New York Governors Watch

What's happening with the New York Governors these days? Who cares? Well, here's a rundown, in case you do...

David Paterson is a lame duck. Since he decided not to run again for Governor, he's hasn't been in the news nearly as much.

Attorney General Andrew Cuomo, who hasn't announced that he's running but who I think will be our next Governor, has gone after Pedro (Yes, Pedro) Espada and his profiting-off-the-nonprofit ways. Pedro said something about the "political establishment" going after him as payback. Dude. You're Majority Leader. I think you ARE the political establishment. Anyway, Andrew still hasn't announced that he's running. And he never gives interviews. He's an oddball, this Andrew Cuomo.

Disgraced former Governor Elliot Spitzer is slowly but surely planning his comeback. He's a bit of a Wall Street expert, so he's turning up on TV here and there while financial reform is in the news. Unfortunately for him, it's going on at the same time that the prostitute he made famous is appearing in Playboy. No links. I'm sure you can find it if you want to.

The Governor before Spitzer, George Pataki, still seems to harbor higher office ambitions, and it's like no one's had the heart to tell him that not only do people outside of New York not give a shit about New York politicians (see: "Giuliani, Rudolph" for just the latest example), but that also Pataki has about as much charisma as that third cousin you've met a dozen times but still can't remember his name. Anyway, Pataki who has a reputation for being a moderate is drifting to the right these days. Which is appropriate: his combover too drifts to the right.

My personal favorite former Governor, Mario Cuomo, taught a Fox News reporter how to do his job today, demonstrating a piece of why he's my favorite former Governor. Do yourself a favor and read the exchange. God-DAMN, Mario is a very civil badass. Mario, I hope your son is as awesome as you are. Is he?

Shocking! Simply Shocking! Pass the Chips.

Once (probably more than once, actually) I called New York politics stupid. Another time, I called New York State Senator Martin Espada a Dickhead.

See, when I do that, Google Alerts informs some intern in Martin Espada's office that a ranty blogger with six readers is calling Martin names again. No one really cares.

Today's news, however, is slightly bigger than being named Dickhead by B&E. Someone with actual power (in this case Andrew Cuomo, New York's current Attorney General and, everyone assumes, New York's next governor) is suing Majority Leader Espada for funneling millions of dollars from his health care nonprofit toward his personal expenses. Dinner? The nonprofit will pay for that. Campaign expenses? Let the nonprofit take care of it. Family vacations to Vegas and Florida and Puerto Rico? Yeah, that's what nonprofits are for!

I mean, shit. The suit even alleges that Martin had a severance package ready for triggering that would give him $9 million and bankrupt the nonprofit.

Oh, Martin Espada... When you shut down the New York Senate for your own personal empowerment last year, you were a Dickhead, no doubt. And man, I sure can't wait to be able to call you Shitbird too.

Gosh, you're a loathsome creature.

UPDATE LATER: Please exchange the name Martin for Pedro throughout this post. There's a pretty big difference. Apologies to the poet Martin Espada, who wrote Alabanza. That'll teach me to write when I'm tired.

Disingenuous Much?

There's a new tax on the table for consideration in New York - a tax on sugary soft drinks. You know, the ones that are all really, really bad for you and are, probably more than anything, responsible for the obesity epidemic in America.

Like all states, New York's got a budget crisis. And let's face it: everyone's got a health crisis. All of that sugar, high-fructose corn syrup, and especially the fake sweetener is killing us. So yeah, I say tax the shit out of it. Anything that'll encourage people to drink something healthy instead, like, say, water, gets my support.

There are advertisements running in support of, and opposed to, the tax. I see the ones opposed more often, and I've seen two of them. The first was utterly unconvincing. It features the owner of a grocery store supposedly speaking on behalf of his customers who shop on budgets, and how this is "just another way for Albany to reach into our pockets."

I'm fortunate not to have to watch every penny while doing my grocery shopping, but the missus and I have a general budget for the food we buy. If I had only $20 to spend on my weekly groceries, why in the hell would I spend even $1.69 on a two-liter bottle of poison? If the tax dissuades me from buying it, I've got another $1.69 to spend on something that's better for me. I'm not going to pocket the $1.69. I'm almost certainly going to get something else, now that I've got an extra $1.69 in my groceries budget.

In other words, the shop owner will still be getting his money, so what's his fucking problem? (Hm... Smaller markup on healthy items? Maybe...)

The one I've been seeing more recently features a mother complaining about how much more money she'll be paying on soft drinks for her kids. Gee, lady, why don't you buy less of that garbage for the sake of your kids' health?

And of course, the American Beverage Association is the money behind the ads. Well, ABA, I'm not buying your shit any more than I'm buying that shit on the shelves.

Did My Eyes Deceive Me?

New Yorkers know well that the subway system hosts a whole lot of panhandlers. I'm not talking about people from, say, the panhandle of Florida. I'm talking about the people who sell, perform, or otherwise ask for cash on the trains.

When you do same commute every day (in my case, it's two different commutes, depending on circumstances), you get to see a lot of the same panhandlers. There's a dapper little violinist who, despite his playing ten hours a day, really doesn't know how to play the violin. There's a saxophonist I try to avoid on the F train. There are several mariachi combos on the 7 train. There are the kids who sell their candy, "not for basketball uniforms, but to earn a little money and keep me off the streets." There's often a blind dude at the 7 to F transfer.

During my evening commute this week, while walking down the steps to the 7 train, I noticed a dude who looked a bit down on his luck. The train was pulling into the station, and he scurried to the back car. I wandered into the second-to-last car and didn't give him another thought.

Until a seriously disabled panhandler staggered into our car. He was shaking from head-to-toe and could barely walk. He was hunched over and held tightly to the various handrails available for support. It was the same dude I saw walking down the stairs, except that this version of him would never had made it up or down the stairs.

He announced that he was going to take up the next ten or fifteen minutes of our time. This is unheard of. Most panhandlers do their thing and move on quickly.

I was listening to music, so I didn't catch everything the man said as he staggered up and down the car, very slowly, but he talked about injuries, mentioned something about 9/11, and offered to help anyone else in the car who might be hungry.

But it was the physicality that was truly remarkable. People get on and off the trains, of course, and over ten or fifteen minutes, you pull through approximately five to eight stops. One woman, wanting to catch the transfer across the platform, reached out to give him a dollar, couldn't get her money in his little bag (which he'd placed on the floor next to a handrail), and laid the bill next to it so she wouldn't miss her train. He worked desperately to bend, holding the rail for dear life, trying to get the bill until another rider grabbed the bill and put it in his bag for him.

This fella was so convincing in his physical performance that I began to question if he was really the same man I saw walking down the stairs at the station. Even now, thinking back, I don't feel so sure. His performance was that good, B&E readers.

He was doing pretty well for himself money-wise in my car, and he was still going on when I got off the train at my stop.

It was downright spooky. And impressive. Cirque du Soleil should totally hire him.

Then There's the Real Reason

Harold Ford isn't running for the U.S. Senate against Kirsten Gillibrand. He explains why in an op-ed piece in the New York Times, which has already given him a lot of press in recent weeks.

I've said before that I've got little opinion about our appointed Senator Gillibrand. She's moved to the left since being appointed by our Governor (who also isn't running - Jesus, I go out of town for a few days and return to Paterson in full meltdown mode), which I like, but truth be told, I just don't know that much about her.

Other people flirted with running against Kirsten. Carolyn Maloney, who represents me according to just about every online advocacy group even if I've never had the option of voting for her at the actual polls, was considering a primary challenge. I do like Rep. Maloney. She's usually a reliably progressive vote. I would've happily voted for her in a primary to Gillibrand.

Harold Ford lumps himself together with Carolyn Maloney in discussing the enormous pressure he received to not run from the party machine. And the lack of party support is one thing he cites in his op-ed about why he won't run.

What he doesn't mention, of course, is that he began campaigning in earnest before he made the official decision to run. And there's one striking absence from his list of reasons for not getting involved in the race.

New Yorkers, particularly potential Democratic primary voters, think he's an enormous asshole. Assholes have won plenty of elections, so assholery is not an inherent deal breaker. But he came off as an incompetent, petty, utterly uninteresting, non-resident asshole.

If we New Yorkers didn't hate Harold Ford, he'd totally run. And he is lying by omission in his op-ed.

Won't You Take Me To... SEPIATOWN??

Those of my six readers who also click on the links to the right (so, then, none of you) may be wondering why Virgil's been so quiet these past couple of years. It turns out there's a simple explanation for why he's been denying so many of us bite-sized nibbles of his that nubile mind of his.

It's called SepiaTown, and it's been a massive undertaking that he launched this past weekend.

