Update time：2021-07-31 22:43Tag: World End Diner
COVID-19 seems to finally be winding down. Millions of Philadelphians are finally getting back to doing what they love, finding a sense of normalcy after more than a year of chaos and anxiety.
Congratulations! What are you going to do with your reclaimed freedom? If the first thing that came to mind is spending $55 on a ticket for the privilege of getting to eat outside in August on 125 degree asphalt with hundreds of other people, then boy oh boy do I have some good news for you.
Diner en Blanc is BACK, baby! Two years ago I shed light on the most idiotic social event this city has ever seen. Not even a global pandemic that killed millions could be the death knell Diner en Blanc deserved. Now I know how Dr. Loomis felt after putting five bullets in Michael Myers at the end of “Halloween,” only for Myers to disappear and terrorize the franchise for another 10 sequels.
— CogginToboggan (@CogginToboggan) June 21, 2021
We waded through more than a year of extended personal sacrifice and toil only to come out on the other side with an even greater desire to pay for the pleasure of wearing white clothes and eating our own food on a blacktop parking lot next to a CVS. COVID be damned, we have Instagram photos to post and by God we’re going to post them.
Pretentious isn’t the even correct word anymore. Nothing can describe the levels of idiocy one must attain to look at this and say, “Golly gee, that looks like a swell time. Finally, a social setting where my Doge coin anecdote will truly be appreciated.”
A quick reminder for the uninitiated. Diner en Blanc is a “high class” social event invented by the French in 1988 as a way to somehow make picnicking an even less enjoyable prospect. It spread through the world, quickly becoming popular with the type of neighbors in your life that make you quietly say “Look at these fucking idiots” to your spouse on a weekly basis. If you don’t know any of those neighbors? Well then guess what.. you are those neighbors. Sorry.
$55 a ticket affords you the opportunity to lug a lawn chair and $190 Williams and Sonoma fête champêtre tote to some godforsaken part of Philadelphia to eat dinner with people you don’t know. You bring your own food, your own chairs, and your own booze to a back alley in Old City for the WHIMSICAL experience of eating warm and fetid charcuterie you bought solely from the olive bar at Wegmans. The only thing you don’t need to bring is your dignity.
The only thing for free at Diner en Blanc is swamp ass, and you’ll be getting it in spades. By the time the night is over your white Kohl’s chinos will look like printing paper rubbed with cooking oil.
And just a gentle reminder that this doesn’t benefit anything. No charity, no foundation, no cause. All of the ticket sales go to… what exactly? To funding the cult the organizers try to indoctrinate you into after the night is over? Did you have a GOOD TIME, brother? Do you want those good times to never end? Join us, don the white clothes of purity for the rest of time and drink of the cup of life until the leader calls us all home.
But I’m a good sport, I really am. I’m a NICE GUY and I have the perfect place for this year’s Diner en Blanc. Have it at the SS United States, the old abandoned ship across the street from the IKEA. Absolute top-notch event. Great for pictures, perfect views of the Delaware, and when nobody on board is paying attention the sane residents of Philadelphia can cut the boat free from the dock and we can be rid of these bougie wretches for the rest of our lives.
Imagine, a cavalcade of hipsters with handlebar mustaches riding their old-timey bikes with the big front wheels around the deck as straws are drawn to see which unfortunate thrift store clerk will be eaten first as the supply of IPAs and cold brew coffee dwindle.
One can only hope.
It’s all pointless. But again, and I’m just throwing this out there like I did two years ago, the solution to all of this is Diner en Heights at my house. $10 gets you a red solo cup with keg access and at least two slices of pizza from Ralphs on Station Avenue. Judging from the popularity of the idea last time, we’ll move it out from the backyard to the street. Don’t worry about the neighbors, they’ll be as piss drunk as the rest of the us.
See everyone there. If you wear white you will not be admitted.
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