I'm a New Yorker, born and bred. I love it here, have lived in this state all my life and have no plans to move anywhere else. Um, not unless we inherit some wonderful old villa in the hills of Tuscany. Then I might consider moving but let's just say it's a safe bet to believe I'll be hanging around the Empire State for a long time to come.
Now that I've made the case for being a full-blooded New Yorker, I can get to my real point. Or my half-a-point, depending on how much stock you put in the whole list thing. Really, some people don't give a hoot about lists but me, I take this one pretty seriously. I do.
Oh? The list! Right, sorry about that. I guess I got off on a tangent. Again.
Of course it's the New York Times Bestseller list, paperback version for this week. Do you see the lovely books on the list? I've read some of them, and enjoyed them. But I ask you, do you think all these authors are New Yorkers? Hmm?
What? Excuse me? They, um, don't have to be from New York? You're sure about that? Really?
Huh. Go figure.
So being from New York doesn't give you a leg up onto the list, then? And you're sure about that, too?
Huh. That's good to know.
Well, then, I guess I shouldn't feel too awfully terrible about not making this week's New York Times Bestseller list, should I? After all, there's always next week...