Because we know Ravens fans love a good cornhole
Dan Steinberg is obviously in an existential crisis wondering how his life came down to kissing Gilbert Arenas' butt and adoring Casey Rabach's scrotum and is trying out for the loosely regulated world of food journalism.
If there is a journalistic endeavor that requires less in the way of qualifications than sports reporting it's food reporting, I mean come on we all don't love sports but we all eat and who doesn't have an opinion on food, in the scope of news food is to the front page as gonzo porn is to the Steven Spielberg. I wish Dan good luck and we'll see him down the road writing about topics as dynamic as cabbage and lentils.
His piece is on Redskins tailgating versus Ravens tailgating, who has the better spread and the better victuals. It is no great surprise to me that Ravens fans have the better of both, you don't need a shrink to figure out that when you are empty inside you fill up the outside to feel better. Bigger banners, larger spreads, more heavy cream in the hollandaise to compensate for the dreary march toward death that is life in Baltimore.
Lower real estate prices? Baltimore's got them. Manageable traffic? Baltimore rush hour is nothing like DC. Diverse and walkable urban neighborhoods? Check. A functioning needle exchange program? Put another in Balmer's column. Crappy commute to your lucrative Washington area job? Perfunctory sex with bitter partners, awkward conversations with estranged neighbors, the occasional drunken hit and run, when you put it together it truly seems like Baltimore has it all.
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OF COARSE Baltimore has a better spread! There is food that defines the city. Seafood, crabs, oh that city knows how to cook!
And despite the Ravens being a mere child of 12, Baltimore knows how to celebrate football. The Colts are a storied franchise and you can't say 'Art Donovan' in Fells Point without getting a hug or a punch in the mouth.
At the end of the day Baltimorons define themselves by who they are and they take pride in the limited world around them and all week on the dock or behind the counter or in the delivery vehicle they are remembering the good times and great food from last week, at least as much as they can remember, counting the hours until the next intermission in the mindless march to premature death. Just look at how hard these fans are not thinking about Monday.
Redskins fans, we define ourselves by what we do, and at our peril. Increasingly the big spreads are disappearing in favor of conspicuous consumption. Whether it's a 90000 dollar Hummer in burgundy & gold, the 65 dollar bottle of wine, an imported Burmese wok (truncheon not included) or a 5000 dollar deep fryer (all op. cit.) Redskins fans are letting the goods do the talking.
Between rotten traffic, constant Blackberry messages, the huge house, the great career, the adoration of our gorgeous and much younger opposite sex partner and managing complex relationships with nannies, gardeners and landscapers there simply is not as deep a hole to fill with time consuming activities like mastering the tailgate party. Just grab a bottle of Cristal and a tin of beluga on the way to the game then bail in the third quarter to get to the office in time to close the Fisher account and then home for tantric sex and Sunday Night Football, before you know it Monday is here and out we go to save the world for capitalism.
Look for yourself, these Redskins fans are reveling in the empty world of catered tailgates, prefabricated high ticket meals and that effete sense of entitlement that comes from making more money than everyone around you. There's no enjoyment in their eyes, just thoughts of the next dividend payout.
How we envy the world of the Ravens fan, when life was slower and so was everyone around us.
If there is a journalistic endeavor that requires less in the way of qualifications than sports reporting it's food reporting, I mean come on we all don't love sports but we all eat and who doesn't have an opinion on food, in the scope of news food is to the front page as gonzo porn is to the Steven Spielberg. I wish Dan good luck and we'll see him down the road writing about topics as dynamic as cabbage and lentils.
His piece is on Redskins tailgating versus Ravens tailgating, who has the better spread and the better victuals. It is no great surprise to me that Ravens fans have the better of both, you don't need a shrink to figure out that when you are empty inside you fill up the outside to feel better. Bigger banners, larger spreads, more heavy cream in the hollandaise to compensate for the dreary march toward death that is life in Baltimore.
Lower real estate prices? Baltimore's got them. Manageable traffic? Baltimore rush hour is nothing like DC. Diverse and walkable urban neighborhoods? Check. A functioning needle exchange program? Put another in Balmer's column. Crappy commute to your lucrative Washington area job? Perfunctory sex with bitter partners, awkward conversations with estranged neighbors, the occasional drunken hit and run, when you put it together it truly seems like Baltimore has it all.
=====
OF COARSE Baltimore has a better spread! There is food that defines the city. Seafood, crabs, oh that city knows how to cook!
And despite the Ravens being a mere child of 12, Baltimore knows how to celebrate football. The Colts are a storied franchise and you can't say 'Art Donovan' in Fells Point without getting a hug or a punch in the mouth.
At the end of the day Baltimorons define themselves by who they are and they take pride in the limited world around them and all week on the dock or behind the counter or in the delivery vehicle they are remembering the good times and great food from last week, at least as much as they can remember, counting the hours until the next intermission in the mindless march to premature death. Just look at how hard these fans are not thinking about Monday.
Redskins fans, we define ourselves by what we do, and at our peril. Increasingly the big spreads are disappearing in favor of conspicuous consumption. Whether it's a 90000 dollar Hummer in burgundy & gold, the 65 dollar bottle of wine, an imported Burmese wok (truncheon not included) or a 5000 dollar deep fryer (all op. cit.) Redskins fans are letting the goods do the talking.
Between rotten traffic, constant Blackberry messages, the huge house, the great career, the adoration of our gorgeous and much younger opposite sex partner and managing complex relationships with nannies, gardeners and landscapers there simply is not as deep a hole to fill with time consuming activities like mastering the tailgate party. Just grab a bottle of Cristal and a tin of beluga on the way to the game then bail in the third quarter to get to the office in time to close the Fisher account and then home for tantric sex and Sunday Night Football, before you know it Monday is here and out we go to save the world for capitalism.
Look for yourself, these Redskins fans are reveling in the empty world of catered tailgates, prefabricated high ticket meals and that effete sense of entitlement that comes from making more money than everyone around you. There's no enjoyment in their eyes, just thoughts of the next dividend payout.
How we envy the world of the Ravens fan, when life was slower and so was everyone around us.
