Have the rollicking Jets finally supplanted the crosstown Giants as New York's top NFL franchise? If you believe the editors of Women's Wear Daily and scores of Park Slope hipsters, the answer is yes. For those unfamiliar with the sociological dynamics of the New York sports scene, Wall Street Journal sports columnist Jason Gay puts the Jets' newfound coolness (and the Giants' lack thereof) in context.

[Giants head coach] Tom Coughlin takes his inspiration from General Patton, [Jets head coach] Ryan emulates Bill Murray in "Meatballs." Mr. Ryan jokes like a player, swaggers like a player, and when his players stumble, he protects them like a mama bear. Much to the discipline-loving establishment's chagrin, it's working.
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The Giants are like a summer internship at your dad's friend's law office. The Jets are a lifeguard chair on the Jersey Shore. The Giants are the New York Yacht Club. The Jets are the Mars Bar.

The Giants are "Tiger Mother." The Jets are a 16-year-old babysitter who doesn't mind if you smoke and play "Call of Duty" all night.
In conclusion, don't ask the Giants to pledge your fraternity and don't ask the Jets to water your plants when you're away for the weekend.