Its scope is limited primarily to a few cities right now, but the idea is that eventually, anyone can see what their current location looked like in the days of yore. "Gee, I'm standing at the corner of East 9th Street and Broadway. I wonder what it looked like in 1910." Well, it looked like this.

SepiaTown is a "wiki," B&E readers, which means it relies on user-generated content. If you have old photos, go put them in there. If you know people with access to old photos, tell them to put them in there. The more people that get involved, the cooler the site becomes.

As one buddy said, Virgil has gone and "built a goddamned time machine."

That Shit Was Already Expensive

So this New York councilman has been indicted on corruption charges, and one little detail is getting a lot of attention.

Bronx councilman Larry Seabrook apparently doctored a receipt for a bagel and soda, so that instead of the original $7, it cost $177.

I've bought my share of bagels over the years, and I tell you what: I'm just as shocked by the $7 receipt as I am by the $177 doctoring of the receipt.

Even if he got a fancy shmear, that bagel shouldn't have been more than $3 (and indeed should have been closer to $2). And let's assume that he ran up the bill with a two-liter bottle of soda, rather than the 12 oz. can or 20 oz. bottle that most unhealthy people drink. Being really liberal with prices, the whole thing shouldn't have been even $6.

Councilman, you need to find yourself a better bagelry. You're being overcharged.

She Looks Good

And nothing makes Kirsten Gillibrand look better to me than the continued horseshit coming from Harold Ford. Seriously, that guy is loathsome. Go fuck off, Harold, preferably in a state where you've paid taxes.

We're a Nation of Snow Pussies

I've been a little under the weather this week (See how I took the snow theme and turned it? That's just the sort of quality writing you've come to expect here at B&E!), so I've been working from home.

This morning I woke up feeling a bit better, but because last night the local news outlets were freaking out about the Blizzard of 2010, I opted to work from home again today, as did many of my fine colleagues.

I finally got a chance for a quick walk right around 5:00 PM.

Don't get me wrong: it was a good snow. It was not, however, a blizzard. Why the hell do we get so fucking crazy about a little snow? Was it seriously that big a deal?

Anyway, the city looks nice during a snow.


I love a Smart Car! Look at the Smart Car in the snow! I have to admit that it looks less Smart!


If you need to rest, take a load off on this snow sofa!


And our neighbors made a snowman! Right outside one of my favorite facades in Sunnyside!


Anyway, it was a fun snow.

Things are Fishy on Staten Island

And I don't just mean the stench of the Fresh Kills Landfill!

Today is Groundhog Day (insert movie reference here). I watched the live coverage of Staten Island Chuck on NY1 this morning. Long-time B&E readers may remember previous mentions of Staten Island Chuck. He's New York's answer to Punxsutawney Phil, the notorious weather-predicting groundhog of Pennsylvania.

NY1 reports that in the past 29 February 2nds, Staten Island Chuck has been right 22 times, giving Chuck a better record than Phil over the same period.

Well, I had some observations of today's live coverage that makes me think the whole thing is rigged somehow.

First of all, on a separate but related matter, Staten Island Chuck might be a real dick. Last year he took a chunk out of Mayor Bloomberg's finger. This year Mayor Mike wore super-thick work gloves that I think were made of dragon hide.

Anyway, they tried to lure Chuck out, and we (the TV audience) waited. We waited quite some time. That groundhog wouldn't fucking come out. Finally, some brave mayoral aide (without gloves) reached into Chuck's little hut and yanked him out, handing him to the mayor, who nearly dropped him.

Chuck got fat.

And I'm sorry, but Mayor Mike didn't confer with Staten Island Chuck at all before announcing that Chuck didn't see his shadow.

Anyone watching could tell you that Chuck didn't want to come out of his hovel because he saw nothing BUT shadow. He was freaked the fuck out. And fat.

Meanwhile, in Punxsutawney, Phil saw his shadow. I didn't watch any live coverage, but Phil looked svelte (possibly starved, if you believe PETA, who would prefer that Phil be a robot), and a dude with a funny hat and Rollie Fingers mustache listened carefully to what Phil had to say.

I think I figured out what's going on. In Punxsutawney, they genuinely listen to what Phil has to say about the weather. He sees his shadow; he doesn't see his shadow. They trust Phil.

Staten Island is the most suspect of the five boroughs of New York City. Even people who live there don't really know what goes on there. I don't know if the whole Staten Island Chuck experience is bankrolled by the mob or what, but I have a feeling that the weather prediction is more about the number-runners and money-changers than the goddamned weather.

And it wouldn't surprise me one bit if somehow Mayor Mike is in on the fix. I don't know if he's consulting Poor Richard's Almanack or what, but I do know that he didn't bother to consult with that fat, angry groundhog.

It's suspect, B&E readers. It's fucking suspect.

It's a Giant Toy Train Set! Made of Plants!

The missus and I took a trip to the New York Botanical Garden last weekend. Somehow we'd never been. I've been wanting to go see the annual Holiday Train Show for years, and we finally got our act together and got tickets for the final weekend.

There are a lot of families at the Botanical Garden. Especially unhappy ones, it seems. On a tram tour of the garden, we were joined in our row by a man with an empty stroller. He spent a whole lot of time yelling at his wife and kids, who were in another tram car. He was ordering them to sit down, commanding his wife to get control. He was a seriously miserable bastard. But that's okay because he was making up for it by causing misery in the whole family.

Even so, it was worth the crowds and the misery to check out the cityscape and toy trains. The cityscape is made completely of vegetation. It's wacky. And awesome.

And I bet you know what that means for you, B&E readers! That's right: PHOTOS!

This is a real train! In Queens!

Pretty, right?

This is a toy train! In the Bronx!

Cute, right?

Here are some skyscrapers! Based on the ones in midtown!

Cool, right?

This is a mini Yankee Stadium! Like the one in the Bronx!

Where the fuck are the Mets, right?

This is the Brooklyn Bridge! Brooklyn Bridge! Brooklyn Bridge!

Brooklyn Bridge, right?

This is the Guggenheim! From Men in Black! And The International!

Frank Lloyd, Wright?

Gosh, it was all very impressive! We may even go back again next year! Good idea, right?

Harold Ford Can Suck It

Like most New Yorkers I don't have much of an opinion of Kirsten Gillibrand, our appointed Senator. But after reading this interview with Harold Ford, who's making strange noises about running against her in the primary, I'm starting to like her a lot more.

Seriously, dude. There are so many things wrong with your pompous answers to these questions, I'm not sure you should hold any job in New York...

You've been to all five boroughs by fucking helicopter?
You're like totally best friends with the Giants owner?
You totally scored a lunch with the Jets owner?
You're buying into a corporate box at Yankee Stadium?
You take a fucking cab to work every day?
Oh, except for most days, when NBC sends a car to get you?
Is there an issue you haven't flipped on since coming to NYC?
And...
You don't shoot children??

Harold, dude... What the fuck is wrong with you?

Dickhead of the (Time Frame) - NY State Senate

I've always been proud to live in New York - the gayest city in the gayest state in the gayest country in the gayest world. OK, so maybe we're second to Des Moines.

Either way, like most left-leaning New Yorkers, I find today's vote by the New York State Senate to deny marriage to same-sex couples bass-ackwards and offensive.

The New York State Senate has really been on a roll lately, particularly efficient at accomplishing almost nothing, unless it's destructive. They're like the bastard child of the United States Senate, which is particularly efficient at accomplishing almost nothing, unless it's destructive.

If there are any Queens activists out there who are angry enough to want to put up a challenge in the primary to our Dickhead State Senator George Onorato, I promise you'll get my support.

I never thought that I'd want to be from Staten Island, but I wish this woman was my Senator...

The Crowds Should Fall Into Disrepair

The missus and I finally got to the High Line this weekend. For those of you who don't know, the High Line is an elevated rail track that runs from the meatpacking district in the West Village to about 34th Street in West Midtown. The history is pretty interesting, and you should read about it on their website.

So now it's a park. Or a kind of park. It's a walk way with benches, native grasses, and lovely architectural details.

The railroad used to go right into that building!

They've done a tremendous job with it. The plant life is beautiful and the design of the whole thing is very tastefully done. There's even a seating area, if you want to watch the traffic fly up 10th Avenue!

It really does feel like an urban oasis.

Only one problem: people. I accept some responsibility for choosing to go to the High Line on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon. But I'm not even talking about the massive throngs of people, so much as the type of person.

It was scene-y. People were there to look good and be seen. The obvious money on these people was palpable. It was kind of a turnoff. And it reminded me why I so love Queens and so don't love Manhattan.

I wonder if it's a top-down problem. The High Line recently had some "Are you fucking kidding me?" type of press, when word got out that the Executive Director of the Friends of the High Line gets paid a quarter of a million dollars. That's really a lot for a nonprofit job.

