Douchebag Database

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Dear Governor Cuomo,

Just got my invitation via email to “like” you, despite the fact that you are thoroughly unlikeable by all accounts. Now, I was marginally okay with having a bullying hard-ass in my political corner for a change from all that namby-pambe Harry Reid/Barack Obama politesse. But not if it means I’m going to have flammable water so you can get elected president.

I’m not happy with you, dude, not the least of which because I’ve had to spend my summer attending upside-down town council meetings where the elders banned cigarette smoking within fifty feet of the new town hall at the same time they had a gas lobbyist redraft the town’s zoning laws to welcome mining rigs.

Also, I hear from first-hand sources that you’re an over-weeningly ambitious bullying asshole. The kind who threatens people into doing what you want; like, putting your name on the ballot or else. And craps on people that haven’t properly kissed your ring.

Andrew Cuomo, I knew your father. He was a Facebook friend of mine. And you are no Mario Cuomo.

So, no, I’m not going to ever like you. On Facebook or anywhere else.

PS. You’re dead to me!

Yours, Allison


Just how many crooks and schmucks HAS Brooklyn produced?

Not only can Brooklyn lay claim to Anthony Weiner, former Governor David Paterson, and Al Capone. We’ve also got Lloyd Blankfein, outgoing head of Goldman Sachs, who just this month got indicted, got canned, AND got a Founder’s Award from the Bed-Stuy Restoration Corporation.

Brooklyn, you make me so proud.

From the NY Times yesterday

When you visit Bed-Stuy, you don’t necessarily think of Goldman Sachs.

And yet, the gritty Brooklyn neighborhood known best as the birthplace of hip-hop stars including Jay-Z and Talib Kweli got a boost from the world’s largest investment bank on Monday. The annual benefit dinner for the Bedford Stuyvesant Restoration Corporation, a nonprofit organization with roots dating back to Robert F. Kennedy, gave its annual Founders Award to Lloyd C. Blankfein, Goldman’s chief executive.

Look at the guest list here!” exclaimed former New York Governor David Paterson. “I thought for a second I was at the New York Public Library dinner.”

Mr. Blankfein, who grew up in Brooklyn’s Linden projects, gave brief remarks praising the foundation, and highlighting the work of Goldman’s Urban Investment Group, which finances projects including a mixed-income housing project in Bed-Stuy last year.

Mr. Blankfein could use a little revitalization himself. Shortly after the dinner, he was named “Worst Person in the World” by Keith Olbermann on the anchor’s Current TV show, in connection to reported job cuts at the bank’s American branch while hiring in Singapore.

But in this room, at least, he was a hero.

In addition to his award, Mr. Blankfein may have picked up a kindred spirit in Mr. Paterson. During a lull in the cocktail hour, he and the former governor were spotted arguing over who was more unpopular among the general public.

“I told Lloyd, ‘You’ve been kicked around more than anyone!’ ” Mr. Paterson later recalled. “And here I thought I was No. 1.”

Lovely.

At the beginning of the month, CNBC reported that the Manhattan District Attorney has delivered a subpoena to the firm relating to its activity in the mortgage-backed securities market during the financial crisis. You know, by destroying the economy and all to make lots of money. From the Senate’s Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations: Goldman ”misled investors and created conflicts of interest as the company built short positions before the U.S. housing market collapsed.” The report pretty much said that Lloyd Blankfein lied his face off under oath and now he may face charges. Yes, Lloyd Blankfein is the guy you have to thank for the fact that none of us will ever be able to get a mortgage or bank loan again. And for the worst recession since the Depression.

But there’s always Bed-Stuy.

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She’s perfectly nice in real life but from her first FIPS rant, I have hated Bitchy Mom like poison.

It’s almost as profound as my irrational hatred of City Room’s Andy Newman and his tweets about his beloved hawk babies. As a bitch myself, I feel personally affronted because we have to maintain the bar (the proverbial one; not the literal one. Well, maybe that too). This broad lowers the tone, goddamn.

