If this inferno-esque weather is good for anything, it is this: I can toss up some new stuff on my blog that is long, long, overdue. No blog about dog shit is complete without voicing a few thoughts about Mr. Krupnik.
Like most people, I harbor mixed feelings about him. On one hand, I found his Christmas display hilarious. I also like his ‘stand-up’ attitude about people who do not pick up after their dogs. His assessment of why people choose not to pick up their dog shit is dead on: entitlement. I would also be a liar if I did not mention that he was a major influence regarding my decision to blog about the dog shit problem in Greenpoint— and the city at large.
On the other hand, I do not approve of his methodology, e.g., rubbing dog poo on the owner’s back. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably would have done one of the following:
- Bag it, shout at the girl (“You forgot something!”) and hand the bag of doo to her.
- Blog it.
One of the (many) things I love about living in New York City— especially Brooklyn— is its citizens’ willingness to call other people on their
bull dog shit. If you cannot or will not police your actions, someone else will do it for you. Quickly, concisely and with a piquant type of wit I have not beheld anywhere else.
If I cared to overcome my aversion to crossing the East River, and Mr. Krupnik found my eccentricities tolerable, I bet we’d make good neighbors. I find him a lot more palatable in comparison to some of the folk* in my building, but I am not willing to subject my person to his (potential) wrath. I can easily see my predilection for using power tools (while cranking Britney or Joan Jett** to cover up the noise) as a provocation— and I care not to venture as to where he would shove my cds or tools in/on my body in retaliation. Scary indeed.
Otherwise, I have a number of irons in the fire. As you may have noticed already, I have set up a number of new pages that are bereft of content. Among them are the following:
- Shitty Confidential: I created this to house all things that do not pertain to dog shit proper.
- Shop Cats: this will be a photoblog featuring (duh) shop cats— and yes, shop dogs— if/when I find them. My reason(s) for creating such a page are as follows:
- There has been a spate of animal cruelty here in Greenpoint. Specifically, someone has made it a practice to shoot cats— with a gun— of recent. My well-intentioned, but probably misguided, motivation underlying the creation a page of featuring shop cats is to illustrate that every pet has a name and someone who loves him/her.
- They’re cute. (Yeah, I’m soft that way.)
*Like the woman in Apt. #6. She’s a total shitbag and I should know: the way our buzzers are rigged, every sack of pus who comes here (seeking Girl 6’s company/services) hits our buzzer. At all hours. Just in case you are wondering, I have labelled our buzzer— and these folk cannot or will not READ IT. They tap it like the well-trained lab rats (seeking a pellet) that they are.
**If you live in Brooklyn and have not experienced the glory that is Ms. Jett’s song Coney Island Whitefish, spend the 99 cents on i-tunes and get it. I can’t believe my mother let me play this shit on her car’s tape player when she drove me to elementary school.