New York Post-Partum Depression

My regular New York Post hocker on the Upper West has been MIA. The result? I've been gouging my eyes out using the fragmented sentences that make up AM New York (Named New York's Worst Newspaper 2004 by You Can't Make It Up.)

I remember with fondness the funny headlines and celebrity snapshots. The feel of the pulpy paper in my hand. My blackened fingertips, calloused and cut, my biceps stringy and hard from the heft of its news. Horses Cloned Via D.N.Neeeiiigh? You said it, Posty.

Following is a link to an article from a few years ago describing in pitch-perfect Post prose a man arrested for stalking Serena Williams. An excerpt:

In the interview, Stromeyer said his wealthy family and friends helped him finance his stalking, and he charged $15,000 on his HSBC credit card. "Please thank the bank," he said, smiling. "I couldn't have stalked without them."

He calls tennis "the game of kings."

"It is a graceful game that reveals the personality of the players," he said. "Serena is a dancer. She is the ballerina of tennis."

He said he fell in love with her two summers ago when he first saw her playing on TV. "She has this perfect tuft of hair. I had to watch her in person," he said.

There's nothing I can add to make this any funnier, so just read the whole thing, will ya?

I'm a Sweet Stalker [via Chelsea Peretti]