Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
Brooklyn Photos du Jour: Something For The Kids
From Dekalb Avenue, Bedford Stuyvesant, August 21, 2008.
From Manhattan Avenue, Greenpoint, September 3, 2008.
Miss Heather
Crapped And Tapped
Filed under: Bed-Stuy, Bum Shit, Dung of the Day, Long Island City, Other Shit, Queens
I have a predilection for documenting shit: be it human, canine or sub-standard construction. I also have a fascination for public pay phones rendered useless by human abuse. But alas of late I have become jaded.
This paltry specimen from Bed Stuy didn’t impress me. The receiver is gone, someone lost his shirt, yada, yada, yada…
I wanted MORE.
I got it...
courtesy of Queensboro Plaza. I can’t honestly say I will miss this eyesore. But the construction fences demarcating what is arguably one of the UGLIEST BUILDINGS in New York City leaves much to the imagination…
and the incontinent. It reeks.
Note the happy people gracing this pay phone kiosk. They’re all “thumbs up”— not unlike our fearless leader. Neither they nor King George the Second (fighting the war on terror overseas) would want to pick up— much less use— the phone contained therein.
Which is worse: a crapped phone* or a tapped phone? Go to Queens Plaza and figure it out for yourself.
Miss Heather
*That is shit. Trust me. How the hell they got it ON the phone is beyond me.
Fedders Friday: Back To Basics In Bed Stuy
As I indicated yesterday, I took a rather long walk. I rambled through Greenpoint. I knocked around East Williamsburg and even a little Bushwick. Then I arrived at the home of much Fedders goodness: Bedford Stuyvesant. Here are some of my findings.
This beauty hails from Broadway. Note the prominently placed electric meters and extensive use of stick-on numbers. Clearly the person responsible for this building spared no expense: those numbers cost $1.99 a pop!
This charming specimen comes from Monroe Street. As I was taking the above photograph a child was wailing from the second window from the top left.
Maybe these satellite dishes offended his aesthetic sensibilities…
or Dong Dong (conveniently located at the end of the block) was taking to long to deliver his Chow Mein? Only he knows for certain.
This selection hails from Tompkins Avenue. For those of you not in the know, this thoroughfare is named after Daniel D. Tompkins, former New York State Governor and the 6th Vice President of the United States. Per Wikipedia:
While as governor of New York, Tompkins personally borrowed money and used his own property as collateral when the New York state legislature would not approve the necessary funds for the War of 1812. After the war, neither the state nor the federal government reimbursed him so he could repay his loans. Years of litigation did not end until 1824, and it took a toll on his health. Tompkins fell into alcoholism, and as vice president he at times presided over the Senate while drunk. He died in Tompkinsville three months after retiring as Vice President and was interred in the Minthorne vault in St. Mark’s Churchyard, New York City. Tompkins had the shortest post-vice presidency of any person who survived the office: 99 days (March 4, 1825–June 11, 1825).
Dying in disgrace (and being a Vice President) is bad enough. Do we really need to erect crap like this on the street that bears his name?
I mean the man DID help fund the War of 1812— out of his own pocket, no less.
But I suppose if this is the treatment Lafayette gets he is in good company.
Nonetheless, it strikes me as being a little unfair. I mean, if this is how we treat the memory of a pretty good Governor (if a bit marginal Vice President), how will time treat someone like Dick Cheney or Eliot Spitzer? My mind cannot muster anything suitable for Mr. Cheney, but I think I have Mr. Spitzer covered.
Former New York City Mayor James “Jimmie” J. Walker (who was hardly a saint but sure knew how to coin a phrase) was once quoted as saying:
A reformer is a guy who rides through the sewer in a glass bottom boat.
Methinks Mr. Spitzer did a little more than simply ride through the sewer in a glass bottom boat. I think he took a nice long bath.
Therefore I would like to humbly suggest that Greenpoint’s very own shit tits be renamed the Eliot L. Spitzer Memorial Waste Treatment Facility*. Thoughts anyone?
Miss Heather
*Sure, the man ain’t dead yet but his career in politics sure as hell is!
Crosstown Local Photo du Jour: Corsair!
I have patronized the G train long enough not to be surprised by who (or what) I see riding with me. I have seen Elvis. I have seen a drunk Polish man offer vodka to his imaginary friend. I have seen public masturbators …more than once. When I hopped onto the subway yesterday at Bedford-Nostrand I discovered a hitherto unknown Crosstown Local demographic:
PIRATE CLOWNS!
True to form, no one gave him a second look. I was tempted to ask him for a photograph (his nose was painted red, I found this kind of charming), but he seemed pretty engrossed in yesterday’s edition of the New York Daily News so I didn’t want to disturb him. When he got off at the Metropolitan Avenue stop I noticed the large red button on his cap read “staff”. I’m guessing this is so he can be distinguished from any practicing amateur or non-Union pirates which may happen to be milling about Williamsburg.
ARGHHH!
Miss Heather
HEY LADIES!
Now that I have your attention I am pleased to pass along a very unique dating opportunity. Are you tired of men who are too damned choosy? You know who I am talking about: the kind of guy who sports a little more in the middle (or a little less on the top) but insists upon dating no “fatties” or “uglies”? Well, I have found a gentleman who has not only dispensed with such shallowness, but he knows exactly what he wants.
His name is “Motorcycle Johnson” and this is his personal ad. It can be found on Broadway under the J & M train. I realized the above type is a little difficult to read, so you can either click on the above image to view larger one or read the following transcription of Mr. Johnson’s dream girl:
6000 motorcycle sextant inversion method on Friday. Cream cheese-sea-time fourteen isn’t elevator elevator sometimes otherwise not fuck. Twelve. Boring. Fixed anyone? Barbary glabber, sevezno aptitude. WHY NOT?!
