Voula's Rocks In Spite of Fieri's Food Network Fist-Bump

Bro, how come more people in Seattle don't wear sunglasses or frost their tips?

There is a portion of the food loving population, often going by the term "foodie" or "professional cook," that believe the Food Network has turned cooking into a shit show of semi-hometarded antics, 30-minute ship wrecks, and general douchebaggery, reducing the term "chef" to celebrity status. A recent addition to the tool box, the blonde-tipped frat boy hawking diners, drive ins, and dives from a XXL bowling shirt was no exception to the yuckling parade of characters the Food Network force chokes the general public with. One would assume he spends as much time in the salon having the stylist bleach his hair the perfect shade of "Playboy bunny blonde" half an inch above the scalp line as his fans do devoutly watching him tool around the country choking down greasy diner food, proving once and again he is a man of the masses, not just a man of great mass.

The silhouette of the rotund platinum hedgehog should then serve as a warning, when seen stenciled on the side of a local establishment. A warning, perhaps, in that it is a beacon to the kind of people who put their worship in a man who not only wears Oakleys, but wears them backwards, the lenses resting on the back of his neck like drunken bromeos looking for the next girl to flash her tits in Cancun.

This icon, sprayed in nearly audible bleeding neons on the side of the wall at Voula's Offshore Cafe, is a siren to many--"duck and cover," watch out for girls gone wild. Thank fucking god, for Voula's, that its reputation as one of the best old school diners in the city brought a staunch stream of regulars in long before the arrival of the troops of Fieri-ites and the Food Network Decals now strewn across the awnings. Thank god, I have to say, because this time the asshole got it right.