Scranton Stories

I have a shameful confession to make: I was born, raised, and currently live in Scranton, Pennsylvania. That's correct. That strange, nearly mythical, dying city in the Northeast is my home. Much has been made of Scranton recently, what with the popularity of The Office and Joe Biden's status as the Vice President elect--but even before this, Scranton was consistently in the national dialogue.

Granted. this city's mention is usually as the butt of a joke (e.g. Home Alone, My Father the Hero, and numerous Saturday Night Live appearances), but it is still strange that such an unimportant and largely inoffensive place should warrant such repeated reference. It's almost as if there is some strange fascination with Scranton--even though most Americans have never (nor will ever) grace our exceedingly humble shores.

I feel it is warranted, then, to not only jump on the Scranton bandwagon but to add a little clarity about this place. I will admit that, at times, Scranton can be used as proof that if God were to vomit on a mountain it would roll downhill and sprout semi-habitable buildings--but there are other times when Scranton can actually be a very nice place.

But, for the most part, the stories I will tell will be embarrassing and indicative of a serious corruption of the local gene pool. Fortunately, my parents are from Jersey.

Stay tuned.

P.S. Disregard the entire image of God vomiting, etc. The architecture here (the old architecture, at least) is actually one of the plusses.

P.P.S. Disregard the previous. The new buildings more than destroy any advantage the old buildings would have given us. The "new" high school alone--which resembles the hideous result of Dr. Seuss having violent sex with a federal prison--is enough to turn our architectural heritage into some kind of half-assed post-post-modern nightmare.