If this sounds like you please shoot Mr. Johnson an email as soon as possible. As you can see he already has a few takers.
Good luck!
Miss Heather
Bed Stuy Photo du Jour: Beware Of Dog
Filed under: Bed-Stuy
I encountered this petite pup on Decatur Street today. As it would happen a next door neighbor was out front so I asked her what the deal was with him (or her). She told me she didn’t remember why the woman tethered this “guard dog” (which appears to be a German Shepherd) to her stoop, but it has been there for “at least a year”.
Miss Heather
Models Galavanting In Our Misery
Filed under: Bed-Stuy, Bushwick, Greenpoint Magic, Long Island City, Queens, Williamsburg
I will not disclose who I received this (forwarded) email from because I like— and much more importantly respect— said person. Regardless, as a citizen who lives in a neighborhood teeming with environmental fuck-ups I do not appreciate the tone of said message. Hence why I am posting it here on New York Shitty:
Thanks for getting back to me… (insert name, lol). I’ve shot at DUMBO already and so has everyone else, it’s considered overdone! The more grittier locations are what’s good for high fashion. Aggregate is like a sand and coal mixture, I think it’s used for paving… anyway, they store this stuff in huge piles so it forms pyramids or mountains and it looks really cool (I attached a few images). The only thing is that I can’t seem to find out where the compounds are…
The cement plant at the Morgan Avenue Stop of the L immediately comes to mind. But if any of you, dear readers, can think of abject sites in Brooklyn (Queens, Staten Island or the Bronx) which complement sinuous models clad in glamorous apparel email me at missheather (at) newyorkshitty (dot) com. I’ll forward them.
Miss Heather
Williamsburg Photo du Jour: The Billyburg Banana
This fantastic piece of fruit (which is actually located on Hope Street) is dedicated to the immensely talented proprietress of Bed Stuy Banana. As many of you know she has decided (with the exception of this post) to take a much-needed break from the utter insanity that is blogosphere. You might be a self-professed curmudgeon, Banana but your incisive, piquant and yes, occasionally cranky words and pictures are very much missed by yours truly. I hope to see more of you next month!
Miss Heather
P.S.: On a totally UNRELATED note, I am currently piecing together an utterly fabulous film/slide presenation of my Mermaid Parade experience, so stay tuned!
Rides
This week I have been blessed with spotting no less than three fascinating motor vehicles. Yesterday I presented one of them (the Vandam R.V.). Here are the other two.
First up, this Bad Boy hailing from Greene Avenue in Bedford Stuyvesant.
Mister Heather says this is a Mercury. I say it is BAD ASS.
Here’s a shot of the rear.
Love the gearshift.
Next up is a little something I found as I was knocking around the industrial area of Greenpoint. It was a real show stopper. Literally.
Every car that drove by slowed down to a crawl to get a good eyeful of this bus.
And this bus is quite the eyeful.
Note the use of decapitated heads.
VIVA TIKA!
(Whoever that is.)
WARNING: objects in mirror are much stranger than they appear.
Miss Heather
P.S.: Wanna see more of this bus? Check out my photo set on flickr!
Butt Ugly In Bed Stuy
(Or, the Gruesome Twosome)
I have been hard pressed to find something that can begin to approach the Fedders fineness of last week’s offering. After all, how can one possibly top medical waste boxes chained to burglar bars? To this end I have decided to feature two buildings from Bed Stuy. I have taken to calling them “The Gruesome Twosome”. The reason I have given them this moniker will become all too clear soon enough.
This beauty hails from the intersection of Stuyvesant Avenue and Lexington. Note that the city has bothered to place a reproduction vintage lamp post on this corner. This attempt at beautification is totally undermined by the steaming pile of doo-doo behind it. Follows are a few of my favorite accouterments:
- The phlegm-colored awning gracing the right-hand property.
- A rather tall fence demarcating the property. If you look carefully you will notice this fence is grey to the right and white to the left. I guess they couldn’t make up their mind.
- Exposed gutters: a must for any Fedders worth a lick of salt.
Let’s look around back, shall we?
Ah yes, what would a Fedders Special be without balconies overlooking what appears to be a garage! Note that the lower balcony has been partially painted black. Did they run out of paint? Is this some form of artistic expression? I suppose only they know for certain.
The overall cold-war era feel is augmented by the grey sheet metal doors, exposed cinder blocks and aluminum chimneys. Methinks this building should be named the Sofia Mews— as in Sofia, Bulgaria.
Welcome to the People’s Democratic Republic of Bedford Stuyvesant! Best to mind you P’s and Q’s. Big Brother is watching.
I like to call this photograph Ye Olde Soviet Rust. I can almost hear Khrushchev using a piece of footwear improperly from here…
As with any worker’s paradise, the need for housing for the proletariat is paramount. Thankfully the above beauty has a companion a short distance away on Greene Avenue.
If you worked all week fighting Capitalist swine, you’d be home by now!
Parking for members of the Politburo only.
Great Jumping Yankee Satan’s underpants! Ain’t no way NATO is getting through these doors!
In the event of Free-Market Capitalist military aggression, please head to the bomb shelter conveniently located down stairs.
Numbers?!? Those are decadent! That $1.99 a number could be spent on building munitions. A piece of chalk or pencil will suffice, Comrade.
All you Capitalist pig dogs out there, listen up:
We will bury you
…under ass ugly architecture, that is!*
Miss Heather
*Big props go to Jayspec for coming up with this one!
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