A Petition to the Urban Dictionary, from The Honorable Birsha, Mayor of Gomorrah
To Whom It May Concern:
First, let me say I admire the work you’re doing. The Urban Dictionary is truly a new classic. Great set-up you’ve got there, everyone wants to share their personal perversion. And yep, sodomy, sodomize, sodomite, and a whole list of variations show up right on top, so to speak. But gomorrah-ing? Gomorrah-ize? All trolls. There’s nothing official. Nothing that reflects our rich history as a city worthy of a scouring cataclysm.
But I’m not here to yak about crowd-sourcing while the internet burns with sin (good job!). I’m here to draw your attention to a member of a proud tradition of partners. Partners who happen to be named second. A tradition of places that don’t toot their own horns, and sometimes end up overlooked.
Have you ever noticed the Tampa Bay Rays play in St. Petersburg? Or how Prairie Home Companion can be blamed on St. Paul? That Slovakia is also a very nice place? As Sir Mix-a-Lot says, you need the L.A. face with the Oakland booty.
We’re not Frank Stallone, or Andrew Ridgeley, or the other Baldwins. We’re more like Mary-Kate and Ashley. We’re Ashley. It’s OK to always come second, we’re cool with that-it makes a good rhythm when you say it in Aramaic, Sodom and Gomorrah-but we’ve got our own interests too.
There’s room for two Gyllenhaals, I’m saying.
Sure, we didn’t have a Spearmint Rhino or a Banana Bar, but Gomorrah had its own unique attractions and a thriving farm-to-table movement. If you needed a cupcake bakery, or a craft brewery, it was a hop-skip-and-a-jump to Sodom with convenient donkey service. But there was an unpretentiousness to Gomorrah. An authenticity. For bright lights big fornication, sure, Sodomites could set you up! But for a friendly missionary poke at a price a working man could afford-well, it starts with Gee! and ends with Aaaaaahhhhh.
We didn’t cater to sploshing, or furries, or anything needing a hoist or special furniture, but there was no better place to take a fallen woman on a picnic before taking her behind a convenient sty. In Gomorrah you could rent a harlot you’d imagine meeting in a tavern after work and finding out her real name. Or pick up an adulteress you could hold a conversation with before stoning her. Duck down an alley with a bright young wanton you’d be embarrassed to-I’ll say it-sodomize.
Look, it’s Sodom and Gomorrah. God wiped us both out at the same time, give-or-take seven seconds of white-hot inferno and molten stone. The cities that perish in a fiery apocalypse together, cherish enduring as vulgar epithets together.
It’s time to put Gomorrah in her rightful place amid the debauchery of mankind. For those occasions after Taco Friday when sodomy is just too risky, or you haven’t had a shower yet, or it’s only the second date and her roommate’s still up watching a particularly disturbing episode of Game of Thrones, just do it the old-fashioned way. Tab A into Slot B. It’s time for Gomorrahmy.
___________________________________________________
My husband and I spent three hours building an IKEA sofa tonight. If only it were as simple as Tab A into Slot B...
.
First, let me say I admire the work you’re doing. The Urban Dictionary is truly a new classic. Great set-up you’ve got there, everyone wants to share their personal perversion. And yep, sodomy, sodomize, sodomite, and a whole list of variations show up right on top, so to speak. But gomorrah-ing? Gomorrah-ize? All trolls. There’s nothing official. Nothing that reflects our rich history as a city worthy of a scouring cataclysm.
But I’m not here to yak about crowd-sourcing while the internet burns with sin (good job!). I’m here to draw your attention to a member of a proud tradition of partners. Partners who happen to be named second. A tradition of places that don’t toot their own horns, and sometimes end up overlooked.
Have you ever noticed the Tampa Bay Rays play in St. Petersburg? Or how Prairie Home Companion can be blamed on St. Paul? That Slovakia is also a very nice place? As Sir Mix-a-Lot says, you need the L.A. face with the Oakland booty.
We’re not Frank Stallone, or Andrew Ridgeley, or the other Baldwins. We’re more like Mary-Kate and Ashley. We’re Ashley. It’s OK to always come second, we’re cool with that-it makes a good rhythm when you say it in Aramaic, Sodom and Gomorrah-but we’ve got our own interests too.
There’s room for two Gyllenhaals, I’m saying.
Sure, we didn’t have a Spearmint Rhino or a Banana Bar, but Gomorrah had its own unique attractions and a thriving farm-to-table movement. If you needed a cupcake bakery, or a craft brewery, it was a hop-skip-and-a-jump to Sodom with convenient donkey service. But there was an unpretentiousness to Gomorrah. An authenticity. For bright lights big fornication, sure, Sodomites could set you up! But for a friendly missionary poke at a price a working man could afford-well, it starts with Gee! and ends with Aaaaaahhhhh.
We didn’t cater to sploshing, or furries, or anything needing a hoist or special furniture, but there was no better place to take a fallen woman on a picnic before taking her behind a convenient sty. In Gomorrah you could rent a harlot you’d imagine meeting in a tavern after work and finding out her real name. Or pick up an adulteress you could hold a conversation with before stoning her. Duck down an alley with a bright young wanton you’d be embarrassed to-I’ll say it-sodomize.
Look, it’s Sodom and Gomorrah. God wiped us both out at the same time, give-or-take seven seconds of white-hot inferno and molten stone. The cities that perish in a fiery apocalypse together, cherish enduring as vulgar epithets together.
It’s time to put Gomorrah in her rightful place amid the debauchery of mankind. For those occasions after Taco Friday when sodomy is just too risky, or you haven’t had a shower yet, or it’s only the second date and her roommate’s still up watching a particularly disturbing episode of Game of Thrones, just do it the old-fashioned way. Tab A into Slot B. It’s time for Gomorrahmy.
___________________________________________________
My husband and I spent three hours building an IKEA sofa tonight. If only it were as simple as Tab A into Slot B...
.