This is a pretty funny little deal, on several levels. At one level it’s obviously sending up the suburbanites lifestyle, but it also has a subtext gently teasing New Yorkers about how they see the rest of the country, like the old “View of the World from 9th Avenue” magazine cover. Probably depends on the audience, I reckon.
My favorite is probably the fake address. 24th street cuts across Manhattan, at roughly 900 feet per long block, each of which corresponds to a building number 100 higher than the previous block. Extending it out to the fake address, you end up about 90-100 miles away, in the suburbs of Scranton, Pennsylvania, the far hinterlands where people practice weird religions, play with “Toy Men,” and pursue their hobby of “Car Engines” with their shoe-collecting wives who are either teen mothers, being cutely faux-29 forever, or probably both. They live in huge houses on isolated plots of land like an eighth of an acre or more, and they never talk to each other. It’s all really pretty much the same as Michigan or Minnesota or Montana, I think.
One of my grandparents used to do that. He was 41 for several decades, and just turned 42 that last year because he said he was starting to feel his age
The wife is 14 years younger than the husband and had the kid at 17…
That, or she’s “29” for the 8th or 9th time. Which makes it funnier because obviously she didn’t think of the implications of her fake age.
This is a pretty funny little deal, on several levels. At one level it’s obviously sending up the suburbanites lifestyle, but it also has a subtext gently teasing New Yorkers about how they see the rest of the country, like the old “View of the World from 9th Avenue” magazine cover. Probably depends on the audience, I reckon.
My favorite is probably the fake address. 24th street cuts across Manhattan, at roughly 900 feet per long block, each of which corresponds to a building number 100 higher than the previous block. Extending it out to the fake address, you end up about 90-100 miles away, in the suburbs of Scranton, Pennsylvania, the far hinterlands where people practice weird religions, play with “Toy Men,” and pursue their hobby of “Car Engines” with their shoe-collecting wives who are either teen mothers, being cutely faux-29 forever, or probably both. They live in huge houses on isolated plots of land like an eighth of an acre or more, and they never talk to each other. It’s all really pretty much the same as Michigan or Minnesota or Montana, I think.
Okay but you didn’t have to do Scranton dirty like that.
It’s the Electric City man, show some respect.
Because of the electricity
I honestly haven’t heard that joke since The Nanny or maybe Sex in the City?
That’s roughly when I grew up. lol. My mom was “29” for about 5 years if I recall.
One of my grandparents used to do that. He was 41 for several decades, and just turned 42 that last year because he said he was starting to feel his age
That doesn’t help to narrow down the religion.
Right?!