Obviously, an investment in talent can be a good investment for nonprofits, so I'm not going to bad-mouth the High Line on his salary alone. But you better believe that small donors don't necessarily want to think that their $25 is just going to pay some rich bastard his salary. I need that $25 worse than the High Line's E.D.

Anyway, I wonder if there's a connection between the outlandish salary of the High Line E.D. and the hipster, monied crowd of the High Line itself.

But there were some funny people, too. I enjoyed watching this woman direct her husband on taking photos of the details of this particular bench.


So yeah... Great urban park... Too bad about the fashionistas.

Vote in today's Primary!

New York's got a primary today, and there are a lot of local candidates to choose from. For a lot of seats (I know it's true for my neighborhood), the primary is the election that matters. So get out there and vote!

I love voting.

You know who I like this year? Jimmy Van Bramer. He's in a three-way race for my city council seat, and I tell you what: he is busting his ass out there. I finally actually saw one of his competitors at my subway stop yesterday, but I've seen Jimmy a few times. He's working hard for this, and I like his determination. He's also got a bunch of really passionate volunteers. I also like that he's worked within the Queens library system, the most used library system in the country.

Go Jimmy! I'm pulling for you!

Other B&E endorsements include Tony Avella for Mayor (over Bill Thompson), Mark Green for Public Advocate (Eric "Where There's a Camera There's a" Gioia didn't quite present the vision I was hoping for), John Liu for Comptroller, and Marc Leavitt for Queens Borough President (another candidate I've actually seen pounding the pavement).

Get out there and vote, B&E readers!

Ease Up, Dude

It seems like almost every day I'm getting yet another flyer in my mailbox from Mayor Mike Bloomberg, asking for my vote for his reelection.

I'll back up just a little bit for any non-New York readers. New York City has term limits. The people of New York voted twice in favor of limiting time in office to two terms. I've got mixed feelings about term limits, and honestly I don't remember which way I ended up voting on the issue. But the people of New York have spoken. Twice.

Earlier this year (maybe it was even last fall), Bloomberg wheeled and dealed and convinced the City Council to extend term limits. Everyone who would've had to leave office can now serve another term. Including Mayor Mike.

So Mayor Mike is running like hell for mayor. The #17 on the Forbes' richest people list is putting some of his personal fortune into his campaign, just like he always has. It is formidable wealth.

His ads are everywhere - on TV, online, in print. The direct mail pieces arrive regularly.

Bloomberg has been a pretty popular mayor, although there's the whiff of discontent among the masses for the first time. Now, months after the fact, people seem to be like, "He can just buy a third term like that?"

And here's where the problem lies: Most New Yorkers probably can't name his opponent. I can (it's Bill Thompson), but I can't tell you much about poor Bill, except that every time I've seen him on the news, he's attacking Mayor Mike. He has no personal fortune, and I suspect he's hoping that his attacks will get him free publicity at least.

I've never been the biggest Mayor Mike fan. I've written here in the past about how there are things I admire about him (his long-term vision for a green New York) and things I don't (his massive donations to Bush's reelection and "business first" attitude). But I've never voted for him (although I considered it last time, being severely underwhelmed by Jose Ferrer).

I won't vote for him this time either. And no amount of advertising will convince me otherwise. A friend told me that he wishes Bloomberg would save his money because he's voting for him anyway. So no amount of advertising will convince him either.

And, in fact, that same friend said that the more mail he gets from Mayor Mike the less likely he is to vote for him.

The Mayor is also quite the philanthropist. Few people give more money to charity than Mayor Mike. That's a much better way to spend your fortune, Mr. Mayor. And for someone so pursuant of a "green" city, all this paper and printing is really off-message.

This argument that Mayor Mike's not paid for by special interests or beholden to a party. OK, that's true, sort of. But the guy is a freakin' billionaire. He is his own special interest.

I just can't vote for a one-man special interest. But I suspect we're stuck with him for another three years. We find out in less than five months.

Dickhead Rewarded

The stupid stupidheads that call themselves the New York State Senate have finally resolved their stupid stupidness.

The winner is... Dickhead Martin Espada!

Espada and Hiram Monserrate were the original defectors, with Monserrate almost immediately returning back to the Democrats to create the stalemate. Thirty-one days later, the Democrats reclaim power, with Espada also returning to the Democrats.

And imagine that! All it took was to name Pedro Espada the Majority Leader. So as long as we're without a Lieutenant Governor, this guy is second in line to be Governor!

On NY1 this morning, they were showing a clip of the actual transfer of power from previous Majority Leader Malcolm Smith to Espada. Smith introduced the new leader, and while the many stupid senators applaud, Espada stands, buttons up his sharp suit jacket, and has the single smuggest, most self-satisfied look I've ever seen on a face.

NY1 then followed that clip with a clip from the news conference announcing his return to the Democrats, during which Espada said something like, "It's never been about power; it's been about empowerment."

His own personal empowerment, apparently. This guy is truly loathsome.

It Was Over Before Screech Could Yell, "Moo Goo Gai Pan."

As Curt (Bald Bro), if that is indeed his name, points out in the comments of a previous posting, you really do need to have a sense of humor if you're going to pay attention to the New York Senate these days.

Over the holiday weekend, Governor Paterson called for special sessions, so that the little bitches who call themselves New York Senators can work out a goddamn deal and begin to take care of the people's business again. Sunday's session lasted three minutes. Three fucking minutes. Let's see... What else can you do in three minutes?

- Transfer at Grand Central from the 7 train to the 4/5 train.
- Listen to "More" by The Sundays.
- Let your French press steep (if you're the missus - I prefer the full five).
- Get rid of the Jehovah's Witnesses at your door.
- Enjoy a nice daydream.
- Read this post (even if you read slowly).
- Have sex to completion (if you're an anxious teenager who suffers from premature ejaculation).

All of those things are far more productive, useful, and successful than our New York Senate.

Not that I usually condone fishing for comments, but feel free to tell me what you can do in three minutes, thereby making you more productive than the New York Senate.

[Oh, and you all have my lesbian ex-girlfriend to thank for the title, as she posted a link to this "Celebrity Shtup" from Heeb Magazine. Please be forewarned: It is not for the faint of heart. Or children. Or mothers. At least not my mother. Mother, please don't read it. Although it too will take you less than three minutes.]

Give Me Choice, or... God Knows I'll Live With It

When Hillary Clinton was named Secretary of State, we had an open Senate seat here in New York. The people of New York had been feeling pretty good about our new-ish Governor Paterson up until this point, but many of us were turned off by how he handled naming her successor.

We ended up with Kirsten Gillibrand, a Congresswoman from upstate, who had the reputation being relatively conservative. I still don't know much about her, except that she's shifted a little to the left in some of her positions since becoming Senator from a state that trends a little more liberal than her district in Congress.

Still, she was appointed not elected, and those of us who are fans of democracy bristle at this simple fact.

Because law requires Gillibrand to run for election in the next cycle (in this case 2010), a few New York politicos were considering a run against her in the primary. But the White House talked all of them out of it.

Except Carolyn Maloney. And the Democratic Party machine isn't terribly happy with her.

Long-time readers might recall that I've had some questions about who actually represents my apartment in Congress. I've only ever voted for Joseph Crowley, but I get mail from Carolyn Maloney, and most Political Action Committees seem to think that my zip code+4 puts me in her district.

Maloney is a pretty reliable liberal. I'm a fan. I still know very little about Kirsten Gillibrand.

But if not for the New York State law giving the authority to fill an empty seat to the governor instead of the people, we'd have had a robust Democratic primary to fill Hillary's seat. I want a robust primary.

It's a democracy, man. Run, Maloney! Run!

Our Stupid Senate

I kinda want to just ignore these stupid New York Senators, but they're behaving so stupidly that I need to call them stupid.

Governor Paterson is making them come into the stupid chamber by calling special (and stupid) sessions, which require their stupid presence.

Yesterday, the stupid Democratic Senators sneaked through a back door and locked themselves in the chamber. They weren't even stupidly creating a stupid metaphor to vote on the gay marriage bill. The stupid Republican Senators couldn't get in for a while, and once they did, the stupid parties held dueling sessions, neither of which weren't stupid.

So then today, the stupids stupided the stupidheads and stupidly stupided the stupids. As if that weren't stupid enough, they stupided the stupid stupids. And before long, stupid was as stupid does, and the stupids left the stupid, having stupidly stupided stupid. All for the sake of stupid.

Fucking stupid.

I Think We Need That Dog Whisperer

We still don't have a functional Senate in New York (we don't have one in the federal government either, but for totally different reasons - zang! zzp-POW! wocka-wocka-wocka!) because a judge refused to a) condone the Republican takeover, or b) reject the Republican takeover.

