To the son of a bitch who walked out of this coffee shop with the front section of the Times: get back here with the front section of the Times, you son of a bitch. This coffee shop did not provide a free copy of the Times just so you could steal the one section everybody cares about, leave it sitting around your apartment for three days, then shove it in a soy-sauced sack from Hot Kitchen Chinese and toss it in the garbage. That you assume this was their intention makes you greedier than Bernie Ebbers, Jeffrey Skilling, and all the other CEOs whose exploits were captivating enough to liberate them from the Business Day backwaters and thrust them into the very section you’re obliviously sitting on right now, as you watch Ali Fedotowsky and a hypnotically attractive guest host give you a first look inside another establishment your selfishness will no doubt one day ruin for everybody.
South Beach Wine & Food Festival
The only words you'll actually read once you get back home with your stolen section of the paper
If you really want to read the front section at home, use the Internet. If you can’t work around the pay wall, you are stupid, and reading the front section won’t change that. If you prefer the magical feeling that comes with holding the print edition of the front section between thumb and forefinger, WELCOME TO THE CLUB, ASSHOLE.
If you're not in the business business, Business Day is this fun to read
Oh, what’s that, you don’t deserve to be despised, because you graciously left behind all the other sections of the paper? Screw you. This Sports Page is exhibiting dangerously low levels of inane Johnny Manziel tweets, and is clearly suffering from a terminal case of French cycling and British golf. Travel leads with "The Other Algarve" -- addictive reading for travel junkies, but not for people who assume the original Algarve is some guy named Al Garve. Metropolitan? Not touching it unless New York City elects a city comptroller who loves hookers, but then that’s another story that’ll land on the front page.
It is nice that you left Arts & Leisure. Like the Times, it also took me four months to bother noticing that Robin Thicke had done something controversial -- as far as I'm concerned, that story reads as fresh as the vegetables at Fine Fare are not. It was also pleasing to discover that the Danish director of Drive almost definitely has sexual fantasies about Ryan Gosling forcing Lars Von Trier to perform oral sex. On the other hand, what were the odds that, even as you absconded with Section A, someone else would walk in harboring a burning desire to learn more about Israeli dance troupes and “obscure” operas (aren’t they all?).
In short, even though you left Arts & Leisure, you still suck.
How did this couple manage to book airline tickets to a place that doesn't exist?
Does dismissing the rest of the Times make me a cretin who elevates the severity of other peoples' crimes by mounting them atop the pillars of his own deficiencies? Yes. Now shut your stupid face. Of course all of these other sections are, in fact, wonderful, well-written sections whose depth puts other publications to shame (who even knew Robin Thicke had a career before meeting Pharrell? the Times, that's who), but they are not the front section.
The front section kicks ass. It is the highest form of lowest common denominator. It makes us feel intelligent without demanding that we get too esoteric. It makes us feel connected without forcing us to start caring about what's happening in our own backyard, which is totally exhausting unless an e-penis is involved. It's what we need on a weekend afternoon when we want to pretend we're smart before going out and getting stupid again. You know this about the front section. That's why you slid it in your bag and slithered all the way back to your snake hole.
Answer: not the longest heat wave since 2002
Of course it’s possible that you didn’t take the front section home, and instead right this very moment you’re idyllically flipping through the good stuff on a park bench. If that’s the case, please, keep soaking up the sun as you read that sweet story about Pope Francis's controversial trip to Brazil. According to the City Room blog, it is hot as shit outside. So hot, in fact, that you will probably become first person ever to die from hyperthermia immediately after exiting a place that serves iced lattes.
Then all the other patrons of this coffee shop will be able to read about your historic demise in good old-fashioned print, because you won’t be around to steal the front section ever again.