And The Winner Is...

Let's begin, as we do every week, by making excuses for not scouring all the literature--on and off line--for potential winning commentary and for our habit of forgetting much of what we did come across during the course of the week (which may or may not have something to do with the five martini a day habit).

Let's also apologize for extended run on sentences.

Now, on too this week's award. Three candidates for the top spot, with the honorable mention going to Ian Green, bartender at The Idle Rich, who called to whine about the lede to this week's Observer review. He initially felt the use of phrases like "perennial also-ran" in reference to Liverpool somehow denigrated his woeful football club. After a listening to a few common-sensical points, however, we think he came around to the Manchester United side of things.

Oh, can't tell you the quote. It was full of Britishisms and some of us had downed a few martinis.

Runner up: Jon Bryan. Shortly after we filed his 10 Questions interview, he posted this:

A higher power must have been eavesdropping. As soon as Dave finished interviewing me, I got cranky with some guy that was unable to convey exactly what kind of drinks/shots he required during an exceptionally busy portion of the evening. I'm such an asshole.

But the winner, for the wisdom of his commentary, is Scott from DallasFood.org, who recognized this problem:

Most professional food writers fall below (often well below) the median personal income for a college graduate in America. Absent independent wealth or fortuitous marriage, that's not a lot of money to develop and maintain expensive tastes in food and drink (and travel).

Right on, Scott--although he seems to forget that spending your retirement is one easy way to maintain expensive tastes. Overextending credit is another. And in combination, the two can give rather impressive returns.

Scott wins our greatest prize so far: WKRP in Cincinnati, the complete first season, on DVD--which we lifted from Wilonsky's mailbox, hoping to sell it on Craiglist so we could fund a trip to Scardello. As always, the prize remains here unless the winner dares to pick it up. We've seen grown men bite their own heads off rather than deal with our receptionist.



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