Even when I agree with the general premise, I feel disagreeable. To me, Bitchy Mom is just too much: too boorish, too unbearably judgy, too salacious AND too damn derivative to boot. Perhaps her worst sin of all is that she’s not very funny, just mean. She should be barred from using a photo of Nancy Botwin because she doesn’t deserve to be in her company, even if she is writing about Park Slope moms and their love of pot. I may have to light up one of my medicinal joints just to recover from writing this post.

Most of all, Bitchy Mom’s verbiage makes me “cray-cray.”

Words I never want to hear again: obvsies, totes, bitchez, probs, whatevs, shit-ay, preggers, resto (restaurant or rest of, depending), baber, bebe, bay-bay, Halloweenzies, oopsies, strollz (stroller) and so on and so forth.

I actually thought she didn’t exist for a while but was some imaginary alter-ego breeder cooked up by Erica over at FIPS. And yet, she has that incendiary appeal of Sarah Palin if she lived in greater Park Slope with her boyfriend and bebe.

Things other people have to say about BM:

  • Wow… you are the worst part of Fucked in Park Slope. I absolutely hate when you appear on my RSS feed.
  • Your opinions are beyond bitchy and move into uncharted realms of stupidity and self-involvement.
  • This writer’s style and observations are not up to the standards of this blog. Surely there’s a better writer out there to represent this point of view?
  • Wow. Chill with the language there, chick. Jesus.
  • Did you have to post that link? I’m going wash my eyes out with Clorox now.
  • A douchey, unfair, hyperbolic, poorly written and poorly reasoned post that no one likes because it’s not up to the usual standards of awesomeness that we come here to enjoy.
  • If you’re going to be a moron about this, at least get it straight.
  • This is a seriously lame and amateurish post. It’s honestly just bad writing and in poor taste and I’m actually someone who reads every post on this blog and cracks up at all of them, but you’ve managed to even offend me.
  • You’re stupid.
  • Lame, mean post. I’m all for Fucked, but not mean.
  • Bitchy Mom’s posts have consistently been over-reaching and trying too hard to sound, well, like Erica. Meh.

In fact, just about the only person who actually has anything nice to say about Bitchy Mom? Life coach/manny Anthony of Charismatic Kid who finds BM highlarious. Why am I not surprised?

And yet BM has moments of literary genius-ishness like some select good lines in her Weird Genderless Baby Killing My Buzz post:  ”fruit of their fucked up looms” and “At the tender ages of 5 and 2, Kio and Jazz (!?) are even more interested in gender studies than your now-lesbian college girlfriend” come to mind.

Because I’m a bitch and also I have nothing more urgent to report on this last day of freedom before school’s out for summer, I’ve decided to take an annotated look back at the selected works of Bitchy Mom.

BM’s inaugural post on the scourge (my word) of mini-bugaboos: Worthy subject but not well-executed.  Weird chip on shoulder against, uh, everybody. And poor proofreading skills.

So yesterday I took my kid to the park because I thought he could use a chance to run around after his escape into the bathroom wherein he stuck his hands up to his elbows in toilet water that still had pee in it.

So whatvever.

I went to that park on Berkeley between 4th and 5th Aves. Obvsies, I didn’t want to have to talk to any other moms, so I parked my stroller next to some nannies who i knew weren’t gonna even look at me let alone engange in conversation. One of the nannies’ toddlers had one of those little mini-strollers that they were pushing around. I swear, the sight of all those little kids pushing around those little strollers is enough to make me want to give it all up.

What is wrong with this kids in this neighborhood!? Even the babies are baby obsessed! Kids around here would rather push around a fucking stroller than play on a slide…I don’t get it!? But before I could properly process, I saw the horror of all motherfucking horrors: A MINI BUGABOO!!

