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Cleveland Rocks
Don't believe anything you hear. Cleveland is a horrible, horrible, place. It's hurting for prestige so much that it'll claim anyone who ever set foot there as it's own. This includes
Drew Carey and famous serial killers. Where else would anyone even think about making a musical about the torso murders?
And what kind of place brags about Drew Carey? Drew Carey. We brag about DREW CAREY.
Another big deal is the Indians and their six thousand (or whatever it is) consecutive sellouts. Some might try to put a positive spin on the great esteem in which we hold ethnic
stereotypes, but even that comes through as pretty lame. Because the only reason the games sell out is because there isn't anything else to do. On the one hand, you can drink yourself
into a stupor. On the other, you can go can to an Indian's game. Or do both.
This brings us to Cleveland's "river side cafés," as one brochure calls them. A cynic might say an establishment that doesn't let anyone under the age of twenty one/doesn't
bribe the bouncer is more aptly termed a bar, but then ... Geez... coming up with a counter-argument to that is just more trouble that it's worth.
The best part about these cafés is the location, though. It's great to ensure that all drunk people are congregated next to a body of water. Because as we all know, water and
drunks mix REAL well.
The best part is this, though.
The bars have docks.
Docks.
Sure, you can pull up in a boat. But just how are you going to pull out without, say, ramming a bridge?
All of this was made possible through industry, which decided it was high time to flee. (With the exception, of course, of LTV Steel, which, ever the individual, went bankrupt.)
Thus, we Clevelanders can now boast of having large concentrations of booze, toxic waste, and (at times flaming) water all in the same place.
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is our proudest possession, however. Although no one goes -- except hapless high schoolers bused in to hear lectures about "Rosa parks and the
Selma bus boycott," or how "Vietnam killed more Americans than all other American wars combined" -- it's a matter of great pride. Indeed, we're all very proud of Cleveland's
contributions to the field of Rock and Roll, even if no one can remember any off hand. Even though the inductees insist the ceremonies be held in New York. Even if the glass pyramid
leaks and no one can figure out why, and wastebaskets are scattered throughout the museum to catch the falling water.
Curse you, Moses Cleaveland. You can't even name a city after yourself right. What the hell were you thinking when you founded one?
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