The Legend of Brooklyn

Once upon a time, many years ago, as far back as the late '90s, in a faraway village called East, there lived a group of twentysomethings. They were all recent college graduates, some from Pratt, some from NYU -- though the latter would be quick to tell you they were in Gallatin, and all bankrolled by parents they liked to pretend they didn't have.

They were happy in their little Village, and rarely left, until one fateful day, when the Villagers found themselves with a lot of time on their hands. You see, unsuccessful dotcom start-ups pretty much ran themselves, they couldn't watch TV because they all pretended they hated TV, and none of the Villagers was due to get a new face tattoo anytime soon. So they decided to go on adventure.

"Where should we go?" cried one, as she fiddled with her lip ring.

"We could go West," suggested another.

"No, not West! West is the Land of the Men Who Are Gay Unironically. We cannot go west," explained the first.

"How about South?" offered a third Villager.

"No, not South! I had Chinese for lunch," said another, running his hand through his dreadlocks.

They all knew they could not go North, for they were afraid of North. North was the domain of the People in Suits, and the Villagers were terrified the People in Suits would trap them in their cubicle dungeons. So that left only . . .

"East? How can we go East? East is only water!" wondered the Villagers.

"Then we will CROSS the water!" declared the bravest of them all.

So they all put on their tightest jeans, and packed some kimchi for the road, and departed on their journey to cross the water, which they did via the L train.

And lo and behold, once they made it to the other side, they were rewarded for their bravery and cunning, for the found a land of riches, a magical land no one had ever seen before. There were dive bars as far as the eye could see, vintage clothing shops on every corner, and not a single Starbucks. Indie music filled the air, PBR flowed like water, and a faint scent of pot tingled their noses.

The Villagers cried in delight, and hugged each other -- but, you know, ironically. "We have discovered the promised land! A land no one has ever seen before! We will call it Brooklyn. Here we can dwell, and open pottery studios!"

And so they stayed, and they live there to this day.

Commemorate their historic journey with this t-shirt, $16 through Sunday.

If Brooklyn's So Great, Why Are You HERE?

Well, I am locked in my bedroom as a TV interview is being conducted in my living room. First the interviewer/sound guy/cameraman insulted my neighborhood. Then the man told me how great his neighborhood, South Williamsburg, is. This happened only hours after I complained (ranted) on Facebook about not being able to bear one more person's extolling the virtues of hip Brooklyn. Someone should tell this man how rude it is to a) insult your host's neighborhood, while in her living room, when perhaps nobody knows exactly where you went and therefore where to search for the body and b) to chat about the people living in your new, hip neighborhood for generations before you got there as if you are observing them in some sort of zoo. Also, learn to pronounce their sect's name - they are not 'the Satmire.'

And so, while stuck in my room, I am shopping. Are these not great? I know a certain hipster in my living room would not think so, because they are $20 and come from Old Navy. But I can quadruple their price, put them in an eco-bag with with the name of a store in some fake Brooklyn neighborhood ("Redhook Heights Vicinity" - or better yet, "DoWiSeTrePla") and watch him snap up a pair for his overly pierced ("it's art") girlfriend.

PS - the color is "Black Jack" which I misread, and preferred, as "Jack Black.