This thing was being pushed around proudly all up and down the playground by some 3-year-old future overbearing mommy. I was so shocked and horrified, I needed to find out where someone could even buy one of these things, so I googled that shit the second I got home. And what I found was even more disturbing: some DIY HOW-TO GUIDE on Ohdeedoh on how to build your own mini goddamned Bugaboo.

GAG. ME.

Also, did you know the Danish word for END is SLUT. So like, there are hopscotch courses in Denmark and at the end it will just say SLUT. we should have that here. I know it doesn’t relate, but those parents need to be taught a lesson.

Middle-Aged MILF Breastfeeding In Public Post: Huh? This is not satire; this is a complex of some kind.

Dear Middle Aged MILF sitting next to me at the park:

Look, I breast feed too. I’m all for it. It’s great for the baby, less chance of your kid being fat later in life, WHATEV.  But you and I both know that the reason you have your boob out right now isn’t so that you can feed your what looks to be three year old. It’s so you can flash that hot dad over there a glimpse of your titties. Yeah, just lap it up. No one can judge you or call you a slut. EXCEPT ME!

I’m all for self righteous public breast feeding if the situation calls for it. A quiet corner of a public park? Fine. In the living room with a few good friends who don’t expect it? Hilarious. In a restaurant? FUCK NO. In front of a FILF daddy group? You’re a whore.

Wait what? Your kid is crying again five minutes later? Are you sure he isn’t just tired? Wants ice cream? Is upset cause that other kid took his water balloon?  NOPE, better whip out your boob again, just to make sure.

Also. While you might claim you are still breast feeding your kid so that he can get all those essential nutrients, I think you just want your boobs to stay that big. And girlfriend, I am right there with you. Breast is motherfucking (literally, duh) best.

Pregnant Lady Porn post. Most salacious and make-me-want-to-take-a-shower post ever.

If you’re preggers and wondering what batshit crazy thing to do today, recreate any one of these pics PUH-LEEZ. When I get accidentally knocked up (again) I’m going to force my husband (baby daddy) to pose with me JUST. LIKE. THIS:

Windsor Terrace Ballet Studio Goes Asshole (Vegan) post: When my mild distaste solidified into active dislike.

The Cynthia King Dance Studio on Prospect Ave is turning your kids into douche bags.

Cynthia, a former professional dancer, forces her students to wear cruelty free “vegan” shoes. This cray cray be-atch says that leather ballet slippers don’t “mesh with the beautiful passionate joy” she has for dancing.”

BARF.

You guys, I’M WORRIED. Does Cynthia have a sweat shop full of little tutu-wearing kids sewing silk to hardened tofu or woven wheat grass? OH WAIT, did I say tutu? My bad –– that shit ain’t allowed at Cynthia’s studio. Her students are required to wear leotards and tights only. Any kid that shows up different has to GTFO.

Don’t worry, things get whacker: Cynthia’s studio is decorated with elaborate costumes that dangle from the ceiling above the innocent children dancing below (souvenirs of former victims?)

Cynth explains, “I didn’t come from a normal, peaceful, fairy-tale life.”

OMG. BLACK SWAN ALERT.

Okay, I think I’m done.

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As if the locals didn’t have enough to be pissed about when it comes to Bruce Ratner et al, now comes the news that an army of rats have been fanning out like a giant tsunami: infesting houses and backyards, eating peoples’ cars (insulation, anyway) and acting like rats.

Okay, that really is adding insult to injury.

Last Friday, 60 people who live in the area sat down together with City Council Member Letitia James and the Dean Street Block Association to share war stories. And holy rat shit, they had a lot to complain about. Descriptions ranged from a car catching on fire from food debris dragged into an engine by rats, garbage cans torn up, to kids unable to play in the Dean Street Playground, and rats landing on unwary folks hanging out on barca and chaise loungers inside their homes and while hanging in backyards.

Some notable quotes from Atlantic Yards Report:

“We don’t have a normal rat problem, we have a rat tsunami,” observed Dean Street resident Karen-Ida Scott.