Instead, he was all, "Yo, jackasses. Go across the fucking street, stop being little bitches, and work this shit out."

While I can understand the sentiment (and perhaps if I had any knowledge of the law I could also understand the legal argument), I'm not sure that the Honorable Thomas J. McNamara quite understands what we're dealing with here. This is, after all, the most corrupt bunch of power hungry fucking idiots this world has ever seen.

Or perhaps the judge understands completely and realizes that getting in the middle of the wrestling match with this bunch of clowns will only end with His Honor getting a massive a pie in the face. (Thanks again to Titivil for inspiring the clown imagery w/r/t our State Senate.)

Either way, New York still has no Senate. The Republicans show up in the chamber with their 31 seats, one seat shy of a quorum, i.e. no business can get done. The Democrats stay home with their 31 seats, celebrating individual quorums in their living rooms while watching reruns of The King of Queens and wonder how it is that Kevin James keeps getting himself into such wacky pickles. (Is that what happens on that show? I can't say I've ever seen an entire episode.)

And yet, life goes on as normal for the rest of us in NYC. I realize of course that eventually no Senate will have real repercussions (City budgets won't get approved, Bloomberg can't be named school czar, gays can't continue to be considered second-class citizens).

But for now, to put into new words a sentiment my dad used to express quite often, these utter Dickheads totally deserve each other.

Our Local Politics is Dumber Than Yours

On Monday, a couple of Democrats in the New York State Senate defected (somehow without switching parties), giving the Republicans control of the chamber once again.

I tend not to follow our state politics terribly closely because, every time I do, I start breaking out in hives. Everything is shrouded in secrecy, and things only get done through back-room deals. People have been wondering for a while what ever happened to the mob. I think they're in the New York State Senate and Assembly.

Who were the Democrats that defected? Pedro Espada from the Bronx is being investigated for ethics violations. Hiram Monserrate from Queens is under indictment for cutting his girlfriend's face with a cocktail glass.

My hunch is that some snappy descriptor like those could be used to describe just about everyone in Albany's government.

So the whole thing is silly. Very silly. It's almost like nothing of any significance is happening in New York. Of course, nothing of significance seemed to be getting done before either. Still. It's all very silly.

Which is why I like this particular coverage of events over at Titivil. Thank you, good sir.

Digital Detox - Round 3 to... Hey! It's Bela Fleck!

Rest of the evenings and mornings were totally fine without the TV and internet. Those guys are a bunch of jerks.

But of course it's Saturday, and I'm blogging, so I guess I just ended my Digital Detox, especially since a few minutes ago I tried in vain to find out when the Mets ticket office opens out at New Shea.

So, where was I?

Right, the rest of the Digital Detox. Well, the missus totally bailed on me. I came home late from work one evening to America's Next Top Model on TV. I tell you what: even three seconds of Tyra Banks is no way to break a Digital Detox!

Anyway, we ate dinner with the TV off, but then the missus wanted to see which of those skinny bitties was getting chucked off the show. So I listened to music in the bedroom and read my book.

Right, so my book... I haven't actually read any fiction in quite some time. I've found it difficult to sit down and get absorbed into fiction. It's like my brain can't focus long enough. Or maybe it's just that when I've been trying I've been reading total crap.

So what do I pick up to read? Underworld by Don DeLillo. This thing is like 12,000 pages long. I'm also loving it. It's great getting lost in fiction again. But I'll be reading that for the next seven or eight years. So that's nice.

But yesterday, via The Nation on Facebook (see, the Digital Detox was really just more digital toxicity while at work), I got the missus and me some free tickets to Throw Down Your Heart, a swell little documentary about Bela Fleck's journey tracing the roots of the banjo back to Africa and playing a whole lot of swell music with amazing musicians there.

The best little bit was that Bela (and his brother the documentary director) did a Q&A after, and then Bela played a live tune for us all. I think this Bela Fleck character knows a thing or two about the banjo.

Those little free things in New York can really remind you why it's awesome here.

How Fucking Awesome Is Vermont?

Today, Vermont legalized gay marriage. It's a little hard to believe that the Socialist Republic of Vermont was actually behind Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Iowa (Iowa??) when it comes to equal rights for the LGBT crowd, but there's an important difference between Vermont and those other states.

Vermont's legislative branch made it happen.

In all the other states, it's taken a judge to look at the Constitution and see, why yes, discriminating against someone based on sexual orientation goes against, well, just about everything that the US Constitution stands for. Then the right starts shouting their accusations of "activist" judges, when really the judges are just doing their jobs.

But in Vermont, it's a different story. The state senate and legislature voted in favor of gay marriage. The Republican governor vetoed it. How the hell did Vermont get a Republican governor? Well, he ran against three people on the left who split each others' votes.

To override a veto in Vermont, it takes a two-thirds majority. The Senate overrode that shit soundly, 23-5. In the legislature, it was a squeaker, 100-49 - exactly what was needed and no more.

And now gays can marry in Vermont. No courts, just a equal-minded state government, governor notwithstanding.

Well done, Vermont, you Green Mountain living hippies.

So what the hell is wrong with New York that we're getting out-gayed and out-pinkoed? Next thing we know we'll be getting out-abortioned!

Too Close To Call

So we New Yorkers (really, those New Yorkers) had a special election to fill the House seat vacated by our new Senator, Kristin Gillibrand (or is it Kirsten?).

It's a mostly Republican district, but a lot of New York Republicans aren't exactly Sarah Palin/Rush Limbaugh/right-wing Republicans. Of course, that also means that the Democrats aren't exactly Dennis Kucinich/Michael Moore/left-wing Democrats.

But an unknown Democrat called Scott Murphy has found himself 65 votes ahead of Republican Jim Tedisco, largely because he kept to the mantra, "I support the stimulus package, and my opponent doesn't, or he won't say if he does or doesn't, and isn't that suspicious."

Still, the race is too close to call, with several thousand absentee ballots left to count.

Although the Republican Party seems determined to keep the Minnesota Senate race between Al Franken (who's won) and Norm Coleman (who hasn't) going for "years" (according to Senator Jim Cornyn of Texas, the head of the NRSC, which is the National Republican Senate Committee - I think - and they're bankrolling the court case), and even though this one too will likely end up in court, it should be resolved in weeks, not months or years.

This race, by the way, is also an unofficial test for the leadership of new Republican National Committee chairman Michael Steele who, so far, has largely just been making an ass of himself. This is a Republican district, and the Republicans are struggling like hell to win it. Doesn't bode well, Man of Steele.

Nothing To See Here Folks, But...

If you're desperate for a little hot B&E action on a Sunday (on a Sunday? Really?), check out my guest post on the Artsy Fartsy Tim blog instead.

You (all six of you B&E readers) should check out Tim's blog regularly. He talks art and shows art, sometimes discusses politics, and he's rather obsessed with kiwis. Not the fruity kind, but the land-based bird with the long, pointy beak. What's not to like?

Trouble During the Sabbath

A curious thing happened on the way home from another delicious meal at the missus and my favorite local haunt...

A hefty fellow wearing a yarmulke was seated seemingly comfortably in the middle of a crosswalk on a small residential intersection. It had rained a little, so his ass must've been getting wet.

Nearby, a younger fellow, also in a yarmulke, stood between the man and the random turning vehicle.

Also, a group of about a half dozen concerned women wearing hijabs (and a few children) stood around the man, making casual conversation.

Concerned Woman in Hijab 1: You should get up.

Man on Ass: It's the Sabbath, and I can't make a call, so I guess I'll just hope that a policeman comes along.

Woman in Hijab 2: But you can't just sit here.

The situation was clearly under control, so the missus and I kept walking.

I love New York.

The Nostalgia Train

Chalk this one up under "Another Reason New York City Totally Rules"...

The missus and I attended brunch yesterday at a trendy location on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, a borough some people think is great.

As we were transferring from our local #7 train to the downtown B/D/F/V options, the Nostalgia Train pulled into the station. I remembered hearing about this special MTA event on the ever-reliable NY1. It's so rare that you hear good things about the MTA on the news that, when you do, the reports really stand out.

Classic subway cars, B&E readers! We rode in a 1930s number with uncomfortable seats (although the lumbar support was surprisingly solid) that was in service until the 1970s. I wasn't in NYC in the 1970s, so it was all new to me.

The MTA has the Nostalgia Train all decked out in classic subway ads, and even the locals look like tourists riding this thing: cameras (or cellphone cameras) out, smiles across the board, and interactions with strangers.

The MTA conductors seemed to be having a good time, and at least one obvious train enthusiast (no MTA identification and wearing a classic engineer's cap) was making platform announcements to let everyone know that it was running along the V line from Queens Plaza to 2nd Avenue. (Unfortunately I didn't have my camera with me.)

