Culture on the Cheap
Touched by an Anal (Probe)
New York City is a strange place. Contrary to what most Manhattanites will tell you, Greenpoint is part of New York City. What’s more, Greenpoint is a stranger part of New York City than most.
Yesterday evening I needed to the grocery store. It was 7:00 p.m. On Manhattan Avenue I heard shouting. I turned to my husband and said:
I bet it’s that guy who was shouting about Rene’s husband screwing his wife last Saturday night. He’s been pretty active lately.
It wasn’t. It was this guy.
As this guy crossed Huron Street, even Vito (a gent who happens to be mentally retarded) picked up on the strange mojo he was giving off. He grabbed his (presumably non-retarded) companion, pointed at this chap and uttered “vato loco”.
That’s when the man in black started shouting again:
HARRY POTTER, F.B.I., INCOMPETENT CUNT!!!
Immediately thereafter he ducked into the subway entrance for the Queens-bound G train. Everyone just stood there. I turned to the man behind me, gave him my best “what the fuck” face and said:
Hey, at least he got on the G train to Queens, he’s their problem now.
To wit he replied:
Yup, that Citibank tower is coming down.
“Maybe he’ll take out some of those awful high rise towers while he’s at it.” I opined and then continued my trek to the grocery store. When I entered The Garden “Metal Health” was playing by Quiet Riot. It was a fitting denouement to a very strange situation.