Today I decided on a lark to knock around the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Sensing that there may be opportunities for boobification present at this location I packed the girls and hit the road. My instincts were on target.
Nestled next to the BQE between Flushing Avenue and (what else?) Steuben Street this park is named after a Prussian army officer and who was a general in the American Revolution: Baron Friedrich Wilhelm Ludolf Gerhard Augustus von Steuben. He made a number of contributions to the Continental Army but follows (courtesy of US History dot org) is my personal favorite:
Another program developed by Steuben was camp sanitation. He established a standards of sanitation and camp layouts that would still be standard a century and a half later. There had previously been no set arrangement of tents and huts. Men relieved themselves where they wished and when an animal died, it was stripped of its meat and the rest was left to rot where it lay. Stueben laid out a plan to have rows for command, officers and enlisted men. Kitchens and latrines were on opposite sides of the camp, with latrines on the downhill side. There was the familiar arrangement of company and regimental streets.
I know what you’re thinking:
If this man advanced what it is now known as the “don’t shit where you eat” policy, why are there two boars gracing the park which bears his name?
Here’s the answer per the New York City Parks Department:
In 2000, Steuben Playground underwent a comprehensive $938,000 reconstruction funded by Council Member Mary Pinkett. The improvements included the replacement of an asphalt ballfield with picnic tables and a horticultural area. The park’s open grass area was landscaped, the handball wall and court were reconstructed, new basketball backstops were added, and new exercise equipment was installed. In addition to the two new pieces of boar-shaped animal play sculptures, a new steel fence was added around the jogging area, new concrete game tables were installed, and two animal art sculptures of boars were added. The wild boar, native to Europe, is a reminder of the foreign origins of a great American military leader.
For the record these boars already have teats (go and see for yourself). But for $938,000 they didn’t seem “grand enough” so I augmented them. The cost: $0.00.
Hall Street at Park Avenue
All things considered there wasn’t too much that tickled my titular fancy. However, this bus shelter for the B61 made the grade.
This Bebe advertisement has been getting on my nerves for some time. So I finally decided to boobify this fine specimen gracing a B61 bus stop next to the BQE. My act of art-making was met with the approval of a young man shooting hoops at adjacent Washington Hall Park: he gave me two enthusiastic thumbs up.
Washington Hall Park
When all else fails playgrounds never cease to provide ample fodder for boobification. Just take this seal. Methinks I will have to swing by here next summer with a retrofitted solo tit and get some lactation going.
Unbeknownst to me a parks employee watched me execute this one. He didn’t seem upset in the least. In fact I think he found it amusing.
And this, dear readers, concludes my latest installment of Brooklyn boobification!
1. Be sure to incorporate an iconic image of the “cool hipster dad” in your ad campaign.
2. Your proud hipster papa simply MUST close with a snarky remark.
3. Take care to thoroughly saturate subway stations along Crosstown Local with your advertising.
4. But don’t stop there: saturate the trains as well. That way they will have no other choice than to pay attention to your message. The longer the delay or the later at night, the more likely living in Downtown Brooklyn will seem like a good idea. Right?
5. Oh yeah, and incorporate the word “hip” AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. They love praise!
Now if you don’t mind I need to throw up.
November 15, 2008: Franklin Street, Greenpoint
November 16, 2008: Lafayette Avenue, Bed-Stuy
I don’t know about you but when I go out to strip SUVs on a cold November day I always tote along a fifth of Remy Martin. Nothing says “job well done” like knocking back a little V.S.O.P. after boosting an engine block, some car doors and bucket seats.
Sometimes using mass transit —even the G train— really is the better option.
Filed under: Articles of Fedderization, Bed-Stuy, Greenpoint Magic, Williamsburg
bal’ke-ne-za-shen: n. a proliferation of galleries projecting from the front of luxury condominium buildings in gentrifying neighborhoods. While often little more than concealed fire escapes, balconized buildings usually are out of context with surrounding buildings and are festooned with such various and sundry items as laundry, bicycles, and satellite dishes. v. (balconized, balconizing, balconifies) See: Fedderize, crapification, Belvedere Realty, 156 Pulaski Street.
