Marc and I have certainly butted heads before. There was the time in summer of 2001 when we fought over Bloodsport vs. Kickboxer being Van Damme’s greater movie about the exact same character. And again, in 2003, blood was drawn over who England’s greatest prime minister was (Lord Palmerston!). There was even that time in 2006 when we, through a series of comic missteps, managed to undo the very fabric of space and time. That’ll make you a bit cranky in the morning.

Now, we’re facing a serious crisis. The Yankees are playing the Phillies in the World Series. Giants face the Eagles in Week 8. And, most importantly, we’re going head to head in fantasy football. I’m just waiting for us to hop in the ring of death a la Star Trek

As of writing this, Marc and I are barely on speaking terms. I’ve threatened to create a doomsday-like device disguised as a cheesesteak. Marc responded by threatening to “club me and eat my bones” as something of an ogre. Instead, we’ve decided to badmouth the other’s beloved city and let you the audience (the true victims here) decide:

Marc:

She’s Almost Famous

There are only two things to do in the Bronx: get mugged and watch a Yankees game. I don’t recommend either activity.

The Steinbrenners defy stereotpyes by being Jews who willingly spend money. How dare they? This country was built on stereotypes!

New Yorkers are proud of a gift from France. That’s downright un-American. If the Statue of Liberty was in Philly, they’d have sunk it or at least remodeled it to look like Rocky years ago.

Kate Hudson is just as contaminated as the refuse-riddled river she shares a surname with. If the team ever wants to become the Skankies, she’s the perfect mascot.

Here’s how hostile New Yorkers are: if one gives you the middle finger, you’ve just made a new friend. If they are female, congratulations, you landed a date!

A box for a large pizza is about the same size as a Manhattan apartment, but costs $2,175 less per month (more if you want luxuries such as a bathroom or window).

New Yorkers aren’t the only people who take better care of their dogs than their children (see: L.A.), but they are the only crowd whose kids so closely resemble their dogs.

I’m not saying the cockroaches in NYC are big, but they use public transportation to get around.

I’m not saying the cockroaches in NYC are everywhere, but my landlord was one. Ok, she was an old Greek lady, but they never die, either.

New York is the type of place where Donald Trump is respected. Even Atlantic City doesn’t stoop that low.

New Yorkers are wary of walking down streets that don’t reek of urine.

If New Yorkers are so cultured, why are the plays on Broadway always decades-old Disney movies?

They call it Fire Island because the STD you’ll inevitably contract while visiting will make your genitals burn.

New Jersey may be New York’s dumpster, but Long Island is clearly the burning tire yard.

Queens serves as Rikers Island’s prison yard.

If your cab driver doesn’t nearly get into three accidents during your ride, you’re not obligated to tip.

In Brooklyn, you are considered sophisticated if you put anchovies on your pizza.

In Williamsburg, doing something for unironic reasons is a punishable offense (the guilty party is usually forced to wear roomy jeans and a t-shirt without an 80s reference on it).

Will:

Philadelphia is often referred to as “The City of Brotherly Love” and “The City That Loves You Back”, which is a bastardization of their founding nickname “We’re all a bunch of filthy whores”.

The Muppets in their feature length film “The Muppets Take Manhattan” were originally going to take Philadelphia. When appearing on location, though, the locals told Kermit that “they don’t care for your kind ’round here”.

The overwhelming stench that hangs over New Jersey actually originated from Philadelphia, but not even that stink could stand to be around downtown Philly. That one’s a double burn.

Incidentally, the toxic dumps are actually the slack-jawed yokels on the outskirts emptying their spitoons.

Jimmy Rollins, shortstop for the Phillies, once starred in the MC Hammer video “Addams Family Groove”. I have no physical evidence, but consequently Hammer quit the music biz and went broke. I don’t believe in coincidence and, frankly, I consider him a traitor to America.

Jon Bon Jovi claims affiliation with the city. While I would consider that misfortune enough, he also brought the arena football team Philadelphia Soul to the city just so the burg could finally dispute claims they’re nothing but a bunch of “soulless inhuman monsters”. As Dick Clark, native son of Philly, has yet to die (or even age), the monster part is still up for debate.

