized bursts of meaningless information with predictable jokes appended, this presents a bit of a problem and causes no end of frustration and anger (hence Doree's vicious outburst against the loveable Cary Tennis yesterday). [Ed. Note: Actually that was Balk. Quit it.] But it's not just us; surely you've noticed it too? Where are the Suris of yesteryear? This morning we came across something that helped us understand whither all this nothingness.
A gentleman found a lost purse on the street last Saturday. When multiple attempts to find its owner proved fruitless, he brought the bag to his local precinct house. The constabulary congratulated him on his honesty and promised to reunite the pocketbook and its owner. After a brief series of misunderstandings, a woman and her handbag were together one more, and a man's faith in his city's police force was restored. It's a lovely, touching story, and it is wholly indicative of why there's fuck all happening in town these days: You people are all out being nice to each other. What the fuck? This is New York! Dude should have stolen the broad's identity and racked up major credit card bills at a minimum. You people are killing us with all the friendliness and shit. Either you get out there now and start being dicks to each other or you prepare yourselves for an endless series of funny CNN headline screen caps. And don't think we won't do it. We've been saving them up for months.
NYC police not so bad, and hey, neither are the people who live here. [NYC Stories.org]