Greenpoint
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Culture on the Cheap
Bed-Stuy Speaks Out About Gentrification
Filed under: Bed-Stuy
Marcy Avenue sports some of the niftiest buildings this borough has to offer. When I knocked around there recently I found a real beauty at Hancock Street.
After I took the above photograph I noticed a flier affixed to the light pole next to me. Intrigued, I went in for a closer look.
Ah progress! The next thing you know they’ll be complaining about homeless boogeymen. Come to think of it, I did see a pair of police officers there roust a derelict from a park there once.
Congratulations Bed-Stuy, you have arrived!
Miss Heather
Pay Phone Pop Quiz
Question: Other than reading the signs how can you tell the following pay phone is not located in Greenpoint?
The answer should be obvious to any Greenpointer worth his salt: if it was someone would be rummaging through the bag dangling from the receiver. After checking the change slot for any errant quarters, naturally.
Miss Heather
Bed-Stuy Rolls Out Their Three “R’s”
Filed under: Bed-Stuy
It has often been said that the children are our future. Albeit trite sounding this is in fact true; we can best safeguard our future by preparing the youngsters of today for the challenges they will face as adults. The problem is that no one seems to agree upon what the aforementioned preparation entails. Hence endless tests and statistics are employed to measure a student’s “progress”. I may not be getting any younger, but I sure as hell do not envy today’s children. Theirs is a brave new world I cannot begin to comprehend.
For example:
This David Ruggles Elementary School. Not unlike Iraq, this institution is comprised of numerous “zones”.
First off, you have the “drug free” zone.
Then you have the:
- reading zone
- word zone
- spelling zone and
- success zone.
“Sheesh, that sure is a lot of zones” I thought to myself when I gazed upon the above window “but what about the arithmetic zone? How can one possibly succeed in life without knowing his (or her) numbers?” Then I proceeded around the corner and learned everything was under control.
You know what? Methinks this younger generation is going to turn out just fine. In fact, I can even tell you who wrote the above rhyming couplet: in 40 years we’ll be calling him Mr. President.
Miss Heather
The Snowmen of North Brooklyn
I had so much fun compiling this selection of Greenpoint snowmen I thought it would be fun to showcase some more fluffy fellas from different neighborhoods. Here we go!
Representing Greenpoint we have this cute little guy from McCarren Park.
I have no idea whatsoever what this is, but it too is from McCarren Park and I felt it was worth mentioning.
This curiously long fellow was kicking it in Bushwick.
If you happened to be walking down Marcy Avenue in Bedford Stuyvesant the odds are pretty good that your found this cheerful chap smiling at you. Speaking of the Stuy…
nothing says stone cold cool like a smoking snowman. I certainly hope he is considerate enough to dispose of his butts (or reefer leaves) responsibly.
Miss Heather
RESPECT: It’s a Bed-Stuy Thing
Filed under: Bed-Stuy
As I was walking around Bedford Stuyvesant recently I happened upon a rather compelling dog shit sign. In fact, it was so interesting I took a photograph of it.
A photograph which, as you can see, is woefully out of focus (such is the joy of having a new camera: learning its “quirks”). I for one find the graphics (especially the pensive bespectacled chihuahua) to be a particularly nice touch. Believe it or not, the accompanying copy is just as good— if not better. Here it is:
RESPECT yourself with regard to our streets. Curb your dog if you care about him/her and our neighborhood.
Place trash in trash cans for a better quality of life because you deserve it (a clean block looks nicer, decreases rodents & odor).
You don’t have to move to Park Ave. & Beverly Hills, just live like you do by doing the above and RESPECT will come.
Respect: it’s not just for Beverly Hills anymore.
Miss Heather
The D Word
(or Miss Heather’s Musings About The Art of the Insult)
Douche (doosh) n. (Fr. shower) 1. a. A stream of water or air applied to a bodily part or cavity for cleansing or medicinal purposes. 1. b. The application of a douche. 2. An instrument for applying a douche.
