First-class prose? In the blogosphere?

I present the first paragraphs of two blog posts, each written in much better style than the medium deserves.

Luc Sante:

"Cats," I said, "Let's get real, real gone"—and the rest is history. Or it should have been. Because no one outside my immediate family has ever heard this legendary performance, recorded in a rickety booth on the Rockaway midway on August 16, 1952. My sidemen, Carl Jr. and Bip, were sadly caught in the eye of a multi-vehicle pileup on Cross Bay Boulevard on their way home, and their talents were claimed for the choir eternal. And neither my family nor myself have heard the recording since the evening of that fateful day. The minute the tone arm came down on its grooves we trembled, realizing its revolutionary significance. We knew that if anyone were to release its contents, the course of history would be altered and the youth of America—nay, the planet—would never be the same again.

Ben Greenman:

This story starts with two beautiful women. I knew neither of them. I know neither of them. It was on the subway. One was black, tall, and to my left. One was short, white, and to my right. Both were around twenty. It made for a nice balance, which isn't to say symmetry. I am old and married but still I ogled for a minute: nature's way. Then I got on with noticing other things, including that both were reading books, one of which was The Secret History and the other of which was The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat.

You don't need me to tell you to read the whole thing.