I AM A SICK MAN.... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult a doctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. My liver is bad, well -- let it get worse!
Some days ago I had the distinct misfortune of spending my afternoon repast attempting to nourish myself in a rather scurrilous establishment called Underground Pizza. Forgive me for my indiscretion, gentlemen, but a pox upon the fools who created this hellish place and a pox upon their ancestors.
Housed in a seemingly nondescript and innoffensive building on a seemingly nondescript and inoffensive block, this building and this block are both quite repugnant in fact, by virtue of their sheer banality. And the banality hides an odious truth: the food from this horrendously average establishment quite likely provides calories and energy to the most hideous of people, those who profiteer from misery and suffering: traders and brokers.
And surely their bodies have deteriorated in conjunction with their morals if this is the food upon which they eat. To call this food, why to call this slop "food" would be to call these parasitic ghouls "men"! As an exercise, walk to your rubbish heap, find a sullied sponge amongst the refuse, perhaps one with which you cleaned your toilet, and bite into it--this roughly approximates the experience of eating a slice at so-called Underground Pizza. As my close confidante Jennifer Shagawat said, "this place gives the underground a bad name."
Underground Pizza - $2.50
3 Hanover Sq
New York, NY 100014