That movie with Tom Hanks, “Philadelphia”? That really happened. In every law firm in the city. Twice. Even with straight dudes. Don’t even get me started on “Trading Places”. They had a brokerage firm run by “Dukes”!

Residents of Philly originally inspired the Nazi’s to start their book burnings, hoping they’d eventually make their way to all copies of the 1943 classic “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn”.

Once described as “the very center of America’s asshole”, assholes in response furiously protested against this description of the city as it “gives a bad name to assholes nationwide”.

Will Smith was, and I quote “West Philadelphia, born and raised”. How did his hometown respond? While he was “chilling out maxing, relaxing all cool while shooting some bball outside of [his] school”, they rough him up and force him out of town. Real classy, Philly.

Finally, in the end, we decided that our hate could not be diminished, but only redirected. We agreed to disagree and locked Joe Buck in a pitching cage for a few hours. I’m pretty sure that’s common ground for all baseball fans.

Maturity As Measured by Method of Beer Consumption

A Concentrated Awesome time line that we were too trashed to turn into a traditional time line

Drink out of whatever container is available or has has been dared

Age 15-17

Drink from keg upside down

Age 18

Drink from keg standing on feet (usually due to being too fat or uncoordinated to stand on head)

Age 18

Beer: The cure for what ales you.

Drink from funnel

Age 18-19

Drink from colorful plastic cup

Age 19-20

Drink from side of can

Age 20

Drink from mouth of can

Age 21

Drink from a 40 oz. bottle duct-taped to hand

Age 21.5

Drink from 40 oz. bottle minus adhesives

Age 22

Drink from tacky mug of bar visited once while on vacation

Age 23

Drink from mug swiped from favorite local bar

Age 24

Drink from a normal-sized bottle

Age 25-30

Drink from breakable pilsner glass

Age 30-40

Drink from a beer stein (note: if you’re German, you’ve been drinking this way since age 2)

Age 40-75

Drink beer from sippy cup (don’t want to spill or get caught by nursing home attendants)

Age 75-end

Looks like we all dodged a big bullet today. And by “we” I mean some kid out in Colorado, and by “dodged a bullet” I mean “dodged falling 10,000 feet from a helium balloon built by his alien worshiping parents”. Thankfully, he was safe and sound hiding in his attic because…well we would all feel really really bad about one white boy we don’t know who died out of stupidity in the US. So much for Darwinism. Yes, I’m a monster.

More importantly, I can write a blog post guilt free since everyone’s alright. Let’s take note of the situation and prioritize our lives (and news cycle) for the next day or two on how we can resolve to prevent future balloon catastrophes.

Sorry Falcon, you’re several decades too late to make an album cover

• Convince Han Solo to circle the globe non stop. What better to save a boy name Falcon than the pilot of the Millenium Falcon? Humphrey Bogart is excused from duty, as the kid is from Colorado, not Malta, and therefore not a Maltese Falcon.
• Call out Lucky the Leprachaun on his bullshit. Hearts, Stars, Clovers, Horseshoes and Blue Moons, Pots of Gold and rainbows and…what else? That’s right, RED BALLOONS. You get off your hobbit ass and you fly your magic fucking rainbow up to save that kid next time, it’s your jurisdiction.
• Ban helium, and consequently balloons, from public use without proper licensing. In addition, create a branch of Homeland Security headed by Bozo the Clown, to be named Secretary of Balloon doggies.
• Also on the restricted list are the following songs movies: Kenny Loggins’ “Highway to the Danger Zone”, Sugar Ray’s “Fly” and Creed’s “Take Me Higher”. Not that we’re afraid they’ll cause copycat cases, I just think they’re terrible.
• Islam, your main man flew around on a flying horse. Get back in everyone’s good graces and make something happen. Greeks? You’ve got Pegasus. I’m looking in your direction too. Fuck you unicorns, you’re useless.
• As the natural enemy of the Balloon Boy, create an army of Moops. Wait, no, that’s how you take down a bubble boy in Trivial Pursuit.
• As a precaution, the 2009 Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade has been canceled. And you thought you were going to get beat up just for having the name “Falcon”…
• Since the folks have already been on one TV show, “Wife Swap”, maybe we can get them in another series, “Keep an eye on your fucking 6 year old kid, Jackasses”. Admittedly, the title could use some work, but it’s hosted by Ryan Seacrest, so that’s promising.
• We could start our own game, where people throw ducks at balloons and nothing’s the way it seems. That really only comes in handy for making obscure Simpsons quotes.
• Require everyone in the US to read “Diary of Anne Frank”. The kid was in an attic the whole time. It’s not a new hiding spot, people. At the very least, they can watch a few episodes of Arrested Development.
• Indiana Jones will serve as Air Marshall for all future Ballooning expeditions. “No ticket” indeed.

