Across the Manhattan Bridge 3

Above: The Woolworth Building and Manhattan Municipal Building in the distance.


Above left, looking over the red building's other shoulder.  Above right, Henry St., with vertical signs lined up like teeth.


Above left, one of my favorite pictures of the red building.  Above right, looking down busy East Broadway.


Near the end of the bridge walkway, above left, the graceful curve of a highrise off Division; seeing the ropes makes me wonder how window washers feel about dangling a few hundred feet up against a curve.

And above right, heading uptown on Elizabeth St., the Chapel of San Calogero.  When I looked in the open doorway, there was a man sitting at a table in a small, worn vestibule, all of it looking like it's sat there unchanged since maybe 1910.  I will leave it to a real reporter to find out if the "chapel" is just what you see in the window, or a magnificent religious chamber (or social club?) beyond the vestibule.

Grate Fishing

I finally captured the elusive subway grate fisherman in the act yesterday across from Union Square; closeup of his tackle on the right.

Sarah the Barbarian

Sarah Palin, as Frank Rich points out so well today, has more testosterone than McCain and all his tired Swift Boat hacks put together, plus the unfounded confidence of 10 George Bush Juniors.

I look forward to a bright future (after nuclear winter clears up) as a member of her bloodthirsty clan.

[ Previously: Palin Seduces Moose ]

Welcome to My Neighborhood

If you love your neighborhood, the worst thing you can do is advertise it, because popularity will steamroll its quirks into the ground.  Unless you advertise it like this...

(Photo: Bernd & Hilla Becher)
Welcome to My Neighborhood!

It's got a lot of history.  In the archival photo above -- displayed in the neighborhood museum behind the counter at Cheesy's Cellphone Shoppe -- you can see its genesis as a planned, utopian community, zoned (back-to-front) for work, home and recreation.


One of the first things you'll notice when you arrive is the bird life, especially in the nature sanctuary / landfill just above Main Street.  Not only does the neighborhood support so many pigeons (above left) that guano collection has become a major industry, but the buzzards in the dead trees above the landfill have become a tourist attraction, and Main Street butchers offer scraps, above right, to appease the majestic birds.


My neighborhood takes tourism seriously.  Attractions include the Kids' Wastewater Plant Fun House pictured above left, the Kids' Trapeze Experience above right, and guided tours of local industry such as the Second Life Sorting Facility, below left, and the Gold Country Guano Collection Facility below right -- both free (so long as you pitch in and help out; face masks are provided for the whole family)!



If you feel like shopping, above left, or like taking in some of the public art installed by our vibrant creative community, above right, just leave the kids under the watchful eye of the Scarecrow Tree, below left, which local parents use to keep their kids in line:

"OK, do whatever you want.  Just don't come crying to me when the Scarecrow Tree breaks into your room tonight!"

Or let them play in front of the Fun Spewer, below right.  The fun part is, you never know when it's going to go off!


And after a full day of exciting activities like that, you're going to want fine dining and accommodations.  My neighborhood can deliver on that count too, as you can see below!  (Just don't expect a delivery after dark.)

Queensboro Bridge Revisited 1

I'm not sure why, but both entrances to Queens nearest me are visual wonderlands.  Here I make another visit to the Queensboro Bridge.

Wall Street Crash is Great News!

The crash may be bad news for Wall Street types and the people who serve them, like chauffeurs, sex workers, artists, etc.

But it's great news for me.  All the Wall Street workers will cancel their luxury condo plans and retreat to the hills of Connecticut, where they will break into the wine cellar and start guzzling investment grade vintage like it's Mad Dog 20/20, then break out their "survival gear" -- bulletproof vests with car alarms attached to the shoulders, chrome shotguns, barrels of pharmaceuticals, and a virtual U.N. of blow up sex dolls -- and wait till their testosterone level has climbed back into the red, then go outside and skeet shoot their investment grade Franklin Mint plate collection.

Once they and their money have left the city, it will be left to the rest of us, the sullen zombies who lurk in the shadows fighting pigeons for scraps.

All the new luxury hotels and condos in the Bowery will turn into fetid flophouses for down & out condo brokers, ranting dementedly about the amenities they used to offer: "Live chinchilla shoe buffer in the lobby!  Squawk!!  Fresh virgin's milk spa on the deck!  Eeep!  Creative Artists Agency screening room just off the lobby, which is not a reproduction, but the actual Palace of the Swiss Guards' Fighting Eunuchs XXV-Corps, purchased from the Vatican in 1942!  Squawk!!"


Meanwhile all the luxury condos going up in Williamsburg will be turned into chicken farms, recycling centers, and solar powered hydroponic farms.

This means people like me, whose hands are untainted by money and not afraid of real work (like typing this post) will finally be able to live like royalty.

I plan to move into Karl Fischer's Ikon, pictured on top, where the bottom floor of the ant farm will be my bowling alley and driving range.  I also plan to move into his NV building, pictured just above.  There's something about its "plastic castle" look that appeals to me; not only does it afford an easily defensible, crenelated roof line, but it's close to the East River, and "tap water" will soon be a memory, like "FDIC insurance" and "government."

How will I pay for food?  That's easy -- pretty soon employers in China, Russia and India will be outsourcing their jobs, and that $3 an hour will make me a king compared to envious neighbors outside my NV castle.  All I have to do is figure out how to stay alive till those jobs show up.

You know, I bet there's a ton of food in the basement of that 20 Bayard condo, above right, where all those well fed Top Chef contestants are holed up...