“I now park in Park Slope,” recounted John Martinez (at right, speaking), aiming to save his car’s insulation from regular rat attacks. “If gets any further, I’ll have to take a cab to my car.”

“I’ve lived on Dean Street for 49 years; this is the worst I’ve ever seen it,” observed Rosa Cintron.

“I’m here since 1963; we never saw so many rats like this,” recounted Joe Pastore (left, speaking), a longtime resident of Dean Street who was relocated from the arena block. “I have seen big rats like cats eat right through the plastic bags.”

“I’ve never seen rats in Fort Greene,” commented Lucy Koteen, an Atlantic Yards opponent who was one of several Fort Greene residents (the rest not active in the opposition) at the meeting. Lately, she said, she’s seen rats the size of large squirrels.

I guess it should come as no big surprise that Forest City Ratfink doesn’t want to take responsibility for the rat epidemic. The city DOH says it will send out investigators to evaluate the sitch but seemed to place as much blame on area ressies as Forest Ratner.

By the way, the biggest rat of them all will be at his new Dune Road estate in Hampton Bays while the poor schlubs of Prospect Heights are meeting with exterminators and trying to find a parking spot in Park Slope.

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What is it about having a little bit of power that turns people into such dirtbuckets?

And I’m not talking about the heavy hitters. No, I’m talking about the lowly holders of small slices of power: the meter maids, traffic cops, cashiers, off-leash dog hour enforcers, middle-managers, maitre ds of the world, and in this case a very, very not nice MTA “poles” lady in Brooklyn.

A commuter I will call @absentminded is by her own accounting a bit of a space shot. Heading into work Friday with her monthly Metrocard somewhere on her person, she made the grievous error of walking through an open gate instead of through the turnstile.

At which point, our co-star “bad police woman” enters the plot.

Still oblivious of any wrongdoing, @absentminded was summarily stopped by an MTA Officer who, I’m sorry to admit, I’ve been picturing along the lines of Al Sharpton if he was a broad named Laquisha who has issues with entitled white people. Someone who perhaps is taking out the centuries of institutionalized racism with a little racial profiling of her own.

Actually, I was wrong-o with my prejudiced M.O.. @Absentminded—like the good local liberal she is—doesn’t want to be all judgy by giving a description. But, I’m going to tell you: watch out for a doughey white (or possibly hispanic) bottle-blond copper lady at Metro-Tech station.

Ordering her to put her hands up (fine, I made that up), BPW wanted none of @absentminded’s sorry-ass excuses, such as the proffering of her monthly paid transit pass, for instance.

Fuck that shit. No, while barking at the perp commuter to keep her hands where cop lady could see them, BPW phoned in for a background check of “priors” before issuing a big old $100 ticket. The whole interrogation and ticketing went on for 15 minutes.

@absentminded: She thought she was on “Cops.”

@brooklynbreeder: She didn’t frisk you, did she?

@absentminded: No, she didn’t frisk, but she kept barking ‘keep your hands out of your pockets’ like I was armed.

@brooklynbreeder: That calling in the priors part is just so bad, it’s kind of great.

@absentminded: I got home & told my husband abt the priors and he went on a huge riff abt my earlier absentmindedness infractions. He envisioned an entire rap sheet.

In the end, the 50 or so Twitter conversations proved therapeutic. She found comradeship with a multitudes of other space cadets, solidarity with the many who have also been abused by the NYC subway staff in some fashion, others who love a good piece of kid art when they see it.

And that graphic letter to the MTA from the kid did make the whole ugly episode sort of worthwhile. For the historic record, @absentminded is writing a letter and will be mailing in the visual aid too along with the check.

But really, why can’t we just get along!

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It takes a lot to get my bungalow colony of WELL-FED, LAZY-ASSED, LIMO-LIBERAL, VACATIONING CITY FOLK off our collective tushes, but the threat of methane-infused water may just be the ticket.

