From Conselyea Street.
Miss Heather
Yours truly didn’t feel like going— but she went anyway. I’m glad I did! For starters (and by Greenpoint standards, anyway) the meeting was pretty mellow. This is a good thing since I was not really in the mood for some of the angrier and uglier rhetoric that can (and does) come to pass at these meetings. This is not to suggest there wasn’t anger: there most assuredly was. The difference was the people (ladies all) who aired their ire were (as a friend noted) so darned nice about it! Bicyclists, illegal sidewalk vendors, impertinent youths and liquor licenses all get the treatment at the hands (or would that be mouths) of these ladies. One such lass made an observation so piquant that she has henceforth earned my undying admiration. But I am getting ahead of myself. Without further ado here is footage from last night’s meeting— along with synopses and a bit of analysis from yours truly. Enjoy!
Part I: D. I. Fulton gives opening statements/props and a general rundown of crime trends.
The Rundown:
Part II: D. I. Fulton speaks about car break-ins and the public speaks!
Part III: The Public Speaks, continued
Parts IV & V: The Public Speaks, continued
The aforementioned Greenpoint resident complains about Five Leaves’s use of the sidewalk (allegedly after permitted hours for a “sidewalk cafe”) and follows is a general discussion:
Closing observations/thoughts:
Miss Heather
*Which inasmuch as much as yours truly can ascertain is STILL operating a monthly strip club. CASE IN POINT:
**I mean this with all due respect. I have grown to absolutely adore Greenpoint grandmas over the years. I simply wish others had the pleasure of enjoying their company. It isn’t so much about “Go back to Ohio”, so to speak, as it is “Get thee to Ohio”— and get us some respect!
Yesterday, despite my better judgment (90+ degree weather and the aftermath of a cold do not mix), I took a walk. I went to the no-man’s land some call Greenpoint and others call East Williamsburg. Over the years I have developed a cynical disdain neighborhood taxonomy. This is due in large part to the real estate industry.
What I saw was the past, present and future of north Brooklyn. Do we, as a community, want to be the same or enjoy being different? Should we accept derelict testaments to speculation and greed such as 64 Maspeth Avenue as being a fact of life?
Miss Heather
After I took the above photograph (at 2:55 p.m., five minutes before game time) the man responsible for this display said:
Hurry up, I need to take this down! I do not want to jinx anything.
So hurry I did.
One cannot help but admire this level of dedication.
I hope this post doesn’t jinx the game either. Not because I am a big football fan (frankly I could care less): rather my gut instinct tells me I do not want this chap angry at me if they lose!
Miss Heather
UPDATE, 6:20 p.m.: Shortly after this post was published the game reversed in favor of the Colts. The Jets lost. 30 to 17. Whoops.
Over the years this establishment has amassed quite a repertoire of snappy signs. I myself have even documented this phenomenon on occasion. Needless to say when I found this, one of their latest opuses as documented by Bitchcakes*, in my photo pool I had to post it on New York Shitty. Nice find!
Miss Heather
*Who also recently had the experience of someone blatantly lifting plagiarizing material from her blog.
This image hails from St. Francis of Paola on Conselyea Street. (The same folks who brought us the good news about knee mail.)
Miss Heather