Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Anyone who lives Greenpoint (particularly around McGolrick Park) is familiar with the house at left. It is located on Nassau Avenue and is without argument one of the more endearingly quirky landmarks our fair burgh has to offer. The previous having been said, it goes without saying this edifice is a reflection of its owner. Whether this gentleman (who I have nicknamed the “Karate Krishna”) knows it or not, he is a Greenpoint celebrity of sorts.
Many stories about about this gentleman (as seen at right) abound, such as his habit doing Tai Chi in his backyard every morning. God only knows his political views (which he has seen fit to expostulate upon in the front windows of his shop) are interesting enough. I cannot rightfully say I agree with most of them, but how can I not love a guy who takes his grandchildren around the neighborhood in a tricked-out carriage such as this? While beating a tambourine, no less!
Needless to say I was absolutely thrilled when I walked down Nassau Avenue today and discovered he had souped it up for the season!
Behold, a very special Greenpoint sleigh!
The four foot tall inflatable candy cane is my personal favorite. Although the addition of a umbrella handle for greater steering control is a nice touch as well.
Here’s a view of the back.
I don’t know who you are, “Karate Krishna”, but I want to thank you on behalf of all my fellow Greenpointers for giving us a something to smile about this holiday season!
Okay. This conglomeration of stuff (from Guernsey Street) is nothing new. It has been around as long as I can remember (eight years). Initially I thought it was a trellis for roses. In the absence of such greenery, however, I am beginning to have my doubts.
Whatever it is it has gotten larger over the years. Much larger.
I would also be remiss if I didn’t point out that (as a sculptor) I find the assortment of media pressed into service to create this structure diabolically resourceful. Among the items I can clearly identify as components are part(s) of a bunk bed, an ironing board, a shoe rack, several mops, a baker’s rack, a chandelier and a couple of curtain rods. But back to the purpose of this post: what is this? Anyone out there know the scoop? If so, please share.
UPDATE, 4:30 p.m.: We have an answer! (See comments)
From Huron Street.
Filed under: Williamsburg
God knows that I detest slavery, but it is an existing evil, for which we are not responsible, and we must endure it, till we can get rid of it without destroying the last hope of free government in the world.
But I’ll cease beating around the proverbial Bush. I have the pleasure of sharing the same birth date as this jerk: January 7. Initially I felt guilty about liking the place that bears his name in Williamsburg (a beautiful block located in a wasteland of over-development and crass commercialism).
Until I noticed this.
Henry Miller* wrote:
There was a little street, just a block long, which lay between Grand Street and North Second Street, called Fillmore Place. This little street was obliquely opposite the house my grandfather owned and in which we lived. It was the most enchanting street I have ever seen in all my life, It was the ideal street— for a boy, a lover, a maniac, a drunkard, a crook, a lecher, a thug, an astronomer, a musician, a poet, a tailor, a shoemaker, a politician. In fact this was just the sort of street it was, containing just such representatives of the human race, each one a world unto himself and all living together, a solid corporation, a close knit human spore which could not disintegrate unless the street itself disintegrated.
I say we landmark this block (before it is disintegrated) and rename it Miller Place! Or at the very least give him a toast this upcoming Friday (December 26): Mr. Miller’s 117th birthday.
*Whose tomes entertained me for many hours while working as a temp receptionist at Morgan Stanley/Dean Witter’s Equity Research department one summer. Tropic of Cancer is by far the better novel, but Tropic of Capricorn (clearly) has its moments. If my memory serves me correctly I also (re)read Slaughter House Five, Cat’s Cradle, Animal Farm and 1984 as well. Miss Heather loves to be paid $14.00 an hour to man a front desk, not answer phones, “buzz in” the occasional jerk who “lost” his pass card and read. Although on occasion I had a former temp (permanent hire) berate me for positioning the magazines on the coffee table in a linear fashion. She preferred them to be “fanned out”. She thought that was more appealing to visitors. Whatever.
