You can always leave it to East Williamsburg to keep things real. Especially when it comes to fighting dog crap— and believe you me Scholes Street has A LOT of doggie dumplings for the delectation. So much so they’re fighting back!
These people mean business, folks. As do their neighbors down the street, albeit they have taken a slightly different (and highly creative) approach to the dog shit problem.
I knew as soon as I laid my eyes upon this rather unusual electrical set up it merited investigation.
Where does that cable go?
I asked myself.
Where else? I dessicated pile of dog shit. Canine torture device or a ground-breaking experiment in alternative energy? I’ll let you make the call.
From Scholes Street, East Williamsburg.
From the Smith & 9th bound platform of the Crosstown Local at Nassau Avenue.
Filed under: Bed-Stuy
Being as today’s offerings on New York Shitty are dedicated to Little Joe I felt it only proper to finish the day with some of his amazingly piquant and precocious observations. On October 16, 2008 Bed Stuy Banana wrote:
Last night Little Joe and I were eating dinner and he says, “Sarah is bad.” Now there is a little red-haired girl in his class who simply adores him, and her name happens to be Sarah. But he’s fickle as far as Sarah goes, some days he likes her and some days he doesn’t…
It gets even more interesting from there. Do give this post a read. It’ll give you a chuckle.
Earlier today my buddy over at Queens Crap forwarded me this story from the New York Daily News. I glanced at the contents. I found them hardly surprising. I did, however, find the following comment* compelling:
THIS PROPERTY IS IN WILLIAMSBURG, NOT GREENPOINT. 235 JACKSON STREET “11211”. This reporter should do some fact checking before they try to smear a neighborhood. Greenpoint property values have actually risen 6% (not dropped) because we didn’t have all the overdevelopment of cheap ugly condos that Williamsburg did..
Whoa dude! That’s some pretty rough stuff to throw at a gal drinking her first cup of morning coffee. In addition, I fail to see why there is really any difference between over-development in Williamsburg and over-development in Greenpoint: it’s all crap no matter how you cut it. Or is it? Which brings me to the curious conversation I overheard in front of the following building on Manhattan Avenue in Williamsburg this afternoon.
Man #1: Hello there!
Man #2: Give me a bag of blow.
WOW. You know it truly has become a buyer’s market when they start demanding perquisites like Bolivian marching powder!
*I have a very, VERY good idea who is responsible for this comment.
At long last something is happening at 916 Manhattan Avenue.
It would appear we’re slated to get a wine bar and/or Turkish restaurant. I for one hope it is the latter. This neighborhood needs a little more variety when it comes to vittles* if you know what I mean.
READ: NO MORE ASIAN RESTAURANTS. PLEASE.
I learned about the above bit of Greenpoint goodness from a woman named Ashley*. She writes:
There is a very sweet piece of random art at the corner of Monitor and Driggs, right by PS 110. I have attached a couple of photos, but they suck since they were taking with a phone while trying not to get in traffic. It’s cute – a metal bird and leaves attached to the pole…
Thanks for sharing, Ashley. I suspect whoever is responsible for this also erected this sculpture on Rodney Street.
*Whose dog won yesterday’s costume contest at McGolrick Park.
As reported by Bitchcakes:
The G Train Dog won! And in keeping with tradition, when called upon, the G Train (dog) would not move. He had to be coaxed from his spot by his owner. Hilarious!
Once again life imitates art. Mazel Tov!
On October 19, 2008 Theresa wrote regarding this post:
I am a lurker of your blog. I just wanted to comment on the guy ranting at McCarren Park. Apparently, that is his place to rant. When I was there a few weeks ago, he was ranting about how it was okay for boys to go shirtless but girls can’t. He said they was wrong and sexist…
As it would happen I found a documentary on YouYube which proves our local “crazy guy” also likes to dispense his pearls of wisdom in Williamsburg. The more the merrier I say. Besides our friends to the south are entitled to a little “extra value” with those million dollar condos and prohibitively expensive rental property. Enjoy!
Where will the “crazy guy” set up his soapbox next? I guess we will all have to wait and find out!
From Jewel Street.
Life is rife with little ironies. In my case it is the fact that my father’s family (whose delightful mishmash of Lithuanian and Polish in the way of a surname I sport) immigrated to the United States via New York. It is possible— if not probable— my forebears once called Greenpoint home. Regardless one of their progeny lives in “Little Poland” now. A gal whose last name is laden with all the consonants, but alas something got lost along the way:
- I’m a vegetarian. The smell of kielbasa be it hot* or otherwise makes me queasy.
- I know very little in the way of Polish. What little I do know was learned here and would probably get me punched in the face.
Anyhoo, when I see stuff like the following (which hails from Manhattan Avenue) I really wish I was fluent in Polish.
I have no idea who SPOTKANIE z BALLADA is or what they do— but I like them! Enough so to steal commandeer the following poster to decorate my bathroom.
I cannot overstate how much joy the sight of this bit of knitted fanny floss gives me everyday. Which brings me back to their latest show. Upon closer examination I observed the “Santa” in their flier was a wee different than the one I grew up with.
It’s not the glassy-eyed expression on this gent’s face or his dirty undershirt. I’m used to that. It’s the solitary red star on his cap. This here Santa is a RED. Naturally I immediately brought this to the Mister’s attention.
Miss Heather: This Santa has a red star on his cap. He’s a Commie!
Mr. Heather: (laughing)
Miss Heather: What would Soviet Santa stuff in kids’ Christmas stockings?
Mr. Heather: (thinking)
Miss Heather: I know! A copy Das Kapital —and nothing else!
Mr. Heather: Or a free ride on his sleigh to the gulag.
Yet another childhood myth busted.
The jolly fat man (WEARING A RED SUIT NO LESS) who crawls down capitalist chimneys to give children of Bourgeoisie scum gifts every Christmas is in reality a Soviet agent. Don’t believe me? Think about what you asked dear Santa for as children, dear readers, and compare it to what you actually got. Uh-HUH. That Erector set you didn’t get wasn’t an accident, it was a message!
Rudolph’s red nose was in actuality a coded reference to a Sukhoi S-26 experimental ski-equipped jet fighter. Sleigh guided by a red-nosed reindeer my fat capitalist American ASS! And to think I grew up thinking he was a reindeer who had a cold— or possibly a cocaine problem.
I am now a sadder but wiser woman. Come Christmas Eve I imagine I’ll be kicking it in Alaska with my pal Palin. Our eyes (and scopes) will be locked on the Arctic Circle. When we take these infiltrators down I’ll leave the debriefing/interrogations/taxidermy to her.
P.S.: This one goes out to you Mr. Heather. I never thought the (numerous) evenings I tried to write while listening to you watch Soviet aircraft porn on the television— LOUDLY— would amount to anything more than aggravation and wasted time. I was wrong. Thank you.
*Someone should make a porno called “Hot Kielbasa” and it should feature Ron Jeremy.
From Calyer Street.
From Leonard Street.
From India Street.
From Sutton Street.
From Huron Street.
From Greenpoint Avenue.