So if you're in New York City on either of the next two Sundays, I recommend finding your way to the V train and keeping an eye out for the Nostalgia Train.

It'll be one of the few times that the MTA makes you happy.

This morning, of course, the MTA followed up the Nostalgia Train experience with a really shitty commute. Well done.

Reason #89 to Avoid Nightclubs

I never go to nightclubs in New York City. I have many reasons for avoiding them. A few at the top include the following:

- I don't much care for dancing.
- I tend to dislike crowds.
- I'm just not that into ecstasy and crystal meth.

There are other, smaller reasons as well:

- The bouncer probably wouldn't let me in.
- The pumping techno gives me headaches.
- Slutty, sweaty crowds are a Petri dish for syphilis.

So those are really just tip-of-the-iceberg reasons I avoid nightclubs. But thanks to Plaxico Burress, wide receiver of the New York Giants, I've got one more to add to the list...

I don't want to shoot myself in the leg.

I'm not sure that this is required behavior at a Manhattan hot spot, but I'm not taking any chances.

Bloomberg Gets Extended Term Limits, No News on Lips

The City Council cleared Bloomberg to run for a third term, even though I seem to remember NYC voting twice to limit terms in office to two.

I don't have strong feelings about term limits, but I'm pretty sure I voted against them. If my representative is doing a good job, I don't have a problem with that person running for office again. In theory, an election can serve as a limit on terms.

Sure, I see the other argument, too: fresh blood, more about doing the work than saving the job, etc.

But no, I don't like that it was our City Council that decided to extend the term limits. Not one bit. Fifty-one council members overturned two referendums voted on by millions. Hell, man, I'd probably vote to extend term limits, but you didn't even give me a fucking chance.

For the record, my council member, Eric "Where There's a Camera There's a" Gioia, voted against extending term limits. Surprisingly, I haven't yet seen him on TV discussing his vote. I wonder if he's moved off of NY1 and onto the major networks.

Irony?

New York is, in the vernacular of the media, a blue state. New York City is like a navy blue Sharpie stain on the blue state. We're a bunch of queer-loving abortionists who'd hug trees if we had any worth hugging. (Like our models, our trees are so skinny you're afraid you might break them with a good squeeze.)

So imagine my surprise when I saw a young man walking down the street wearing a McCain-Palin cap. My instincts said, "Tourist!" But he and his wife (or girlfriend or transgendered partner) were carrying groceries, an activity that screams, "Local!"

Now, had I been in Williamsburg, I'd have naturally assumed it was irony, sort of like those bushy mustaches that the Great Unwashed wear.

But alas, I was on the Upper East Side, a neighborhood not known for its irony or socialism.

In other words, I found the man who clearly possesses the biggest balls in New York.

Bloomberg Seeks Third Term, Lips

Apparently, Mayor Mike Bloomberg, a.k.a. Mayor Mike, a.k.a. Bloomby, wants to serve a third term. Here in New York City, we've got ourselves some term limits, so technically this is against the rules. So he's gunning to change the rules.

I've got mixed feelings on the matter. I'm fairly certain that I've never voted for Mayor Mike (I can't actually remember who I voted for during his re-election - Ferrer? Would I do that? - so maybe I did vote for Bloomby).

Overall, I don't think Mayor Mike has been a bad mayor at all. I like his environmental vision for the City. Even if the congestion pricing thing didn't work out, I'm thrilled he tried and hasn't given up. He's a bit pro-business for my tastes, and I'm not convinced his approach to education is the right one, but I desperately hope it is, for the sake of the public school kids.

But there is one thing I like tremendously about this whole third term thing...

Remember Rudy Giuliani? America's Mayor? Noun, verb, 9/11? He was all heroic and brave and calming and blahdiblah during the days following September 11, 2001? And then he did what all New Yorkers expected and became a Dickhead again. We didn't actually know how the Dickheadedness would manifest itself; we just knew he'd return to Dickheadness. Rudy declared himself to be Mayor-For-Life or something equivalent, despite that Mayor Mike had already been elected to replace him.

Well, at no point was a third term seriously considered for Rudy. And yet for Mayor Mike, the powers-that-be are looking into it. So that's a nice little "fuck you" to Rudy, and I like any opportunity to give a fond "fuck you" to Rudy.

Oh, and Mayor Mike has no lips.

Tourists Stink

With my outer-borough lifestyle (living in Queens, working in Brooklyn), I'm not one of those New Yorkers that gets annoyed at the tourists. In fact, I'm fairly convinced that it's because of rich foreigners that New York hasn't seen the brunt of the recession the rest of the country feels (and that we'll now feel with the tanking of Wall Street).

So tourists? No, I don't think they stink in the "stop staring upward and keep moving along the sidewalk" way.

I mean they literally stink.

I cross paths with the tourists nearly every evening on my walk across the Brooklyn Bridge to get the subway home. And those hot, summer walks... well, let's just say that most of the people I walked by gave off the distinct aroma of someone who's been in the hot sun all day.

This body odor thing was something I thought would taper off as the weather cooled, but yesterday evening I noticed more nuance to the stank.

First of all the BO persists. And I'm smelling my own armpits up close, so I'm fairly certain it's not me. It's certain sweaty men (mostly, but not solely men) who are overdressed or somehow unprepared for the hot weather. That, or they just don't believe in deodorant, showers, or both.

Secondly, there's nothing Brooklyn Bridge walkers appreciate more than a tasty cigarette while strolling. Now, in fairness, some of these smokers could be locals. But I walk the Bridge a lot, and there's a big difference between the commuters and the tourists. Largely, the smokers are tourists. You might be surprised to hear that they're often French.

Finally, today, a new phenomenon. I don't know if it was because there was less breeze today or what, but the perfume was so stinky from a half dozen or so different ladies that it was almost deafening.

So tourists, a modest proposal... Come to New York and use your hotel showers. Spend your money at a Duane Reade and get yourselves some deodorant. If you're not used to deodorant, the Tom's of Maine brand is quite mild and comes in delicious flavors.

And ease up on the eau de toilette, eh?

A Case I Wish I'd Sat On

It was probably more than ten years ago that I served jury duty in Manhattan's criminal courts. The case featured an alleged drug dealer and quantities of cocaine we weren't able to hear about yet. I got as far as sitting in the jury box, answering the list of questions for the prosecution and defense attorneys.

I was eventually dismissed for what I assumed was one of two reasons:

1) The defense attorney didn't like me because I had an uncle who headed up a SWAT team.

2) The prosecutor didn't like me because I went to an exceptionally liberal, soft-on-crime sort of college.

The judge in the case was a fella by the name of Edwin Torres. He spent the Q&A portion of jury selection pacing behind his desk. I liked him a lot. He was no nonsense, funny, and totally badass.

When the lawyers attempted to ask us questions that spoke in circles around some delicate issues, they were tartly translated by Judge Torres.

Regarding the prosecutor's question: "What he's asking in his roundabout way is whether or not you hate cops. Correct?"

Regarding the defense attorney's question: "He wants to know if you're racist. Is that right?"

Both lawyers meekly responded, "Yes, thank you, your honor."

After I was dismissed from the jury box, I learned that Judge Torres was also the author of Carlito's Way. Busy judge. And again, total badass.

So it was with pleasure that I saw this little feature in the New York Times, discussing now-retired Judge Torres's latest screenplay.

Man, I really wish I'd sat on that jury. That guy is amazing.

A Strangely Large Number of Rocks

I had a dream this morning that I was somehow swept away in Mayor Mike Bloomberg's entourage. He was on his way to throw out the first pitch at the Yankees game, and he and his security detail were clad in Yankees jackets.

So there I was, standing on the grass at Yankee Stadium during the "Star Spangled Banner." It felt pretty cool, I have to admit.

But the field wasn't in very good condition. The grass was frayed along the edges and in the dirt was full of gravel. Yankee Stadium was a glorified sandlot.

And I was totally wearing my Mets cap.

Dude, I Gotta Pay More for Yankee Stadium?

The New York baseball teams' new stadiums open in 2009.

Admittedly, I don't know a lot about the financial terms of either stadium. But considering that team owners and Major League Baseball generally bully cities into publicly financing the bulk of these private enterprises, I'm sure that the Mets and Yankees are getting some sweet deals from New York City, particularly in the development of the neighborhoods surrounding the stadiums (eminent domain!).

Earlier this week, the Yankees asked for another $350-400 million in tax-exempt public bonds:

About $941 million in tax-exempt public bonds have already been issued for the $1.3 billion stadium that the Yankees are building across the street from their current ballpark in the Bronx.

