My Favorite Thing On the Internet Today™: Yelping with Cormac, "Because Yelp Needs Cormac McCarthy."


Union Square - San Francisco, CA

Cormac M. | Author | Lost in the chaparral, NM

Two stars.

The traveler found himself in a gilded and luminescent valley of commerce beset on all sides by baying signage, the air redolent in fine leather and human urine. He turned and saw behind plate glass two mannequins, their alabaster buttocks thrust toward the street, their womanly frames ballooned like some gaia figurine to be worshipped by savages and on them were pajama trousers with the word Juicy luridly stamped across the seat of the pants. Hellfire and damnation, he said.

Si, said a drifter standing beside him. The traveler had not noticed the drifter’s coming. The man’s streetblackened but noble face and vanquished suitcoat spoke of a past of finer things. The drifter gestured at the trousers in the window. He began speaking in sonorous Spanish.

He told of a world in which no men or women remained but only nymphs anointed in oils and bedecked in shameful rags. Of creatures empty of ambition and godless pursuing only carnal pleasure. That for their sins they were branded with whorish words on the seats of their trousers and while the clothes could be removed the stain of the words would remain forever.

The drifter fell silent. The store’s double doors opened and out strode a pair of young women haughty as Romans, their backsides bearing a one word epitaph for the dreams of those who came before.

Thanks to Rob for the heads up.