Boston blogger Kinjo complains that lunching bankers are destroying the peace of his park.
It's like every investment banker in the Financial District has shown up and is sprawled out on the lawn waiting for Michael Buble to show up to torture their eardrums with some pop-crooner revivalist Sinatra-esque mediocrity while they loudly eat their overpriced sandwich-wraps from Così2 and talk on cellphones in front of the friend they invited to come out to lunch. Asshole Woodstock.
We've seen what happens when bankers swarm at our own lunch spot. It's black pants and open-necked dress shirts everywhere. Salad lines wrapping around the back of Bazzini. The sad look of greed combined with resignation that, yes, this is all life has to offer.
Asshole Woodstock [Kinjo Vents His Spleen]