You gotta love that a big business like the Yankees are exempt from paying so many taxes.

The official request goes to the IRS. The new Yankee Stadium has already maxed out its public bond options, and they need IRS approval to go after more. If the Yankees get their way, the Mets would also be eligible to benefit from the new IRS rules.

Everyone knows I love baseball, and Shea Stadium has long been an industrial wasteland of a ballpark. Of course, that's also part of its charm. But as I've watched the new Mets stadium go up, I feel the excitement, even if the new Citi Field goes so far as to use that Citibank red umbrella logo shape in the stadium lights.

But public financing for private profit is fucking bullshit. The Yankees and the Mets are two of the most valuable franchises in sports. And the Yankees, especially when considering their partnership with English football club Manchester United, must be the most valuable sports franchise in the world. Both teams can pay for their own fucking stadiums. But of course, they won't.

A couple of months ago David Zirin, who writes about where sports and politics overlap and about whom I've raved in the past, wrote a stellar piece about the new Washington Nationals stadium (pictured above for your reference), from which I pull this gem:

This isn't just taxation without representation. It's a monument of avarice that will clear the working poor out of the Southeast corner of the city as surely as if they just dispensed with the baseball and used a bulldozer. This is sports as ethnic and economic cleansing, as Hurricane Katrina, as Shock Doctrine, as Green Zone. Fittingly... President George W. Bush came out to throw the first pitch.

Boy, I tell you, this request for more public bonds to build the new Yankee Stadium smells about as good as the entire city during a heatwave.

Infrastructure Is Sexy

We've got ourselves a heat wave on the east coast, and for those of you wondering, it takes about two-and-a-half days of near hundred-degree heat before New York City smells like a garbage dump.

This is the first real heat of 2008, and Con Edison, our faithful (and most likely corrupt) public/private utility service provider, has been issuing power usage warnings and guidelines. Certain neighborhoods should use necessary electricity only. There have been a few brown outs across the City already, and shit, it's early June.

Queens had a lengthy blackout just a couple years ago, and my 'hood was one of the harder hit. My apartment was one of the lucky ones. We had fluctuating, throbbing power in two random outlets. They weren't on the same circuit, and I never did understand the strangeness of it. Most of our neighbors were completely without power. For more than a week.

Looks like NYC's got itself an outdated power grid. ConEd can't keep up with the power demands of a growing city, and across the United States, there's been a distinct lack of investment in infrastructure (if that bridge in Minneapolis is any indication).

In the ever-reliable The Nation magazine a few months ago, the editors asked the primary candidate dropouts of both parties to write about what issues they felt should be discussed more on the campaign trail but were being largely ignored. Tom Tancredo used the opportunity to issue yet another screed about the evils of immigration.

Christopher Dodd wrote about infrastructure, as a topic that should be on full-throttle yet gets little discussion at all. He and anti-war Republican Chuck Hagel have proposed the creation of an infrastructure bank to help pay for all of the things around the country now crumbling thanks to a lack of investment.

I tell you what... I think it's a great idea to throw a shitload of money at public works. Hire a bunch of out-of-work folks (that unemployment rate just keeps on climbing) to fix our busted-up, broken-ass country. Save the bridges, fix the roads, invest in broader public transportation, plant trees, reclaim and restore abandoned buildings... And they're jobs that can't even be outsourced (living wage required!).

Infrastructure discussions won't win elections (even if you couple it with standing up to warrantless wiretapping - Sorry, Dodd), but if those discussions get moved into action, the investment can really make a difference in our neglected communities.

Dude, infrastructure's totally hot.

Richie Was Having a Great Time

There's this art event happening in New York and London for the next few weeks, and I went to check it out this morning. It's the Telectroscope! If you want to know more about the Telectroscope and the myth the artist made up around it, you can follow the link.

What the Telectroscope does, in short, is allow Londoners to see New Yorkers, and New Yorkers Londoners. Just so you know you're really looking at London, New Yorkers get a view of the Tower Bridge in the background. Londoners get to see Lower Manhattan.

Because I'm a shallow simpleton, I tend to like gimmicky art. And I thought it would be fun to go check this sucker out and see if I could also catch a glimpse of a college friend now living in London. I went with another college friend (read her excellent review here), who pondered, "Wouldn't Skype be a lot easier and better since you can actually speak to each other?" "Yes," I said, "but this is art!"

When we got there, it was just us and a guy named Richie.

Our friend wasn't on the other side. We were a little early so we just sorta hung out for a while.

They had a whole system going on the London side. Giant crowds were being corralled a few at a time in front of the lens to spread their messages of good cheer or, more often, "What's your name?" written on the whiteboards provided. Richie wrote, "I'm Richie" probably about a dozen times in the ten minutes we were gawking at Londoners.

Meanwhile, I didn't know what to write (what do you want from me? I'm a writer), so I just sort of stood there awkwardly, somehow realizing that I was one-third of the people representing New York to the thousands of Londoners on the opposite side of this Telectroscope. Not only that, but we learned that the Londoners were being charged a pound to come up close to this thing, so I felt the pressure of giving them their money's worth. At least I was wearing my Mets cap, so I felt like a real New Yorker representing some real New York. A Yankees cap wearer in London didn't recognize the Mets logo. How does that work?

So you stand there with your whiteboards and try to communicate. Every two minutes or so, new Londoners were marched in front of the Telectroscope. Here's how they looked:

You can barely read the fucking whiteboards. But hey, look! The Tower Bridge!

Richie meanwhile was instructing the Londoners, through charades, how to hold their signs to make them legible. When you could finally read the goddamn things you learned some other stranger's name. Terrific. "Hi, Sophie, I'm Richie."

Because it was just the three of us, I felt bad leaving, but I really needed to get to work. So I wrote on my whiteboard, "We have to go to work. Bye." We got a hearty wave from the Londoners, and then we took off. The Londoners were left waving and writing to Richie, who was laughing in full merriment.

Later in the day, I heard from my friend in London who said there was a two-hour wait on her end, which totally blew our meeting time. Her four-year-old twins were disappointed, but forgot all about it when they got ice cream instead.

The unbridled enthusiasm for the project on the London side really made the New York side seem sad. Granted, it was 9:00 a.m. on a work day, and it's not like the Fulton Ferry Landing (the Telectroscope's location in New York) is easily accessible. But come on, man, there were three of us. From a city of nine million people, there were three of us. Oh, and a couple of workers. And one news guy who really couldn't have cared less. At one point, the Londoners got only a few of the news guy's ass. For two hours they waited just to see an arse. Poor bastards.

Still, my London-based friend and I may try again. Maybe Richie will still be there. At least he was saving me from terrible awkwardness.

I Have Low Expectations

The Metropolitan Transit Authority (MTA) owns what might be the last undeveloped piece of land in Manhattan (if you consider rail track undeveloped). They recently sold it to a developer called Tishman Speyer. It was some sort of $1 billion deal. Well, Tishman Speyer backed out.

Now I'm not gonna pretend to know anything about New York City commercial real estate or the terms of the deal or who's to blame for what.

But I've been a consumer of the MTA's services for more than fifteen years now. I've marveled as they've raised fares and cut services. I've been astonished as they've cooked books and somehow gotten a free ride. I've been floored by their constant ability to redefine "incompetent management."

So no, I'm not surprised that a real estate deal involving the MTA fell apart.

The Nastiest Commuters

Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite.

New York City has had a bit of a bedbugs epidemic the past few years. Several people I know have had to deal with the nightmare, and I think an infestation ranks among the missus' biggest fears. They don't discriminate: housing projects, luxury hotels, working class neighborhoods, fashionable neighborhoods. They're everywhere. They're disgusting, annoying, and very difficult to get rid of.

Well, they're on the freakin' subways, too.

Don't sit on the wood benches on the subway platform, New Yorkers. At some point, they're no longer bedbugs, but... I don't know... everywherebugs.

New Yorkers Are Fat

A couple of weeks ago, a court upheld a law that required chain restaurants to display their calorie counts in New York City stores. Apparently, half of New Yorkers are fat. So now when we go to McDonald's we can order the low-calorie item, whatever it may be. I don't know... Diet Coke?

Obviously, most of these restaurants are against posting such information on their displays, and they have until June 3 to comply before the fines start coming.

Chipotle and Starbucks have already posted their calorie counts. I tend to walk a couple of extra blocks for my afternoon coffee, rather than go to the Starbucks immediately across from my office. But today was a rainy, shitty day, and I was in a hurry to get back to the office for a meeting. (If I need another excuse, I'm sure I can come up with one.)

Anyway, it was the first time I saw the calorie postings. I tell you: that shit is effective. I mean, I wasn't going to get a snack anyway, but when I saw that their Crispy Rice Square (the Starbucks' equivalent to the Rice Krispy Treat) was 450 calories, it really made me not want to eat it even more.

