Cross Town Thoughts
As we confront conversion to robots and drones taking over our everyday lives. Hearken back to another time. The clang clang of a bell out the window. Mister Softee? No. Much more resonant. Like a trolley. What could it be? Mike taps the disk with a blade. A relic from 1941 still serving the community. The Knife Sharpening truck. And a customer. Perfect after Turkey-carving day.
Or. For those scissors to cut down NO PARKING signs.
Balloonistas from far and wide have left the ‘hood. Bleachers still up. Banging and clanging to come for the annual return of our sidewalk. Soon. We hope. Along Central Park West. Can park on our block again. Even if the No Parking signs linger. Scissors at the ready or they’d be up until May.
A rollicking fun weekend. Delicious non-turkey feast at the Oxbow. Parades. Family visits. Post Stuffington Frittata. Respite from politics. Even if. Some wore their opinions on t-shirts for lively dinner conversations. Until next year.
It’s that time of year again. Bleachers banging and clanging until they’re up. San Remo and Langham building guys erect wooden barriers around their shrubs. Slanted boards across windows. No Parking Signs for 3 days. Sweepers screaming and cleaning. Tow trucks at dawn. Opening up the streets. Taking down the traffic lights. Room for the balloons. Metal gates sliding and gliding along the curbs. Ready for the Macy’s madness to descend upon the ‘hood.
If anybody comes this year. Forecast. Windy and cold. Even the Grinch may stay indoors.
So lucky our microwave is big enough for a 25-lb. frozen turkey!!
Halloween costumes this year. Nope!!
Ghost. Appropriating unsettled dead people.
Witch. Appropriating coven worshippers.
Fortnite Blue Hair. Appropriating Smurfness.
Chimney Sweep. Black face.
Mariachi Skeleton.
Appropriating Mexican grave dwellers.
You get the idea. Skippy Hallow. 2018.
Today’s final pairing at Ridgewood, NJ. Keegan Bradley & Bryson DeChambeau. Why aren’t they constantly on the clock? As they painstakingly perseverate over lining up each shot, there’s plenty of time to take a long walk around the block.
Never know who or what you’ll see. A visiting star from the great beyond. Or. A guy shlepping his flea market furniture find home. Only in NYC!
Off the beaten trek. Some even agreed.
Kat Stoeffel. The Age of the MSNBC Mom
Maureen Dowd. Bill’s Belated #MeToo Moment
Pete Wells. Anthony Bourdain
Michael Ian Black. The Boys Are Not All Right
Ocasio-Cortez had a positive message. She did not focus on her gender or ethnicity nor did she dwell on hating Trump. But rather gave her attention to girls behind the bars and guys in the garbage trucks. Yup. That will win back working class votes. Well done. Even though. She’s an avowed Socialist. So. A blue county turns bluer. Doesn’t change the congressional landscape and moves the party further left. Works in Queens. Swing districts. Not so much.
Speaking of queens. Stephen Frears of The Queen directs the quirky cheeky A Very English Scandal on Amazon. Homosexuality in the Beatles-era. Based on the story of MP Jeremy Thorpe portrayed brilliantly by Hugh Grant. Excellent ensemble cast.
Michael Bloomberg reportedly putting the band back together for a 2020 run. NY Post today. Has he been reading my blog? Yes! Please run, Mike! A New York billionaire independent-minded businessman. He’s mulling joining the fray as a Democrat. Why not? He’s already investing $80 million to provide a counterbalance to the ineptitude of the Republicans in governing. Admittedly, it’d be hard to get a short Jewish almost-80-year-old elected. But. Biden and Bernie are pondering another plunge. So. Hey. He’s already gotten my vote. In 2016.
Not those Queens quips from Hot Air One. Although they qualify. It’s what’s overheard on the street. People on cell phones talking at high decibels. Intimate conversations with lovers. Bosses firing employees. The quack doc complaining about his wacky girlfriend crying on the floor in front of the elevators in the lobby of his building. Mother berating another over how to parent. Wife telling someone her husband’s working late every night. Even on weekends. She’s stuck home with the kids. Yup. It’s an audible soap opera every day. We can hear you!
Word on the street. U.S. Open. Ricky Fowler for the win. Wishing for Poulter. Looks like D.J.
The Spotted Pig, trendy mainstay of the West Village has been the fodder for recent #MeToo due to bad behavior by restaurateur duo Mario Batali and Ken Friedman. Friedman’s chef co-owner April Bloomfield has parted ways with him after pretending to be oblivious to the debauched behavior in the venue’s after-hours-upstairs. Drugging and raping staff. Allegedly.
News today that another woman is going to partner with Friedman to revive The Spotted Pig. Gabrielle Hamilton, author of Blood, Bones & Butter and decades-acclaimed chef owner of East Village gem Prune. A renegade rebel from lobster fiascos at upscale camps in the Berkshires, to line chef at Curtis & Schwartz in Northampton while at Hampshire College, as told in Table’s Edge. This is an interesting decision. But. Hey. Go Gabrielle! You are a true survivor.
Side Trek . NYC 