Thursday, April 13, 2006

Dirtbag, Party of One

Man. I was gonna let this one float through the transom untouched, honestly I was, but it's generated such heavy response over at the Times's Web site that I'd be remiss not to make fun of it.

Frank Bruni, the royal taster for the Old Gray Lady and author of books he'd rather you forget, takes up the pressing issue of unpressed shirts and baseball caps on his restaurant blog. The comments are a hoot! In a sociological twist, it appears the self-righteous jerks aren't the foodie snobs sneering at patrons not properly attired but rather those customers who refuse to yield to any dress recommendation/"code," no matter the restaurant or occasion.

This calls for a bit o' the old Canute-like wisdom from your humble blogger. Here's the deal: you can dress however you please at whatever eatery you choose, but show up to Per Se in a wife-beater and Hammer pants and I get to fart in your dinner. Sound fair? There's no rub like reciprocity, I'll tell ya.

1 comment:

Daingerous said...

This is such a rad post, Daingerous. Also, you are handsome.