Step 2. Show the world that you think a basement craphole with a stained coin-op pool table with warped cues and tables that look like they earned a D in woodshop is a class joint because it has paper towels in the john. Next, you can don your $5 thrift store suit and head to Red Lobster for some fine dinin'. You graduate to Trailertard McWhitetrash.
Service trois pièces |
Step 4. Ditto for leeks. If you can't tell a caramelized onion from a Carmelite nun, you'll believe that leeks are Fancy 'n Exotic. To find them you have to put on a pith helmet and travel to the magical land of Superfresh. They're next to the onions...'cuz they're, y'know, like, onions. You should also try the Sweetened Caramelized Sparking Water. (Coke.) Proceed to ---> Tardgoober McVegmoron.
Step 5. Call ordinary condiments by the hipster-douche term "dipping sauces." Deny the existence of "ketchup" especially if it's written right on the menu. Act like the America's Choice mayonnaise with garlic stirred in and renamed "aioli" for the hipster douchebags was shat out by Gordon Ramsay's pet unicorn . Everyone but you knows that these "dipping sauces" are slightly lower on the haute cuisine scale than Arby's Horsey Sauce.---> Lowbrow McOaftard.
Chauve à col roulé, pomme frites avec immersion de sauce |
Step 7. Shriek with indignation that someone called the shithole's neighborhood a "ghetto," when no one actually said it. Making stuff up after accusing people of making stuff up is truly hilarious. Make up their ages, too. And where they're from, and how long they've lived there, since you're on a roll. You graduate to ----> Mendouchious Bumblefucktard
Typical Northeastern Philadelphian |
Step 8. Denounce Yelpers' opinions as invalid because they're not from the neighborhood, but fail to mention you're not from there, either. This fartbubble of illogic means that no review of Disneyland is valid because the reviewers don't live there. This shines the spotlight on the burning shame you carry at being from the blue-collar ArchieBunkerville which is the Northeast, Mr. Hicktard von Wannabe.
Your boy is different, Mrs. Gump |
Step 11. Show bafflement at the term "sports bar" as well, despite your quiz getting cancelled repeatedly in favor of sporting events, in a bar which describes itself as a sports bar. Then...
Seriously....wall-sized. With sports on it. |
Step 10. A raft of complaints without linking to anything but Yelpsucks is a pitiful display of confirmation bias. Since Yelpsucks is an ad site for an "online reputation manager" who charges $1,500 for her services, she needs Yelp to continue to suck to stay in business. (Uncle Blizzy Quick Tip: You can do what she does yourself, for free.)
Since you just got an Internet, you don't know yet that anyone with a complaint can make a complaint site. There are thousands.
Without links, you're just another blowhard doucheblogger. Of course, you can't link to delusions that sifted into your addlebrain through holes in your tin-foil hat. Ranking: Hotwindickus von Blognozzle.
Step 12: Accuse Yelp of "trashing" the reputation of the bar, despite its sturdy 3 1/2 star rating. 80% of the reviews are three stars and up. Since the owners of the self-described sports/hipster/dive bar link to their Yelp reviews from their Facebook page, they don't seem to have any problem with it.
Bonus points: Insert one grain of truth in your flatuous rant: Your quiz is not particularly noteworthy. Congratulations! You have achieved intellect equivalent to:
An Ivy League University Graduate
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