Can't We All Just Get Along?

There's been a hate parade going on between our two boroughs for some time now. Thanks for showing us the big picture, brandspankin!

Even Staten Island is trying to weigh in:

The pissing contest between Brooklyn and Manhattan is so 2003. Where it’s really at is the forgotten borough to the South…west, rubbing up on the Jersey Coastline. Seemingly spawned by Strong Eye-land, Crooklyn and Dirty Jersey Shore rejects, Staten Island is actually an oasis in the bullshit of city living.

No longer content to be the place everyone drives through on their way to somewhere else, SI’s put forth some strong initiatives to attract tourism. Fresh Kills will be to NYC in this century what Central Park was in the last. You’re going to be able to hike, kayak, cross-country ski, fish, and bird-watch in what was once the home of the most serious health threat since The Plague. SI’s also called home to the infamous and Current New York Metropolitan Area Minor League Leaders: The Staten Island Yankees who repeatedly make the Mets’ Brooklyn Cyclones their bitch in highly anticipated Ferry Series match-ups. And now NASCARs coming, too!

Brooklyn may get all the hype for its food, but Denino’s pizza joint makes Grimaldi’s look like Dominos. Junior’s and Peter Lugers? They’re just low budget versions of Tratoria Romano and Da Noi. And ladies, you’ve heard the rumors about the malls. Well, get those Amex’s ready, because the they’re all true. Just remember to highlight the hair, endlessly chomp on the gum and be sure to pay some serious salon attention to the nails before you come on over. And lads – be sure to get your Guido persona firmly in place, because it’s Game Time. Bonus points if you’re cruising Todt Hill in a tinted and pimped out Hummer stalking the rumored to be ex-home of Mookie Wilson.

But you don’t drive you say? No problem, we have plenty of diesel belching buses and the MTA’s smartly outfitted us with a single local line that runs the full length of the eastern side of our fine island. I’m sure you’ll be impressed with the scenic view as you put-put your way in the cast-off cars donated from the real fleet the MTA houses back on the mainland, to our infamous (and FREE!) Ferry Service. Not to worry, all the ferry captains are now given breathalyzers before embarking on the luxurious thirty-minute trips to and from downtown Manhattan. Be sure to elbow your way into a spot on the western rail to catch a glimpse of that oxidizing penny on a pedestal. Considering they just shut down access to her crown permanently, the view from the ferry’s about as good as it gets.

The Bronx can keep their Bombers. You’re so far the fuck up north I’d need an airplane to visit anyway. Queens, please! I’d give the fans something to really cheer about by sticking that t-shirt shooter up Mr. Met’s ass, provided ConEd could keep the juice flowing in your antiquated corner of the world. Manhattan, you’re just a floating turd in the bowl of life. And Brooklyn…dear, sweet deluded Brooklyn. They don’t call you “Broken Land” for nothing. You’ve lost your soul by selling out. Your moment in the sun is over. You’re cooling off like the sweat on a dead man’s balls. It’s all about the Island of Staten.