Bag (bag) n. 1. a. A usu. flexible container… *
Douche Bag (doosh bag) n. 1. A flexible container used to irrigate a woman’s vagina. 2. The insult of choice for the unimaginative.**
I recently confided my newfound hatred for this (oft employed by New York Shitty’s blogorati) epithet to a friend of mine. We despised this phrase, upon this we agreed. But the reasons for our respective distastes differed significantly. In his case, it was a matter of taste and decency. Unfettered by such concerns (after all this blog, New York Shitty, was founded on shit. Literally.) the issue (as far as my curiously eccentric world view is concerned) was one of creativity.
Sure, there was a time I invoked “douche bag”. Frequently. But once it became overused (and therefore rendered meaningless) I employed the extensive education my father provided me to come up with a replacement. Or more accurately (given Pa Heather’s predilection/gift for profanity) replacements.
- Cock sucker
- Dick head
- Fuggin’ asshole
- Homeless Boogeyman/men (courtesy of the Parks Department)
- Pig fucker (my current favorite)
All the previous are staples in my anger arsenal. When under duress the offal that finds its way out of my mouth is much more colorful. Which brings me to the point of this post: can we exercise a little more imagination when it comes to putting down our fellow men (or women) online? Please? It’s not that hard. Follows are a few insults to get your creative juices going folks.
Exhibit A: Woodbine Street, Bushwick
Calling someone “gay” is not a well constructed insult but the lack of personal hygiene angle is compelling. The essential underpinning of a good insult is to point out an aspect of your adversary that is socially undesirable. Homosexuality does not (and should not) have the stigmatizing sting it used to. New York City is the great melting pot. And in this crucible of cultures, creeds, religions, races and yes, sexual orientations, there is one thing we all have in common: noses. People who do not shower, well, STINK.
Exhibit B: Woodbine Street, Bushwick
Elijah (and his dear mother) are clearly objects of wrath on Woodbine Street.
Exhibit C: Bedford Stuyvesant
Why bother blathering about incest? Sucking pig balls is much more provocative.
Still not convinced, douche bag devotees, that your affront of choice is yesterday’s news? Maybe the following anecdote will change your ways.
This is Hana Food Deli and Grocery. It is located at 534 Metropolitan Avenue, Williamsburg. 11211. I happened to be in the area (and very hungry) so I went inside in seek of kibble.
I always preferred my douche bag on the rocks. Shaken, not stirred. Just like James Bond. A douche bag with blue cheese dressing?!? That’s just plain gross.
But I suppose a douche bag tastes pretty damned good washed down with Pabst Blue Ribbon. $7.99 a twelve pack who can argue with that?
Miss Heather
P.S.: I ordered the “Sandy-wich” which was (simply put) a vegan BLT. It wasn’t bad. That said, these guys have NOTHING on the Franklin Corner Store in good ol’ Greenpoint. Andre, his son, partners and Oreo know how to make a sandwich.
*Websters II New Riverside University University Dictionary, 1984
**Miss Heather
Bed-Stuy Photo du Jour: Next To Godliness
Filed under: Bed-Stuy
From Madison Street.
Miss Heather
Bed-Stuy Photo du Jour: The Truth Garage
Filed under: Bed-Stuy
From Gates Avenue.
Miss Heather
Bed-Stuy Photo du Jour: Bruce on Broadway
Filed under: Bed-Stuy
I have no idea whatsoever this organization does, but whatever it is I’m all for it!
Miss Heather
Bed-Stuy Photos du Jour: Nostrand Avenue
Filed under: Bed-Stuy
There is something profoundly wrong with this poster. Is it the fact this woman is smiling at you while gnawing on a chicken wing or is it the gargantuan size of the chicken wing itself? It’s hard to tell. In any case I’m too frightened to eat here.
This establishment just down the street is another story altogether. I’d love to see what the specialty of the house is.
Miss Heather
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