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.
Filed under: Williamsburg
From North 11th Street.
Today’s offerings on New York Shitty are dedicated to the delightful and rather loquacious Little Joe of Bed-Stuy Banana.* You see, yesterday evening the Mister and I had the pleasure of showing him the haunted houses of Greenpoint and I gotta tell ya; he’s one tough customer! 85 Calyer was not sufficiently “scary”. 77 Russell had “friendly ghosts” as opposed to “scary ghosts” (although to be fair he rather liked the ghoul hanging in the tree).** The Anti Imbedded Mossad Partymobile barely registered a blip. They sure raise ’em tough in the ‘Stuy.
But even he had to concede the haunted house on Humboldt (now replendent with streaming green vomit action!) was “a little scary”.
This post is for you Little Joe! You know your haunted houses kiddo!
*Whose great blog turned one year old this month!
**As did a photographer from AM NY who happened to be present at the time.
Photo Credits: Mr. Heather
Filed under: Williamsburg
(Or, What Would Obama Wear?)
Last week the Democrats had a field day when they learned Sarah Palin has been lavished with $150,000 worth of clothing courtesy of the R.N.C. This in turn to speculation about Michele Obama’s clothing expenditures. Accounts very from $150 off-the-rack fare to frocks costing $900 and up. While disquieting, I am for the most part disinterested. If the Republican Party wants to outlay a such a sum on the She Wolf of Wasilla it is their prerogative. And if Ms. Palin agreed to run for Veep under the pretense of getting six figures of blue chip swag I can’t honestly say I blame her. In fact, it would betray a hitherto unknown element of (dare I say it?) cleverness on her part. But I digress.
What I want to know is what Barack wears when he’s out of the media spotlight.
Thankfully the Brooklyn Industries store on Bedford Avenue has seen fit to shed some light on this matter.
Let’s take the middle ensemble item by item shall we?
- One pair of “Shuckers” denim pants: $88.00
- One “So Hip” belt: $38.00
- One “Great Jones” turtleneck: $52.00
- I couldn’t find the hat he’s sporting here on Brooklyn Industries web site, so we’ll go with this “Soft Ribbon Hat” instead: $36.00
- Same goes for the black top worn atop the “Great Jones” turtleneck. We’re going to splurge a little and roll with this Norfolk Jacket: $148.00
- But what to do about the breasts? A pair of “Rugby Striped Crews” should do the trick: $9.00 (Marked down from $12.00!)
Grand Total: $371.00
But the above outfit isn’t really my kind of thing. Let’s go with this get-up instead!
- One “Dozy Big Beret”: $36.00
- One “Mulberry Scarf”: $46.00
- I couldn’t find the gloves online so we’ll substitute this pair instead: $19.00 (Marked down from $38.00— 50% Off!)
- One Lispenard Silk Slip Dress: $88.00
- I couldn’t find tights for sale online, so we’ll roll with opaque pantyhose in a plum hue courtesy of American Apparel: $14.00
- One pair of B cups courtesy of a pair of “Rugby Striped Crews”: $9.00
Grand Total: $212.00
In closing I would like to thank Brooklyn Industries for providing me with a most enjoyable time waster during last night’s miserable weather. Do you think you guys could throw a McCain mask on one of these mannequins? It’s not that I like the man or anything (I don’t). Rather, I’d just like to see him grinning inanely while wearing a dress.