I felt a lot thinner today having not eaten the Starbucks food. Then I had a crumpet with peanut butter and maple syrup for dessert tonight. Delicious.

New York! Science Capital of the World!

This story about the World Science Festival coming to New York isn't that interesting, really, but it features a motley crew of characters. In addition to college presidents, it's got Joel Klein (Chancellor of NYC public schools), Alan Alda, Dr. Brian Greene (a prominent physicist), and Dr. Bunsen Honeydew (the Muppet).

During the press conference, Dr. Greene made a point of saying that it's not fun science, but the real thing. A few minutes later, this happened:

Popping up from behind the lectern, Dr. Bunsen Honeydew, who described himself as being from Muppet Labs, extolled the family-oriented programs. The most important thing they could show, he said, was “that science can be as explosive and violent as any TV program.”

Then he sprayed Dr. Greene with a can of silly string.

Serious science, indeed.

I admit that I rather like the Muppets, and Beaker and Dr. Bunsen Honeydew were always a couple of my favorites. I can do a pretty decent Beaker impression, actually, even though nowadays I look a hell of a lot more like Dr. Bunsen Honeydew.

Hot Dogs for Obama

For those of you non-New Yorkers out there, a quick explanation: Gray's Papaya is a chain of hot dog storefronts. I think their hot dogs were fifty cents when I first moved to the city. I haven't bought a hot dog from Gray's Papaya for a long time, so I don't know what they charge now.

Gray's Papaya will occasionally put up signs in their windows. In the late 90s New York City in general (and Giuliani in particular) was pushing this "Be kind to tourists" campaign. And Gray's Papaya had giant signs in their windows that said something about supporting Giuliani and his campaign of kindness.

This campaign never really made any sense to me. I mean, I've actually always found the people of our fair city to be quite generous and kind. Guarded at times, sure. Occasionally cold or rude, perhaps. Volatile, certainly.

But when push comes to shove -- a couple of blackouts, subway incidents, various crises (including 9/11 of course) -- we've got each other, and we're there for each other. And I've found real comfort in that.

So Gray's Papaya has found another campaign to support with its signage:


That's a real hot dog in the eye of the Junior Senator from New York.

And just as a quick aside, I can't recommend enough watching or reading Barack Obama's speech today on race in America. Summaries, reports, and clips of it aren't good enough. Read or watch it in its entirety. Because I didn't want anyone to know that I was taking a break from my job responsibilities, I faked a coughing fit when I got to the end to hide the tears forming in my eyes.

That's right: I'm an emotional coward, B&E readers.

Governors' Play

It's only natural that after the whole Client 9 episode, other governors would feel the need to share their sordid sexual escapades with the public. Here are a couple of things I don't need to know:

Governor-as-of-yesterday David Paterson (Client 9's replacement in Albany) and his wife have had extramarital affairs. During a rough patch in their marriage a few years back, both were known to shack up and take comfort in the kindness of strangers. Seriously, people. Why should I care that they've had marital difficulties? What I DO need to know, however, is how a blind man decides who he's going to hook up with. Where's that information? Time to come clean, David.

Jim "I am a gay American" McGreevey (former governor of New Jersey) and his wife apparently used to have three-ways (and I don't mean the conversational kind) with their driver. So when Jim's wife says she has no idea that he was gay, apparently she's not being altogether truthful. So on Fridays, they'd go to T.G.I. Fridays and then... OK, you know what? I don't need to know what your tacky taste in chain restaurants is. You guys got something against the Olive Garden? Jesus, McGreeveys.

So yes, New York has a new governor. He's black and blind, something that everyone insists on repeating in story after story. OK, I get it. He can't see! He's African-American! Tell me something new about him: Like how he decided what women to hook up with. Is it smell? Touch? Personality? Accident?

Albany is a tough place, Mr. Black & Blind Governor. Don't piss off that Joe Bruno, or he might rearrange your office.

Client 9

As the whole world knows now, New York Governor Eliot Spitzer got himself caught shipping a hooker from New York to DC last month. Whoops.

The much-heralded former Attorney General was elected about a year ago with a mandate to "clean up Albany." Unfortunately, Eliot interpreted "cleaning up Albany" as "fucking whores."

Eliot is a member of the Democratic Party (and endorser of Hillary Clinton--irrelevant point!) and, as I'm sure you can imagine, I usually find this to be a lot funnier when an anti-gay Republican gets caught having a tryst with a go-go boy.

But you know, this is pretty good stuff, too. I mean, Eliot was absolutely disgusted when he broke up a prostitute ring as A.G. a few years ago. So yes, dear B&E readers, Democrats can have their tawdry tales come to light, too. And when they do, they give us gems like this:

I have acted in a way that violates my obligations to my family and violates my, or any, sense of right and wrong.

What's he talking about? I don't get it. He didn't violate his family or a sense of right and wrong. It sounds to me like he violated a whore.

I sure wouldn't hold it against Mrs. Spitzer if she decided to John-McCain the New York Governor, who will now be referred to only as Client 9.

Bridge, of the Brooklyn Sort

I've got a full-time job now. So I will no longer apologize for the lack of posting. I will instead internalize what I think the lack of posting says about me as a person, and concentrate on the feelings of insignificance and self-loathing.

Hello again, dear B&E readers!

I have a self-imposed rule that I won't write about my job. Not only do I like my job (and don't particularly feel like getting fired), but I don't want to become Dilbert.

I will, however, occasionally write about my commute. Commutes are infinitely interesting.

My commute takes me from Queens to Brooklyn every weekday. There's no quick way to make the trip. Even if my journey took me directly along the G train (and mine doesn't), it wouldn't be a quick trip. So instead I try to make it pleasant.

I walk the Brooklyn Bridge. Every day. In both directions. Only the rain keeps me from walking it. And even that I did once, which is why the rain now keeps me from walking it. Maybe - just maybe - in the summer I'll decide it's too hot for bridge walking. I have a slight penchant for sweating. But for now, I walk the Bridge.

It's easy to rave about the Brooklyn Bridge. But that's only because it's the coolest bridge in the world.

The morning sun lights up the bridge and the city just beautifully. I'm walking into the sun toward Brooklyn in the mornings, but I'm sure to turn around and check out the view at least once during my walk. Then on my way home, it's dark, and because it's winter(ish) and there's less haze, the view of city is crisp and clear.

The view of Manhattan itself is different than it was, of course. Until I was working in Brooklyn, I hadn't walked the Brooklyn Bridge since before 9/11. Downtown, from the bridge, doesn't look that interesting. It's impressive, yes. It's almost like one giant monolithic structure. The towers added a varied line to what is now just a lot of really tall buildings. From other angles (from the Staten Island Ferry, for example), downtown looks more varied than it does from the Brooklyn Bridge. But it's really the volume of large buildings downtown that seems impressive from the bridge.

Midtown at night looks like a theater set skyline. So quintessentially New York it's almost fake. The view of midtown from my 'hood in Queens features a prominently displayed Chrysler Building, and it's one of best the city has to offer. From the Brooklyn Bridge, though, the Chrysler Building looks tiny, and a little lonely, set off to the side. But midtown is full of color and flashing lights. And much better appreciated from a distance.

The view of Brooklyn is not uninteresting, but there's not as much to speak of (possibly because I'm not as familiar with Brooklyn). There's the Watchtower, of course, where the Jehovah's Witnesses live and print their magazines. But DUMBO (that's Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass for those of you not in the know) is mostly warehouse buildings and brand-spankin'-new condos. Brooklyn Heights looks like a neighborhood, which it is. The two-tiered BQE is a bit of a trip. And the ship-building in Red Hook offers a touch of the industrial.

My fellow pedestrians are mostly tourists. Those that aren't I see regularly. I tend to look at the faces of the people I pass on the street, and surprisingly few look back. The first month I was walking the bridge there was one woman that looked back every time. One morning she smiled at me. I smiled back. I haven't seen her since.

Boy, that sounded unnecessarily ominous.

Very few other people look back. There's the dude in the dark shades and Van Dyke with the unconnected mustache and goatee. There's the skinny chick with the fat face (only when you see it, do you realize how rare it is). There's the woman who looks like the older version of a college classmate. Come to think of it, maybe I'm an older version of her college classmate. Nah, I'm pretty sure it's not her. There's the middle-aged runner who wears pink shorts no matter how cold it is. If they looked at me, I'd probably be the bald guy who can sweat in any weather.

The cyclists go by a little quicker, but one guy rides by every morning with the child's attachment bike on the back. It's always empty. I've assumed he's a divorcee who keeps it there just in case he gets an unexpected day with his kid. Good luck, buddy.

