So Tommy Ramone — the last of the founding Ramones if I'm not mistaken — has shuffled off this mortal coil and the best you assholes can do is sit around ordering sensible mules from Zappos? Disgraceful.
Today, in what I assure you is not just a vague coincidence, I will be doing the fucking right and decent thing and heading out to The Rock-Rockaways to pay my final respects to some now-non-living legends of what is beyond arguably the greatest city on the face of this goddamned planet: New York.
After dumping all or part or none of a 40-ouncer of malt liquor into the Atlantic for the brothers who can now officially not be here, I will with a heavy heart be enjoying some of the many admitted charms of the Rockaways, though again this is all incidental to the primary purpose of the trip, which is to be a better and more respectful person than basically all of you guys combined. (Excepting Youguise, obvs.). For a full rundown of the glory that is Queens's Hipster Hamptons, please see, e.g.:
So yeah, laze about, shoe-shoppers, secure in the knowledge at at least one of us is capable of the sacrifices necessary to truly be a noble and worthy human bean. Today I take one for this miserable team.