Despite the natural tendency of the blogger, not all of my hobbies require me to be a recluse from the world. Yes, my winning personality does often ward off human contact like a nice case of leprosy, but I do try to venture out into the streets of NYC every now and then. Sometimes I even manage to smile at people without imagining them being crushed by various space debris falling from the sky!

More often than not, I spend a lot of my time jogging around the streets of NYC, most notably Central Park. You may ask “why the hell would a grown man spend his free time running around in circles, getting sweaty and exhausting himself like that?” To that I say, “Shut up, ugly”.

Even still, I’ve decided to run a half marathon this Saturday. That means I get to run for a really long time, destroying my body in the process, in front of people who apparently like to stand by the sides of roads yelling for no apparent reason, and it only costs me $40 for something I could do any other day of the year for free. What a deal!

Of course, for those that are looking for more of a reason to strain their bodies to the point of self-pooping, there are always charities set up for most races, e.g. Race for the cure, AIDS walks, etc. Some marathons, however, seems to be associated with less than stellar themes, notably:

It’s all fun and games ’til you’re bleeding from your nipples

The 2009 Rot Trot
Essentially everyone just runs their asses off while being chased by zombies. When they say you’re racing to save lives, what they mean is your own. On the plus side, chainsaws and baseball bats are encouraged. Last one alive wins.

The Brett Favre Invitational
This is a fun one, mostly because you’re not even sure who’s going to show up that day, as runners waffle back and forth whether they want to come out. It ends in disappointment every time after the realization you’re too old and had to listen to Joe Buck for 3 hours.

The “Hulkmania runs wild on you” Challenge
The problem with running is it needs to be more of a contact sport. At the finish line, entrants are led into a no holds barred cage match against each other. You may have run a 5 minute mile race, but let’s see how your skinny 120lb ass takes a chair to the face. Steroids are, in fact, allowed in this one. Winner gets a really sweet ass championship belt to wear.

Fleet Feet Tweet Meet
A race to support the cause that we all collectively agree stop making the twats/twits jokes on twitter. It was funny 3 years ago, it’s done. Fuck you Jay Leno for rehashing it. Also, any portmanteau’s that start with “tw”, as in “tweeps” for twitter peeps or “twexting” for tweeting via text, are punishable with a punch to the taint. Excuse me, twaint.

The Drunken Stepfather Classic
Participants are chased around the course by a surly overweight man in a wifebeater calling them failures and swinging whiskey bottles at their heads. Everyone crosses the finish line sobbing. The following weekend’s events include the “Therapy Session” Gallop and the “I was never good enough for you” Sprint.

Skeet Skeet Grand Prix
It ends at a strip club. Enough said.

“White People in Harlem” Fun Run
Starts at 3am, where a bunch of scared white dudes try to make it back to their midtown apartments overlooking the park. Sponsored by Wonder Bread, Hellman’s mayonnaise, and NBC promoting the complete “Friends” series now on dvd.

ING’s “I want my fucking money back you bastards!” Marathon
Was your retirement fund cleared out this year? Rebranding their fall classic in NYC, ING now has participants chase down executives from several leading banks and lending firms to try to reclaim their lost savings. Of course, being a bunch of blood sucking vampires, this race has been moved to nighttime. Everyone loses.