Culture on the Cheap
A G train rider speaks out about service cuts
I am hesitant to confirm that this brown matter is shit (canine, human or otherwise). But whatever it is, I wouldn’t want it on my hands. Or anywhere else on my body for that matter.
Then again, to nit-pick over the provenance of the substance smeared on this “Service Notice” is to miss the point. And the point being made (by one of my fellow Greenpointers at the India Street entrance to the Queens-bound G train) is all too clear.
I would love to meet the person did this. He (or she) would make an excellent addition to the New York City Transit Riders Council. A person of this caliber would make an otherwise boring public proceeding much more provocative. Fuck facts and civility; they haven’t worked before, why should we expect them to work now? I want entertainment— and I’m more than happy to purchase a Hazmat suit to get it…
Chairman: Next up, cutting weekend service on the G train to Queens for all eternity.
Greenpoint Representative (pounds chest and commences to fling feces): EEEEEP!
Chairman (wiping said feces off his lapel): Duly noted. The gentleman from Greenpoint has registered a vote of dissent. Anyone else?
You can’t deny it: the G train riders are revolting and the winds of change are a-blowing. And appropriately enough, they both smell like shit.