The Knicks had to draft Frederic Weiss instead of this walking hometown NYPost headline? Posted by Hello


The brilliant blue eye-girl with the double-stroller was on the train again this evening. They aren't contacts. She's lilly-white and the stroller occupants seem to be fathered by a black man. She gets some interesting hurtful look-aways and hisses from the other female passengers as she rides the last car on the downtown 4 on Friday evenings.

A couple of weeks ago, when I first noticed them, the boy was screaming so loud I began laughing. His screaming opened up the seats near them and I took full advantage.

When I thought maybe he was screaming because he had mental problems, I had a mind to stop laughing. But instead of straightening up, I laughed harder - watery-eyed. Mom started laughing also. Me and mom shared some weird universal understanding eye contact a few moments before when I tolerated her crazy kid's inexplicable screaming and didn't want to seem annoyed by the spectacle of her lunatic toddler. I was just laughing innocently at him for being a crazy little kid. I had to look away sheepishly after I started laughing because I though he was a little kid that was actually crazy. The other kid was a rather unattractive little sister to the crazy boy and little sister made Cabbage Patch kids look normal.

This time I noticed the woman and her wards as she rolled the double stroller down the platform towards the stairs at 125th Street. She looked around and circled the stroller around to approach the stairs back of the stroller first. I thought to myself, next Friday I'll get off and help her down the stairs.

Who'm I kidding?

A Lad o' the O'Friels by Seumas MacManus is at moments pure joy.

As such, it has on at least three occasions lifted me to a lofty perch of egghead reader euphoria far far above the hostility and anger surrounding me on the Bronx bound 4.

Unfortunately, my attempts to recapture this bookish bliss on my early eveing jaunts back to Manhattan are constantly thwarted by fried chicken flatulence, walkman-headed rap fans who choose to sing along aloud, and my quirky need to take in all the circus freaks for a different type of personal enjoyment.

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bad hats Posted by Hello

mo bad hats Posted by Hello

sorry no photos 

Tonight as I sat listening to Josey Wales growl about his cowboy style and modify his coffin order a mouse tip-toed out of the kitchen, seemed to see me, went back into the kitchen, came back out, did not seem to see me (maybe he just heard me at first and then got confused by the reggae bass). He eluded me as I turned to slip on my Israeli knockoff berkenstocks to stomp him.

Luckily he didn't notice the last lonely glue trap left under a bureau from my all out mousing wars. Interestingly enough, the sole remaining glue tray trap was one of the white ones I bought the very first time I saw a mouse. It had evaded the dust balls (have you ever heard them called dust rabbits?). The white traps didn't seem to be as effective as the dark ones, but this one did the job.

Months ago I smelled that familiar smell of dead mouse but when I checked my snares, I came up empty. The smell seemed to go away. Or maybe I got used to it. When, in a frenzy of checking for mouse poops to see if this guy had been around for a while I found out that the smell hadn't gone away and that I hadn't gotten used to it. Apparently I just hadn't opened this particular closet for months. I saw a tiny dried out stinky carcass that I had somehow missed when I smelled the phantom smell.

A very productive night for the mouser.

The closet smelled so much I opened it. Then I opened all my windows to the thunder of the taxis taking the drunk children of priviledge back to their Upper East Side post college dormitories after a Thursday evening on the town.

It is 2AM and the Korean pop fan nextdoor (who seems to have had himself a big Thursday night at the Jinro Mill) is blaring "Always and forever... I! will a-always! love you! Forever!" song. Who is that? De Barge? Cameo?

I gotta stay up anyway, and I don't mind a little loud music late at night, but this song is less acceptable thatn Asian Pop. At 6AM he will wake with me to a pleasant medley of Shine, Bounty Killer, and George Jones.

street soundbite 

"They 'onna offer me a job, so I'm 'onn' haffa see wassup. They company mergering..."


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subway notes 

The kids selling candy on the subway used to lie and claim to be raising funds to support a ghetto basketball leagues. Now they just say they want money to stay off the street and out of trouble.

The Monday morning mobs of Spanish ladies and homeboys clumsily passing out free newspapers outside the 4 train exit on 42nd and Lex is so thick you have to fight to get into the train. The rest of the week the crowd thins out.


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Coney Island Romulans Posted by Hello

After a long weekend, I got back into my apartment exhausted on Sunday night.

I suddenly remembered that several days before, I was invited to "go on the drink" with a Mancunian friend to celebrate his birthday. I felt bad about never getting back to him, so I composed a brief belated birthday greeting and sent it with my apologies via phone-text.

Two smarmy passive agressive replies worthy of a 13 year-old girl abandoned by her only friend the night of the school dance followed.

(1) "well thanks" at 10:43pm

(2) "like you were going to show anyway" at 1:09am

The needy schoolgirlesque texts just don't fit the tiresome bravado of his Northern working class machismo schtick.


I'm not the first to say this, but I have noticed alot of shiny new Boston hats since the World Series. This bothers me. These are not the prevalent Boston hats worn by Washington Heights residents or the grimy never washed hats that make Gabe Kapler's hat look brand new that are typically worn by goofy young self-righteous die0hard fan white guy types. These are the hats worn by the front runners who never cared about the team until they won and chose to leave their second rate New England hometowns and live in a real city for once in my life.

Why does this silly stuff bother me?

When I see these nonemotionally-invested New England transplants blatantly sporting B-caps in my city of birth, I feel wronged somehow.

My friend ran the marathon and didn't tell me. In fact he lied to me when I directly asked him if he was running. I could've stood on a corner somewhere for a few hours and waited to yell insults at him at his most vulnerable time. I feel ripped off.


I haven't seen NY1 since the king of late night Asian Pop music listening moved in next store and ordered cable, somehow disabling my Brighton Beach organizatziya box. If they're still doing New Yorker of the Week segments, they should focus less on do-gooders and more on local characters, like the guy who spends his evenings sweeping up cigarette butts on 9th Avenue between 39th and 40th.

I'll miss TJ Keane's.

"You be riding horses? You like horses? I ain't never rode no horses. What's it like to ride horses? You like horses? They go fast, horses? They be going fast, right?" said the aging prostitute to the John as her hand massaged the front of his pants.

seasonal indicator 

Traditionally the onset of the commercial Christmas season was signaled by ads for Child World toystore during WWOR's annual airing of Mighty Joe Young and Godzilla movies on Thanksgiving. Macy's whipped the kiddies into a consumer frenzy by sponsoring a parade of balloon cartoon characters followed by Santa in case anybody mistook the parade for a thanksgiving celebration.

Now the Holiday season is signaled by the arrival of red coffee cups at Starbucks.


Boston, as usual, got it wrong. They were supposed to lose in baseball and win the presidential election.


poll worker 

She was doing her best. She flipped the double-sided pages covered in six point font back and forth, but could not locate my address. She was NOT joking when tshe told me she was blind in one eye and couldn't see well out the other.

This country needs vibrant young competent adequately-sighted people to sign up as poll workers.

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