Note the institutional light fixtures. NICE.
Filed under: Bed-Stuy
From LaFayette Avenue.
Last week I received an interesting tip from a reader. xdoobiex wrote:
check out the reveal over the wamu/ wizard electorics.
it looks like they’re finally going to fix the top of the building and is stripping off the old siding to reveal some nice old detail work.. which will be covered up by new vinyl
After the rain finally let up, I went down there and checked it out.
It’s pretty neat.
He failed to mention this classic old advertisement for a roofing and siding contractor. “Everlasting Beauty” indeed!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
From Green Street.
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
AKA: Metallicans 1:3
KNOW YOUR METAL
Oh, Greenpoint! How I do love thee? Let me count the ways… Actually there are too damned many to count so here are two:
- Where else in New York City can you buy groceries on a Sunday morning while listening to “Unchained” by Van Halen? The Garden Spot’s very own Garden, that’s where!*
- What I witnessed last night at a certain wine store on Manhattan Avenue** after meeting a good friend for dinner.
I walked into the aforementioned establishment to hear the Manager (?) and two other chaps (employees???) singing along to the music playing in the store. Suffice it to say it was NOT Lawrence Welk. The fourth gent (rounding out this quartet) then proceeded to make a major faux pas by asking:
Who is this?
The singing stopped. An air of stifling silence (save the music) and breached etiquette overtook the room. I, the outsider, decided to break the ice:
It’s Metallica, isn’t it?
Metallicans #1-3 (in no particular order): (sighs of disgust) DUH! It dates from 1986.
Gent #4: (starts to sputter an explanation —but sensing futility —stops)
Me: I don’t know which album this is, but this is definitely Metallica.
Head Metallican (to me): You know those jokes they make about Polish people?
Me (getting a little nervous): Yeah.
Head Metallican: This man (pointing to Gent #4) is 110% Polish.
I’m not too sure what it takes to be Polish in Greenpoint anymore. My surname, I have been told, is “too Lithuanian” to make the grade. What’s more my knowledge of Metallica is apparently too good.
I had some trepidations at first about posting this incident but then I thought the better of it. If you can’t laugh at yourself and bust someone’s chops in good humor (over Metallica, no less) would life really be worth living? Think about it.
*Which I took great delight in singing along the following passage (with the requisite Diamond David Lee Roth moves— inasmuch as is possible in a grocery store) much to Mr. Heather’s chagrin:
Woo-hoo! Take a look at this!
Hey man, that suit is you!
Whoo-whee! You’ll get some leg tonight for sure!
Tell us how you do! Hoo hoo hoo!
(Come on Dave, gimme a break)
Hey hey hey hey! One break, comin’ up!
**With features a certain VERY phallic vodka bottle in the window.
Filed under: Area 51
While not as elegant as the work of Poster Boy, I felt this devilishly simple poster modification (which hails from the Queens-bound platform of the G train at Clinton-Washington) worth passing along. How could the designer of this poster NOT see this one coming? Seriously.
First it was the news they sold the store and Andre would be leaving us. Next they remodeled and ceased (for all intensive purposes) carrying groceries —although to be fair the quality of the sandwiches has not suffered much if at all. Now I have yet another controversial development to pass along: no more Oreo! I met her charming temp (replacement? protege?) “Tiger” (as seen on the left) yesterday. Concerned, I asked what happened. Here’s the scoop:
Oreo is alive and well and living with a lady named Irene. For those of you who are not in the know this is the woman who gave her to the store in the first place; her cat had a little of kittens and one of which happened to be Oreo. What’s more, the word is Oreo is pregnant… again! Will she get paid maternity leave? Will she come back? Most importantly will Tiger be able to shoulder her many onerous responsibilities?
I suppose only time will tell.
In the meantime let’s make this little fella feel at home. Little Tiger has a huge some mighty big paw prints to fill!