Culture on the Cheap
New York Shitty Photo Cavalcade
I used to work in corporate America. I found it cloying to my creativity and downright painful. Physically and emotionally. Sisyphus in a cubicle (or syphilis in a testicle) may be a cup of tea for many, but not me.
Fuck professionalism: as a former cubicle monkey I can assure you an asshole is just that. An asshole.
Fuck business attire: this basically entails making women look like men— and outlaying a lot of money to do so. I don’t think so. As long as my AA cups are erect I’ll wear tank tops. And out of pure spite, I’ll still wear tankies after they’ve tanked.
Fuck civility: whenever a man smiles or winks at me I know he is up to no good. And I tell him so. In the most base and explicit terms.
I mention the previous because I love sorting stuff at the junk shop. Not only can I be nasty as I see fit, but I also find gems like the following:
Anyone know where this was shot?
Here’s a copper reading the newspaper at Central Park circa 1943.
And last, but not least, a burned out car from Red Hook/Carroll Gardens.