In a brief snippet discussing the Manhattanite ‘empty nest’ syndrome in “The Talk of the Town” section of the December 6th issue of The New Yorker, Rebecca Mead wrote:

This was a move that, since the children already had full-service accommodations in an exclusive, expensive neighborhood, did not seem particularly imminent, crummy apartment shares in Astoria being for those unfortunate would-be New Yorkers whose parental nest is somewhere in the hinterlands, like Baltimore, or Darien.

Surprisingly, I actually caught this. As a Baltimorean, obviously my usual periodical reading typically involves magazines whose titles reference Professional Wrestling, Monster Trucks and various plays on the word Gash. Actually, I probably would have completely have passed over The New Yorker were it not for the recent introduction of bright colors to it’s marketing (Those wacky pandering ‘middlebrow’ literary magazines. Will they stop at nothing in their pursuit of dollars from the semiliterate non-New Yorker rabble).

For those who aren’t as in the know as Miss Becky, Darien is a miniscule township west of Stamford, Connictut. A poor man’s Greenwich. The slight for both communities is painfully obvious. In the case of Darien, it is being referred to as an exurb so miniscule and trivial, that the people have no right to consider themselves a member of the tri-state community. In the case of Baltimore (which is obviously NOT part of the New York metropolitan area) we are being considered national city so miniscule and trivial, that we have no right to consider ourselves a metropolitan community, and hence beneath the contempt of the New York elite.

Well, Miss Becky, I have a few words to say to you. I am allowed to make Baltimore jokes. Other Baltimoreans are allowed to make Baltimore jokes. But, when someone who has no ties to this area start knocking us down it sounds roughly similar to a blue blood prep school WASP trying to make a jewish joke. You may get away with it, but it will expose you for the snotty elitist *BLEEP* that you obviously are.

Oh, but wait, let’s look at your profile. Why, you aren’t even a New Yorker. You’re British. Oxford educated, even. My, my, that is impressive. So, nine chances out of ten, you are in fact a blue blood ‘public school’ WASP looking down your limey nose at the inferior “hinterlands” Yanks who are too insignificant to live in Manhattan. THAT IS quite surprising.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must attend my opposable thumb class. And after that, my neighbors and I are getting together to feed on one another’s body lice, so I’ll have to cut this little semiliterate tirade short.

Toodles, and go fuck yourself.

(If I use the term “middlebrow” ever again, someone please hunt me down and kill me.)