The Brooklyn Bridge itself... Hell, it's the one thing a Norwegian will know about Brooklyn. It really is an impressive specimen. So much so, that I don't know what else to say about it. One morning, the NYPD was performing some sort of crazy-ass training exercise on the bridge. I've included a photo.

At night you can see through the planks in the pedestrian walkway down to the ground below (obviously, when you're above the water, it just looks like a dark abyss). If you're scared of heights that can be a bit disconcerting. But what the hell are you doing looking down, anyway, when you're surrounded by the most beautiful bridge in the most amazing city in the world?

In Case You Missed It...

towers of light
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of the events of September 11, 2001. I only mention this because it's quite possible that you missed any reference to it. No one was talking about it. No one at all. It was nowhere in the media. And it wasn't exploited politically even once.

I remained silent here at B&E out of respect. OK, really I remained silent because I spent the day en route from Vermont to New York.

A couple of weeks ago, the missus and I decided to go to the observation deck at Empire State Building. I hadn't gone in years, and the missus never had. Meanwhile, she'd gone up in the World Trade Center, and I'd never done that. My reason? I was told by more than a few people that the view from the Empire State Building was cooler because it was mid-island.

Anyway, I like going to the Empire State Building. It's one of the things I'll do with friends and family from out of town. If you look just past the left of the Citibank Building in Queens, you can see my block, but not my apartment. I don't really know why I like doing that, but I do.

The experience of the Empire State Building has changed in the past five years (it had been at least that long since I'd gone). Salespeople were trying to get us to buy things all along the way. Audio tours of the view from the top, photographs in front of green screens, tickets to virtual tours... All this stuff was new. And it was bad enough that we were waiting in line for as long as we were. But we heard the same pitches over and over and over again, and it was really aggravating.

The missus said quietly, "Well, they don't have any competition anymore."

I said, "Boy, 9-11 was a real boon for the Empire State Building!"

We were both quiet for a moment.

"Too soon."

"Yeah, too soon," the missus agreed.

Bald Street Marketing

bald bridge
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

I loathe street marketing which, on top of being invasive in our everyday lives, is also getting all "viral" on our asses. "Look, hot guerilla marketing stranger, I don't care if the new mixed cocktail from Captain Morgan's Original Spiced Rum is the most refreshing drink of the summer. I want a seltzer with lime. And I want you to leave me the hell alone."

Recently I learned that my primary source of income would be drying up at the end of September, so I did what I usually do when I need work -- send out resumes, email former freelance contacts, tell all my friends I'm looking. Still, when I was forwarded a "street team needed" Craig's List posting, I recoiled in horror.

And yet I had that certain something they were looking for, and they promised a nice walk through New York City with like-headed individuals.

The company is Bald Guyz. The products are grooming/personal care items specifically for the bald man's needs.

Well, now, for obvious reasons, this is something I can get behind.

We met at 7am, put on our bright orange shirts, which had the Bald Guyz logo on the front while the back said, "Bald Guyz get better head," and made our way across the Brooklyn Bridge. The WB (soon-to-be CW)-11 and Fox-5 morning shows featured our walk from their choppers (the Fox-5 chopper was being piloted by two bald fellas). As the bald men walked, hot women wearing "Bald Guys are sexy" t-shirts handed out free head wipes and coupons to the baldies we passed.

We had great weather -- not too hot, not too humid -- and from the Brooklyn Bridge we headed uptown through Chinatown, Washington Square Park, Union Square, Herald Square, Rockefeller Center (the tourists loved us), and back down to Bryant Park, where we had lunch and ended our day.

All in all, it was probably about a six-mile walk. Decent exercise. It had been a long time since I'd gone on a long walk through the city, and it's nice to have the occasional reminder of how great New York is. I was walking with an amateur historian (and actor -- lots of actors do street marketing to supplement the acting incomes), and while that may sound boring and/or torturous, it was great, actually. We shared lots of tidbits about what we knew of the city, and how it's changed since we arrived in the early 90s.

There were a total of about twenty bald men. Three were older dudes, one of whom had a thick beard and kept referring to himself as the only "bear." I spent much of the day trying to figure out if the gay implications of his "bear" comments were intentional, but by the end of the day, I was no closer to an answer. I don't know if the Bald Guyz guys just took all the bald men who replied to the Craig's List ad or what (some of the dudes were funny looking), but I was impressed with the diversity of the group they found. Taking out the three or four older white dudes, the rest of the bald dudes were a pretty even split between white, black, and Latino. The hot women were pretty evenly split, too. Shortage on the Latinas, perhaps.

As was inevitable in New York, we passed a bald woman, who looked totally great. One of the rambunctious Latino dudes gave her a head wipe. She looked somewhere between amused and annoyed.

Bald men love their fellow bald men. Many of the baldies we passed would see our shirts, holler "BALD GUYS!" and give us all high fives, ask where they could get t-shirts, graciously accept their free product samples, etc. Then, of course, there was the inevitable bald guy who just wanted to be left alone as he was walking down the street. And on two or three occasions, a bald man approached didn't want to think of himself as bald. Denial won't protect your scalp, buddy!

We were particularly popular with cops. Three equestrian cops doffed their helmets to reveal the domes underneath. Lady cops got free samples for their husbands. Cops inside cop cars used our presence as an opportunity to bust the balls of their bald junior partners, who sat in the passenger seat, sheepishly accepting the coupon.

A homeless dude promised to shave his head if we got him a t-shirt, but I think he struck out. The t-shirts were already on their way back to the office.

And around East 4th Street, I ran into Hil, who'd seen the group but not me (until I shouted at her). She was just arriving at her office, and her first order of business was going to be to email me about the Bald Guyz. Alas, I was already one of them.

Where baldness is concerned, I tend to be a step ahead of others.

It's an Idyllic Life Up There, on the Upper East Side

collapsed townhouse
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

So I'm sure most of you heard about the townhouse that exploded yesterday in Manhattan.

The New York Times has cobbled together a sequence of events that culminated in the explosion. Oh, yes, dear B&E readers, it is indeed worth reading.

It's such a wildly fucked up story, in fact, that I haven't even mentioned that Mets third baseman David Wright nearly won last night's home run derby.

One of Those Great New York Things

daily show
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

A few months ago, it was "The Colbert Report." Yesterday, the missus and I went to "The Daily Show." We requested tickets back in February, and after one failed attempt, we got seats for last night's show.

I love that these things are free. I mean, it was hotter than a monkey's ass yesterday (very hot), and you have to sit outside for hours to guarantee your seats, but it didn't cost anything to go. This is a major plus to living in New York City. It might be one of the most expensive cities in the world, but there's a lot of free shit to do.

But after several hours of sitting on the sidewalk outside the show, we were let into the gorgeously air-conditioned studio. There was a warm-up act, who was a hell of a lot better than the warm-up act we got for Stephen Colbert. Man, that guy blew. But the guy yesterday was surprisingly funny. Most stand-up comedy is decidedly not.

Then Jon came out and took questions prior to taping the show. My personal favorite:

"If President Bush gave you one of his nicknames, what would it be?"

"Kike." Big laugh. Then, "Jersey Jewbag." Slipping into his Dubya impression, "Jersey, 'cause yer from Jersey. And Jewbag... 'cause yer a Jewbag. Heh heh heh heh."

It wasn't the best "Daily Show" ever, but it was fun. Adam Sandler was the guest. Frankly, I was hoping for a politico, but Adam Sandler was alright.

And it was free!

I Love a Good Ed Koch Sighting

edkoch
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

I'd like to give a prolonged shout-out to Deb, congratulating her on the opening of her film The Tollbooth on Friday. Everyone in New York: go see the film at the Quad, this week, if possible. Nice work, Deb!

And in a further testament to her moxie, I'd like to congratulate Deb on getting New York's most colorful former mayor, Ed Koch, to attend Friday's opening. The missus and I got there early, as did Ed, and we had a lovely time watching him catch some z's in the lobby waiting for entry. We also sat in his row and can testify that he remained awake during the film itself.

There was one other star sighting as well (in addition to the cast of The Tollbooth, I mean). A few places behind Ed and me in line, a dude was excited to see Chris Elliot in attendance. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was just me.

Happy Groundhog Day

So Punxsatawney Phil saw his shadow and says we're getting another six weeks of winter. But our local Staten Island-based groundhog, Chuck, didn't see any freakin' shadow. So spring will spring in New York first, my friends.

Of course, this winter in New York has hovered around 50 degrees, so how big a deal would it be if Chuck was dead wrong?

A special shout-out to Senator Chuck Schumer, who participated in Staten Island's version of the 2/2 ritual. Schumer, as it turns out, was named for our local groundhog, so that's pretty weird.