I’ve been writing about the generalized calamity of fracking and gas drilling upstate for a couple of years now as it slowly rolled toward the rolling hills of the weekend homes of landed New Yorkers (and/or those we mooched off).

But this week the shit officially hit the fan in my Catskills town of Cochecton.

In keeping with the tiresome tireless democratization and cooperating we do at my bungalow colony — Lake Huntington Summer Community — reps from our environmental/holy-shit-fracking-is-coming committee attended this week’s Cochecton public hearing to discuss proposed changes to the town’s land use zoning.

And pulled out their crackberries and iphones to report in of the deeply fracked nature of the proceedings. Because it turns out the consultant the town had hired to redraft local zoning and land-use laws is… wait for it… a gas industry lobbyist!

When I went to the TOWN OF COCHECTON’S WEBSITE to take a closer look at the proposed land use plans, I was linked to the firm website of THOMAS SHEPSTONE, who just last week got into trouble for OFFERING FREE BASEBALL TICKETS TO LURE SUPPORTERS into attending an Energy In Depth gas drilling event in DC.

Shepstone is also listed as the campaign manager of the  NE Marcellus Initiative, a new effort launched in April that serves according to the group’s website as “the eyes and ears” of Energy In Depth in the Marcellus.  Energy in Depth is the broader coalition of oil and gas producers that has largely spearheaded the campaign to defend and support natural gas exploration against charges that its practices — particularly fracking — are a risk to public health and the environment.

At the meeting, it turned out that changes had been made to the plans without the approval or knowledge of the board. Deletions were not noted on the documents but only additions and, apparently, the documents they printed out a few days earlier were different than the one accessed from the same link on the day of the meeting. The board claimed not to have made any changes and were at a loss to explain the discrepancies. But even so, the updates said, the town leaders refused to consider that having a gas industry lobbyist author your local land use laws may present a little conflict of interest.

Wow. I feel like I’ve been teleported into a scene from Erin Brockovitch. Is this shit even legal?

So, after the meeting came the attempts to sidle up to the bar and get the town board members to see reason over a friendly bottle of brewsky at the Dancing Cat Saloon.

As I’m sure you can imagine, there will be some cultural divides to surmount in this regard. I would hate the shit out of us too on principle.

A couple of the after-emails:

I told the Board member that I’ve been practicing accounting professionally for 30 years and not once in all that time had anyone ever presented me with a document for my review where the deletions had been removed.  I told him that removal was no accident and that such action could only be interpreted as an attempt at deception. Edwin protested that the Board had, in fact, been given the document with the deletions lined out.  I told him I found that even more alarming as that would suggest that the deception was intended by a Board member.

He opened his book and showed me the first draft that they received from the consultant.  As he thumbed through the pages, it became clear that the consultant had, in fact, removed the deletions, not the Board.  A bit of color drained from his face as he admitted that it appeared that the Board may not received a proper document for review.  I repeated that he needs to recognize and admit to himself that the Board is being snookered by a snake oil salesman.

and

I had an interesting chat with town supervisor Gary Mass last night at the bar. He was a bit rattled and in need of “a beer” after the meeting so I think we did get to him, but still fear they’re a bit blinded and naive about this whole thing. Among other comments I asked, “so what do you think of this Shepstone guy anyway,” to which he replied, “Shepstone is a great guy, really good guy and I don’t know where all those fancy folks got that information about him from.” My stomach sank at this admission and realized we may be in trouble. The board is small minded, stubborn and proud which is a terrible combination. It will take a massive effort to change their minds so we have to keep trying, but I’m a bit doubtful after reading his body language and other comments…If we can figure out a legal strategy, it may be our best bet.

Ruh roh. We are so #fracked.

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Moving on from the lecherous to the profane…

Yesterday brought the news that Brooklyn lifelonger Robert Sayegh, a noted children’s book writer (that’s me snorting), got kicked off a flight at Detroit Metro Airport yesterday for a small “what the fuck” utterance and is considering suing for pain and suffering.