When someone says the “the land of the midnight sun”* a number of things come to mind. And quite frankly none of them are very appealing:
- Sarah Palin
- Sherry Johnston
- Levi Johnston (I have no doubt in due time the apple won’t fall too far from the tree (See Point #2). And of course, there’s this.)
- Teenage/unplanned pregnancy**
In regards to point #2, at least she got out on bail in time to meet her grandchild. Some of you may not agree with my politics and that is your prerogative. However, in light of the recent presidential election (and all the hilarity that came with it) would you name your establishment this?
If you’re opening a business at 842 Manhattan Avenue in Greenpoint, Brooklyn you would!
A tanning parlor. That’s about as useful (and needed) here as a(nother) bank, Thai restaurant, bar or 99 cent store.
Alaskan Sun Tanning
Hours: 10:00 a.m. – 10:00 p.m., 7 days a week
842 Manhattan Avenue
Brooklyn, New York 11222
I wonder if they’ll be slinging bags of meth with those UV rays? After all the Garden Spot is the birth place of Hot Sausage!
*This was the subject of lively debate here at Chez Shitty. The Mister said Alaska was called “The Final Frontier” I said I thought it was “The Land of the Midnight Sun”. After some googling we learned that we both were in fact correct. For a chuckle check out the Alaska Governor’s Office’s “Facts and Misconceptions” page. Did you know a deluxe hamburger will only set you back $5.00-$9.95 in Alaska? I didn’t! Oh yeah, and I almost shot claret out of my nose when I saw this. Someone for the love of god PLEASE name a Van Halen cover band after this child!
**Yes, I know this happens. But if you had a teenage daughter who was pregnant would you have subjected her to national scrutiny by accepting a vice presidential nomination? Really? Of everyone in the Palin clan Bristol is the only one I have any sympathy for. I wish her the best of luck (because she’ll need it).
DISCLAIMER: This is satire. I wish our newest business the best of luck (although I find baking one’s body in a toaster oven utterly repulsive). I am not insinuating that Alaskan Sun Tanning is now nor will be a front operation for the sale of methamphetamines. Those of you who have children with Down’s Syndrome please do not get your panties in a wad. Unless of course you named your kid “Van Palin”. In which case you should have known better.
From Manhattan Avenue.
Upon noticing that there were a few items under this bit of Yuletide cheer I went in for a closer look.
That’s Williamsburg Greenpoint for you! Yes, technically McCarren Park is in Greenpoint.
This fella lost his antlers.
So I put them back!
Filed under: Williamsburg
This choice bit of bicycle basket goodness hails from Driggs Avenue in Williamsburg. There really isn’t much more I can say. This arrangement pretty much speaks for itself. Although the empty (?) can of Pabst Blue Ribbon is a nice touch.
P.S.: I am slowly— very slowly— uploading more bicycle basket goodies to my pet project: Shit In Bicycle Baskets. Thank you for your contributions and patience. Trust me, it’ll be worth it! Can you say used diapers, astroturf and golf clubs? Uh-huh!
Earlier today I wrote: I donâ€™t know about you but there is NO WAY I am going outside today!
Once the sun came out later I couldn’t resist throwing on my coat and enjoying some sorely missed sunshine. I’m glad I did as I got this lovely photograph from McCarren Park.
Happy Hannukah everybody!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
As it would happen I bumped into my buddies Mike And Laura during last week’s snowstorm. Just like myself, once they saw the snow they immediately thought of our very own waste treatment facility. However, they were more adventurous (or impervious to hypothermia) than I. Upon noticing the first hint of the white stuff our power couple (or double trouble) proceeded to Greenpoint’s nature walk without delay to capture the wonderland that is our newest park.
I got a nice picture of some yellow snow for you.
Laura said. This choice morsel has yet to find its way to my inbox. But the following, what is perhaps the finest Christmas e-card I have ever seen, has. I loved it so much I simply had to share with you. Enjoy!
Is it me or does that reindeer bear more than a passing resemblance to Mr. Hankey the Christmas turd?