This New York Times review by Pete Wells that a dozen people are sharing in your feed right now about Guy Fieri’s new Times Square restaurant is the Guy Fieri restaurant of reviews. It’s forced, ham-fisted, and obvious, I don’t want to finish anything it’s serving me, and I have no idea why it’s getting so much attention. Perhaps, like the Times Square locale of the restaurant in question, the only reason anyone is reading it is because they can find it on some well-trafficked real estate.
Did panic grip your soul as you stared into the whirling hypno wheel of the menu, where adjectives and nouns spin in a crazy vortex? When you saw the burger described as “Guy’s Pat LaFrieda custom blend, all-natural Creekstone Farm Black Angus beef patty, LTOP (lettuce, tomato, onion + pickle), SMC (super-melty-cheese) and a slathering of Donkey Sauce on garlic-buttered brioche,” did your mind touch the void for a minute?…
I’ve no illusions about this place being anything other than a depressing purgatory of cheese—both kinds—but a piece full of moderately humorous rhetorical question after moderately humorous rhetorical question hardly seems worth the hullabaloo. Couldn’t they have just used an impact font on a picture of Guy Fieri spiking a volleyball of ranch dressing at some bikini babes in a dune buggy that said SHITTY RESTAURANT IS SHITTY and saved some time?
Is the entire restaurant a very expensive piece of conceptual art? Is the shapeless, structureless baked alaska that droops and slumps and collapses while you eat it, or don’t eat it, supposed to be a representation in sugar and eggs of the experience of going insane?
Is this entire review a very expensive piece of conceptual art? Are the shapeless zingers that droop and slump and collapse while I read them, or don’t read them, supposed to be a representation in snark of the experience of reading the type of review I’d expect to find on an entry level blog by someone “with a passion for food” and not the New York Fucking Times?
I have a few questions for the paper myself. When can I look forward to your next hilarious bit on how Nickelback is rather uncool as far as rock and roll bands go, because that’s essentially what you’ve done here.
It’s probably no coincidence that most of the people I’ve seen sharing this article on social media are the type who’ll write, without irony, open letters to inanimate objects and vague concepts all the time. This fits nicely into that humor model.
Still, soulless corporate sink holes like this deserve to be ruined and driven into the night by angry villagers, so for that I applaud Mr Wells. I just kind of wish he hadn’t brought me a cup of hot water and called it Champagne.