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Monthly Archive for February, 2008

by Angry M.F. Fisher. Luc Sante is an emotional, and primitive man. If these aren’t the first qualities associated with the Low Life author & former Brooklyn resident, they are among the most important. Why? Because something has enabled Sante to remain an inventive, and surprising writer— one whose best work rewards rereading where most […]

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The Gospel According to The Music Director: But what the hell took us so long to deliver The Word? As heads ponder the imponderable from Bay Ridge to City Line– Gerritsen Beach clamdiggers put down their shovels & look to wards the heavens– Coney Island smoked fish mongers in white frocks & heavy rubber boots […]

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& the first thing that I heard was a Toad. 99.5% of the time ya’ll don’t even have to ask, the answer is fuck no I don’t want to go to Chelsea. Once in a rare while, however, 99 1/2 won’t do & this is one of those times, as John Strausbaugh appears at Half […]

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Dear Scorpion: Thank you for the recent postings by Brooklyn’s Norman Oder (Forest City Ratner Admits Lie Well, Not An Error But A Minor Imprecision and my infuriating favorite, The Spirit Of The Times), which I think are fantastic. Many of the bits in these posts surpass in brilliance, insight and compassion anything I’ve read […]

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Swan rolls out the welcome wagon, Gowanus Style: “… soon after moving in, I started reading the two community newspapers that served South Brooklyn. One had classifieds filled with Russian and Chinese brothels but the stories I most recall about the reconstruction of the 9th Street lift bridge across the Canal, which was years behind […]

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“The moment one learns English, complications set in. Try as one may, one cannot elude this conclusion, one must inevitably come back to it. This applies to all persons, including those born to the language and, at times, even more so to Latins, including Spaniards. It manifests itself in an awareness of implications and intricacies […]

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is he saying these things about WWIB? Angry M.F. Fisher investigates: Trini to the bone I’m not– as a food writer of mixed Scots, Basque & Latvian heritage, I love the whole of New York City’s West Indian diaspora equally– but, following up a recent comment by reader Amy, today I’ll speak about kindness, justice, […]

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The Music Director is risin’ too: While WWIB collectively tries to restrain itself from the furies that accompanied the most loathesome media cum real estate unveiling to hit the Gold Coast of Gowanus since Whole Foods lied their way into multiple postings from corporate dupe bloggers (& the ersatz “journalists” who echo them), our colleague […]

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Operation Pressure Point, 1983. The cops move in en masse and shut down the nickel-bag stores and the corner dealers, making the area safe for yuppiefication. “Country” gets taken away, fidgeting in the cuffs. Other neighborhood fixtures disappear—“Wolf Man,” who howled at passersby and went barefoot 365 days a year; “Dirt Man,” who was filthy […]

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Toad is burning up! February 16, 2008– a date already twitching in infamy in Canarsie-native Charles Burney IV’s forthcoming A General History of Brooklyn Music (Pinakothek Press) & soon to be tripping off the tongues of swingers, boppers, moldy figs, folkies, hippies, mods, rockers, dreads, punks, no wavers, b-boys, blunt heads, fly ladies & prisoners […]

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