by Steve Corbett – Greetings from Scranton
Worried that conquest, war, famine and death frame our species’ current hell on earth?
Fear not.
Come to Biden Street.
City officials here in President Joe Biden’s Pennsylvania birthplace recently approved a resolution to rename good old-fashioned Spruce Street as Biden Street, rechristening a traditional byway as a much more posh and prestigious address.
Scranton City Council President Bill Gaughan in January threw the parochial pro-Biden malarkey as well as anybody.
“The eyes of not only the country but the world have been on Scranton because of Joe Biden, and he’s never forgotten where he’s come from,” he said. “And I think people really take a lot of pride in the fact that we have a president that is from our city and we should celebrate that.”
Not really.
Business owners rebelled to decry the cost and inconvenience of changing addresses, brands, etc. Others worried Biden might do something so goofy he’ll never live it down and Scranton residents will have to suffer the collateral damage until the end of society as we know it – which might come sooner than we think. Bikers for Trump and a variety of mumbling Republican numbskulls, dangerous gun-toting sociopaths and unbalanced unregistered basket cases opposed the change on other grounds.
Back in November city officials named a street across from Biden’s childhood home Biden Way. The Scranton mayor showed up for the unveiling – the new mayor, not the old mayor, because he’s doing seven years in a federal prison for local political corruption – promising the symbolism of the street sign will give “a lasting boost of confidence to every child who lives here.”
Biden’s presidency will have a tough time competing for hope among Scranton parents who have a tough enough time as it is simply getting their kids into preschool programs the school district cancelled.
City council also renamed the Central Scranton Expressway the President Joseph R. Biden Jr. Expressway in the recent official name change – more than a mouthful, to be sure.
You’d think Biden would be beside himself with all the fawning hometown attention. I know he’s busy losing control and credibility in Afghanistan, but a simple public thank-you is not too much to ask.
So far, though, mum’s the word from the president.
Worry not, America.
Biden Street beats laughing gas to cure our national malaise.
A blissful, glowing state of mind, Biden Street surpasses all the cheap Irish whiskey you can drink at the local bigoted Friendly Sons of St. Patrick all-male, mostly white dinner where Biden appeared three times as featured sexist speaker.
And, unless sponsors again postpone the previously postponed St. Patrick’s Day parade scheduled for this month, oblivious kiss-me-I’m-stupid revelers will be marching down Biden Street even if dozens of bagpipers with beer on their breath drop dead from COVID disease.
Downtown Scranton now rivals one big Hank’s hoagie, a more than satisfying gut-busting cholesterol-laden sandwich dripping with oil from Biden’s favorite hometown haunt. Biden burping back better doesn’t even embarrass his boosters.
As a Scranton Democrat who voted for our hero, I marvel at the flashy mass hallucinations that rival anything you might see with your head in the cannabis clouds.
But why should you care?
You’re living in Deadwood, South Dakota, Gatlinburg, Tennessee, or Bandera, Texas, and wondering why Biden Street in Scranton matters to you. Our hard coal paradise should matter to everybody, especially if you’re young and oppressed.
That’s why I’m inviting you to relocate.
Maybe local leaders can siphon moving expenses from all the federal COVID money flowing into town that’s being abused by God knows how many seasoned political hustlers and other well connected con men and women.
Pound for pound, Scranton young folks are more terminally hip than anywhere in the nation. We support more egotistical millennials who call themselves artists creating more safe inoffensive “art” than anywhere in the land.
Overwhelmingly white Scranton even has a Martin Luther King Jr. mural. We also have one of John Lennon that looks like John Denver.
Imagine that.
Better yet, we have a wall painting that portrays Dwight Schrute, the dopey character from The Office television comedy that takes place in Scranton but was filmed in Panorama City, CA.
A few years ago I called Rainn Wilson, the actor who plays Schrute on the sitcom, when he failed to appear at a cast reunion. Did Wilson offer deep regret and love to his fans? No. The one trick horse’s ass ranted about how I got his cell phone number and told me to never call him again. I didn’t call back but did lay bare Wilson’s bloated ego to listeners on my radio show, many of whom expressed disappointment at Wilson’s see-through insolence.
For the record, a buddy of mine gave me Wilson’s private cell number he kept from the time Lackawanna County officials made Wilson an honorary deputy sheriff. I still want Wilson’s badge revoked if only because he was dumb enough to give out his private phone number in the first place.
Unfortunately, I have no doubt more Scranton college students know Dwight Schrute’s storyline better than Martin Luther King’s.
Diversity in Scranton mostly means white kids in Catholic prep school listening to black gangster rap. How chill is that? Who wants to proclaim himself or herself a Blood or a Crip before applying to Holy Cross? Snoop Dog swigging gin and juice is hands down cooler than the Pope guzzling sacramental wine.
Dull Chamber of Commerce type adults and other elite Establishment bores who never made it on Wall Street can also hobnob on Biden Street with all the swagger of big city investment bankers high on hedge funds.
And it’s only a matter of time before a couple of mob associates flush with government startup cash open up a strip club on Biden Street called the White House where nude dancers can shake their Biden booty.
Let us also not forget increasing numbers of refugees from Haiti, Afghanistan and elsewhere who deserve comfort on Biden Street. Biden should throw open the borders and make refugees instant citizens eligible to vote. We need a better breed of American than the white supremacist antivaxer religious fanatics and other native-born clodhoppers who stormed the Capitol on January 6.
In the old days most of our grandparents and great-grandparents flocked to Scranton from other countries to dig coal. Countless new immigrants deserve a shot at living on Biden Street the same way the Scranton dream beckoned when WASP mine owners (whose descendants still oppress workers in Scranton) called Italians “colored people.”
We now have room on Biden Street for all the people of color we can handle!
Blacks from poverty-ridden inner cities are welcome here, too, hard-working, decent people who just want to escape gun violence, food deserts and corporate-sponsored environmental injustice.
Of course, Biden is particularly welcome to buy a sweet new loft on Biden Street. Will he come home for the ribbon cutting?
I hope not.
But if he does, despite the picketers, malcontents, leftover Paddy’s Day drunks and weed-puffing, grudge-carrying Bernie Sanders supporters, I’ll be there to invite him to stay.
Living on Biden Street is better than being up shit creek without a paddle.
Empathetic Joe Biden will understand.
The president’s been adrift in a stinking Washington crap canal his whole political career.
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