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Monthly Archive for August, 2009

We never thought blogs would take us this far. One who did is “just” the Music Director around here, Willis Street Sunsweet, fresh from KRS-One and Buckshot at City Hall Park Saturday afternoon and straight to the roti spot. After that, I have no idea what happened since we’ve not heard from him since. Therefore, […]

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Death loves a mystery. Death can’t get started. Death in high heels. Death makes the world go ’round. Death in a Class A uniform. Death at the Dakota. Death your magic spell is everywhere. Death is here to stay. Death goes to the movies. Death is marching on. Death travels to Samarra. Death and his […]

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It’s been the same every August 22, or at least since then Brooklyn Borough President Sebastian Leone decreed it so in 1976: John Cazale Day! Less than two years later, the great actor was dead: the bone cancer. Director Sidney Lumet (b. 1924, and greatest maker of Brooklyn fims in the sound era*), the once […]

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What is Toni Schlesinger’s Significant Object? Is it a bird, something like an osprey, piping plover or laughing gull? (Fuck piping plovers, hah!) Is it a plane— perhaps even the Concorde? Might it be— wild guess— a pair of Civil War-vintage scarlet pantaloons? (That’s what I wear to the beach over my bikini so I […]

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You folks that think it is easy to find something fresh to quarrel with every week ought to run this column for a couple of years. I druther  wash dishes. What am I to find fault with this Sunday, for instance? Vittles? Mine don’t quarrel with me so why should I quarrel with them? Politics? […]

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The man commenced. “The work I shall read to tonight is a section from my life-long endeavor, ‘Voyage of the Sun God, To Brooklyn.’ It is rather lengthy, so I shall read only the final and culminating six hundred lines. The sentences in Gaelic will be numerous and represent the Seventy-eight Commandments from the Sun […]

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It happened that on Fourteenth Street there was a place called the “Automat,” with phonographs, punching bags, weighing machines, chewing-gum machines and, of course, kinetoscopes. The Automat was one of the sights of the town, because no employees were needed, only a watchman. You dropped your nickels into the machines, and down in the basement […]

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WHATTA YAMEAN THE SAUCES NO GOOD? THATS WHAT I SAID, THE SAUCES NO GOOD. WHATS THE MATTA, YA DONT UNDERSTAND ENGLISH? ITS NO GOOD. NO GOOD, NO GOOD. WHATTA YAKNOW ABOUT SAUCE? MEEEE, WHATTA I KNOW? I KNOW IT STINKS. NOT ENOUGH GARLIC. ITS GOT THE SAME GARLIC. JUST LIKE ALWAYS. THE SAME 8 CLOVES […]

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And if ya’ll don’t believe me, here’s the proof— 100% Playground, accept no imitations, although if ya’ll are going to make a food run to Avenue L in between games of handball, please bring back some tasso,  a plate of grillot, a little fritaille, a half order of lambi if they’re cool with that, two […]

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I can feel the heat closing in, feel them out there making their moves, setting up their devil doll stool pigeons, crooning over my spoon and dropper I throw away at Washington Square Station, vault a turnstile and two flights down the iron stairs, catch an uptown A train… Young, good looking, crew cut Ivy […]

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