LMAO and Holy Shit, I better watch out. I’ve never thought of Detroit as a hotbed of political correctness but you live and learn.

“It wasn’t like I was screaming like a maniac,” he lamented.

According to the Detroit News, a flight attendant overheard Sayegh saying to a passenger next to him, “What’s taking so f—–g long to close the overheard compartments?” The plane taxied to the runway before returning to the terminal, where police boarded and escorted Sayegh off.

Per the NY Post,  Sayegh couldn’t believe it. ‘I’m like, “Are they throwing me off the plane? This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever been through in my life. It’s embarrassing.”

But possibly lucrative.

And somebody tell me he lives in Park Slope. Nope, Cobble Hill. Our loss. I’m with you, dude!

***BREAKING NEWS UPDATE***

Rob just emailed to confirm that he grew up and still lives in Cobble Hill (Park Slope’s loss: we still have Anthony Weiner and Lil Kim) and, more importantly, that HE IS NOT SUING the airline after all. Because a) he’s bigger than that and/or b) they’ve paid him off for his silence. Also, he’s a REAL writer so cut the shit out of the “noted” cross-outs.

Hey thanks for ur interest, no I don’t think I’m going to pursue a lawsuit. I figured I’d just let it go away. I said an inappropriate word and he acted inappropriately. (Editor’s Note: HE? the flight attendant was a dude?) Hopefully this will be a wake up call for the airlines to train their flight attendants better so they can differentiate a real threat and an annoyed passenger. I grew up and live in Cobble Hill. I’m actually coming out with a children’s book this summer, and my other novel  (The Dividing Line) was just signed to an LOI. (Editor’s Note: Letter of Intent?) With Waterway Watermark Studios being built in Muskegon, MI.

 

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As I previously reported over at FIPS, The Park Slope Pavilion movie theater is sadly NOT going to be another Angelika. Under new ownership, it is likely to remain the same old poorly run shitbox it’s been right up until it is converted into condos circa 2020.

About a week after last month’s groundbreaking IN-FIPS-TIGATIVE report (attached below), The Brooklyn Paper gave the new Pavilion owners their good names back (Peter and Ben Kafash of Cinema Holdings) and the puff piece they’d been longing for when they came to a website called Fucked In Park Slope.

Park Slope’s Pavilion Cinema has finished its long-promised makeover and thorough scrubbing — and the curtain will be up in time for the big blockbuster Memorial Day weekend.

Wait a mo’, WHAT???? In a week, they went from what I’d seen to ready for prime time? I don’t think so. And sure enough, some other commenters (who had actually GONE to the theater) weighed in…

chris from windsor terrace says:
Uuummm, sorry Natalie but your report is all wrong. My kids and I sat in those dingy, nasty purple seats just this Friday. Kung Fu Panda 2 in auditorium #7 was the worst experience ever. Yuck!!! Never doing the Pavilion again.

V from windsor terrace says:
Wish this story was true but alas, we had the same old disgusting Pavillion experience today at the 3D Kung Fu Panda show- filthy seats, smelly theater, no sign of any renovation!

Salt from Parkslope says:
Wait ppl if you want a nice time wait for july

Following up like the gumshoe I am boast of being, I sent somebody else to do my dirty work (because I’m afraid of being disappeared if the Kafash boys ever catch sight of me again). Last Friday, my friend Emily took her life into her hands to see Kung Fu Panda Part II at the Pavilion. I asked her to let me know how the renovation was coming.

Her text report… “Ughh, this place is a pit!”

Also, when I just added the link to the Kafash boys company site, I couldn’t help but notice that they are in desperate need of a copy editor. Advertise has a D in it, for future reference.

My previous report…

The Pavilion Movie Makeover: An Expose

The Park Slope Pavilion has been taken over by Israeli Mossad agents or possibly a revival of Candid Camera, or Punk’d.

