New York Post columnist Cindy Adams

You may have seen a couple of other articles about this topic floating around the internet from my coworkers that take a bit more classy and filtered responses to the article that Cindy Adams wrote for the New York Post about her recent trip to Maine. Let me not bury the headline anymore, because this won't be a classy or filtered response at all.

Because the New York Post and Cindy Adams are trash. So it makes sense they'd be intertwined.

Joanna Mastroianni - Front Row - Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week Spring 2014
Andy Kropa
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That woman above? That's Cindy Adams. The absolute wench of a human being that wrote the article mentioned above taking a dump on Maine. And if you actually read her stupid article, well, you'll understand why I'm going in so hard on this sucknugget. An eye for an eye. I may not have been born and bred in Maine. I may not be a Mainer. Hell, I may have had Mainers give me crap for mistakenly calling myself a Mainer instead of a Maine resident (I still don't get it, but I respect the culture), but Maine is my home now.

And you don't mess with home.

She's pompous and snobby

Right from "go," Cindy makes it obvious she thinks quite highly of her dinosaur self (from what I hear, she's 92, but I don't care about her enough to check) and makes sure to flex her social status. (And before anyone tries to say I'm misquoting her, I'm openly telling you right now this next featured quote will take bits and pieces that she wrote that prove my point -- they weren't all said in one consecutive sentence.)

"I’m a world traveler. Longtime friends whose ancestors founded the state of Maine in the 1800s and are in its museums and histories invited me. It’s north. Eight hours as the crow and a BMW flies."

You know how I read that last part? As if it were written as, "...aS tHe CrOw AnD a BmW fLiEs." As if we're supposed to be impressed with the fact she drives a BMW. Cool story, bro. I pull into a parking garage every single day where I see Audis and BMWs and other "rich people cars" -- not impressed, you fossil.

Dominique Lelievre
Dominique Lelievre
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And after a quick geographical breakdown of Maine -- did you know we have beaches, trees, big lobsters, lighthouses, coastlines, and more scenic sites? -- she wastes no time in starting her smack talk.

"Locals whose behinds overlap the state of Texas all stuffed into shorts. Realtors could establish an entire campsite on the average ass."

1) Why are your eyes on our behinds, Cindy? And 2) I'd rather have an ass you can establish a campsite on than a face that looks like it's been stretched more than Silly Putty and stuffed with enough filler that the Titanic could rise from the depths of the ocean. You know, the boat you were probably an original occupant of?

"New England’s largest state, it’s sparsely populated and 90% forest but looked like no trees went to build elegant stores. Also forget consignment shops because what they’re wearing is already consignment stuff."

Mind you, she said that last part after calling out cities like Portland, Ogunquit, Bar Harbor and more and mentioning "the concept of dressing is only for the salad." Hey Cindy -- it's summer, you dolt. And we just got pummeled with a couple of heat waves. Sorry (not sorry) we're not in the five-piece suits on a 95-degree day your boujee existence is used to. We dress for comfort, not social status, you jackhole.

Vidar Nordli-Mathisen
Vidar Nordli-Mathisen
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"The Garage was once an actual garage. Now inside where formerly they repaired trucks and motors they serve ribs with cornbread, coleslaw, tubs of beer. Everybody does beer. They probably shower with it."

You're damn right we shower with beer. You know how I know deep down, Cindy, you actually hate yourself and your life, which is probably why you wasted some of whatever remaining time you have trashing a bunch of strangers that truthfully were probably more tourists than locals simply enjoying their life? Because you clearly have never experienced a shower beer. Or, in your snobby case, it'd be a bath martini with your pinky finger out and some underpaid person you probably won't tip giving your gout-filled feet a pedicure. Shower beers (or shower anything, really) are fantastic.

And then, after even more smack talk which doesn't need to be highlighted since we've already given this disrespectful, snobby beast too much attention as it is, she wraps up her "article."

"Mainers, maybe ecstatic just to see anyone, are friendly. Anything you want, except for trees, you have to get in your car to get. I climbed into mine to get back to civilization and New York."

Good. And don't come back you wretched, miserable snob. I hope a seagull took a massive dump on your beloved BMW on your way across the Piscataqua River Bridge. And I hope your window was open while it happened.

Think this was harsh and that two wrongs don't make a right? You mess with the lobster, you get the claws.

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