there are diners everywhere. so many diners. your favorite secondhand bookstore has become a diner. your church has become a diner. your home has become a diner. they offer half-off cheeseburgers on tuesday evenings.
nothing can compare to real long island bagels. you have tasted every bagel on the planet. none are as good as long island bagels. even the bagels made by god himself cannot compare to a good old long island bagel
you do not like the long island medium. she doesn’t show what true mediums are like. after all, your second-grade teacher, your grandmother, and your cashier were also mediums.
your entire family is on long island. your eccentric cousin. your long-dead ancestors. all of them live on long island, and all of them live in your home. it’s crowded, but you deal with it.
there is a 7/11 on every block. you cannot escape them and their slushies and offers of $1 pizza, and it haunts your every nightmare.
there is a parade for everything. old rock day. umbrella day. parade day. they never stop, and, eventually, you know you, too, will become part of one of the dreaded parades.