In exchange for swearing a blood oath of silence about the names of the buyers and their company, FIPS was awarded the scoop on the long-awaited, much hoped for and shockingly spectacular restoration lame-ass renovation of arguably THE WORST MOVIE THEATER IN NYC.

I headed over to the Pavilion (I dragooned my friend Tony to come with) for my “exclusive” grand tour with high(ish) hopes. Let’s face it, the Pavilion really has nowhere to go BUT up at this point.

The owner had already regaled me with details of the extensive renovation going on inside and out. I thought of heeding Jake Dobkin’s advice to don some kind of GIANT PROPHYLACTIC but Macy’s and Rite Aid didn’t have anything that would work. And I had been assured that the bedbug sitch has been taken care of, though I’m still waiting on some actual evidence to back this up.

Him: There will not be any bedbugs. We have already sanitized five auditoriums and are changing seats on four auditoriums. No bedbugs, I promise.

Me: Were there bedbugs found?

Him: No comment.

Me: Can you provide us with some sort of seal of bedbug freeness? An invoice from the exterminator? A company name so we can verify this?

Him: (Silence).

So began my acquaintance with the thickly-accented and hilariously cagey new owner, one of two brothers who are promising not only to show good, first-run movies and to eradicate bedbugs, but also to cure kids cancer.

My tour guide was so bent on getting good press that I could not for the life of me understand WHY THE FUCK he would come to a website called Fucked In Park Slope for his puff piece.

Let’s just say that the hard sell did not quite align with what my eyes were seeing. The place looked like even more of a shithole than usual, which is understandable because they’re under renovation except… why are they open in the midst of this mess? A question later echoed by a PARK SLOPE PATCH COMMENTER

At one point, our escort took Tony and I into a darkened theater and we only realized that there was actually a screening in progress when the owner turned the lights up and there were five or so pissed off moviegoers wondering why we were intruding upon the sanctity of their coming attractions. One woman demanded that they start them again.

While I cannot say that there is much call for rejoicing in the aisles at this point, I can tell you that:

Verily, the seats will soon no longer recline into the crotch of the moviegoer behind you. Yes, those purple, urine-soaked, bedbug-ridden, broken-down seats of old are getting replaced by “fine Corinthian black leather” seats—not pleather, not vinyl—but genuine, 100% leather.  Well, in four theaters anyway. The others, I was told, had seats replaced in the last few years by the previous owners. They did? Okay, I’ll take your word for it.

These are going out.

And these are going in.

I thought at one point if I didn’t “ooh” and “ahh” at the new color scheme (bordello red, chartreuse and sunray), the owner might just put his cigarette out on my forehead. It will be “bright, clean, and new,” claimed our tour guide.

Fine, whatever. I don’t really care. Just tell me there are no bedbugs and the bathrooms will be clean!

In addition to the seats and new paint, I was told the theater is getting new carpeting throughout.

  • The vinyl tile is being replaced with new vinyl tile.
  • The curtains are all being replaced with new ones.
  • The building exterior is getting spruced up (how I don’t exactly know).
  • The concession stand on the first floor is getting a makeover as are bathrooms.
  • And the owners are in negotiations on new fancy, replacement I-MAXish screens though that’s not a done deal.
  • The cafe will remain closed for the moment. The owners are seeking a deal for an as yet unnamed franchise concession to take it over.
  • Ticket prices will stay the same.
  • The work will be done hopefully by the end of June at which point there will be a grand re-opening. And you heard it hear first. The owners are hoping kids with cancer will be able to attend. Because, yes, they are philanthropists too:

Him: We will be making big donations to children’s cancer hospitals.

Me: Oh, that’s nice.

My friend Tony: St. Jude’s?

Him: All the hospitals. All will be revealed.

Us: Uh, okay.

Me (later): You mentioned donations to local children’s cancer care units? Can you elaborate with some details of who, why, and how much?

Him: Will inform later.

Me: Okay. Let me know.

Him (later): Donation will be send to children cancer hospitals in park slop (Brooklyn era) for kids with long term illness, to serve the community for their needs.

