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?
(Or some strangeness from the junk shop).
Yesterday The Thing had a customer with a most interesting request. He was seeking a thoroughly craptastic gift for five dollars or less. It was for his brother in law. I had honestly never given the matter any thought, but the good ol’ junk shop is an excellent place to purchase gifts for that not-so-special-someone: amongst all the treasure to be found are some items if, not outrightly repulsive, are downright odd. Yesterday proved to be no exception. I found an ancient, rusted out vaporizer, we agreed on the asking price of one whole dollar and our intrepid brother in law was on his merry way.
On that note I would like to share a couple choice discoveries I made at The Thing yesterday while rustling amongst the boxes (UPON BOXES) that were delivered recently. Enjoy!
1. One Bag of Floppy Disks With A Most Mysterious Note
I happened upon the note first.
This was a good thing as it enabled me to follow the author’s instructions to the letter. Let’s see what were are to read first, shall we? It looks pretty important.
Whoa dude! It’s one thing to toy with man’s life but his son’s puberty as well?!? As it would happen the Mister possesses a floppy disk reader. Guess what we will be doing this Christmas holiday? I can hardly wait.
Next up, I remember my parents telling that my Kindergarten class held a mock election in the aftermath of the Watergate scandal. Amusingly enough, my none-too-politically-aware classmates voted unanimously for Tricky Dick. I suppose that’s to be expected from a bunch of five year olds, but what about a grown adult who sees fit to erect a shrine to the man whose middle name is Milhous? Yup, you just read me correctly.
2. The Richard Milhous Nixon Shrine To Freedom
Methinks this will have to be made into a postcard. Or something. Ideas anyone?
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
I don’t know about you but there is NO WAY I am going outside today! However, I have more photographs (such as the above one I took en route to the post office*— oh joy!) to add to my collection of Greenpoint winter-time goodness, so keep an eye out for them… and STAY WARM!
*Who managed to misplace two packages of ours and where we had the pleasure of having some utterly clueless (intoxicated?) gentleman wave an envelope in our face and query us as the whether it had sufficient postage to mail. If you are wondering, the answer was yes… and no. The stamps he placed on it totalled out to 46 cents. But alas, one of them hard already been used. Dumbass.