Me: WTF. I mean… Is there a dollar figure and name for these recipients and have they happened yet or are they hypothetical?

Him: Will be informed when that happen. Have a nice weekend.

Hmmm. I decided it would be prudent to look up the other theaters the company has recently taken over and found that each opening was accompanied by a feel-good article about the resurrection of said movie house. And comments like these.

And another theater:

and another one.

and this one.

Oh well. It was good while it lasted.

Here’s my final question. Does the Pavilion have any sprinklers, smoke detectors or fire alarms in place? According to a FEBRUARY PAVILION INFIPSTIGATION, orders from the Fire Department (FDNY) to install a sprinkler system were ignored by the previous theater owners. The landlord actually sued the cinema owners in 2008 to break the lease because they weren’t following fire safety codes.

In 2006, the owners put in an application to the DEPARTMENT OF BUILDINGS (DOB) “to install individually coded interior fire alarm system with public address.” The job was never signed off or closed out. Did the work actually happen? And then last August, AN APPLICATION WAS SUBMITTED TO THE DOB to install a sprinkler system. It was approved in February, right around the time of the sale. Again, the file is still open and the engineer listed hasn’t returned my call yet.

So, what’s happening with that? Silence from my owner dude on this one too. I’ve got to say, this issue gives me more agita than the bedbugs and I didn’t think that was possible. Can you really have shitloads of kids and people in a place of public assembly with nothing but steep stairways and NO SPRINKLERS or SMOKE DETECTORS????

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Thanks, GoGo

Oh yeah, this is how they ride in Gowanus!

Nobody’s going to fuck with this tough PT Cruiser wannabe and its bumper exterminating spikes, although… how is it that nobody’s sawed off one of the spikes and used it to key this DB’s lame-ass car? Way to coexist, bumper bully!

My 13-year-old car expert says its a Toyota Scion, which apparently is a car for young, dumbasses per the Edmunds review:

“Only a few years old, Scion is the youngest brand on the market — a fact that seems appropriate, given that it’s targeted at a very youthful demographic… They also coddled the youth market with flashy sound systems; Scion’s stereos are among the best in the economy-car segment.”

I’m putting the M.O. together: young, white guy from suburbs recently transplanted to Brooklyn.

A point of parallel parking etiquette from Dylan at Roadify: it’s not neighborly to leave half a car’s length on either end of your car or, for that matter, advisable given the potential consequences…

While it might look awesome, we strongly advise against spiking your bumper for the main reason that it’s really, really obvious when you ’love tap’ the car in front of you while parallel parking.

For an encore, might I suggest the latest in antitank grenade launchers…

 


Okay, it’s photos like this that make me want to kick Jonathan Safran Foer’s teeth in. From the scarf to the velvet jacket to the expression, he has future sexting scandal written all over him. It’s just too much!!! And I don’t even hate him when I walk by him on Garfield or see him at Connecticut Muffin.

Park Slope’s own vegan auteur and brownstoner makes another misbegotten foray into the interview circuit with an article today at the website Full Stop.

If you’ll recall, over at FIPS we did a memorable interview with Foer for our Profiles in Courage series. Memorable in how very bad it was…

Why do you live in Park Slope?

Probably for the same reasons Oscar the Grouch, Elmo and Big Bird do.

[FOLLOW-UP] Wait, on what basis do you suggest that Sesame Street is in Park Slope? And where are you going with this?

What’s your most favorite thing about Park Slope? Your least favorite?

Favorite thing is the people in my neighborhood: Bob, Maria, Gordon, Mr. Hooper. Nicest people in NY. Least favorite thing is 7th Avenue, which seems to be single-minded about losing all of its character as quickly as possible.

[FOLLOW-UP] You are aware that our audience is made up primarily of adult children, not actual ones, right? Perhaps you didn’t hear that Mr. Hooper has passed and Bob likes small boys (fine, I made that up). Is your point that PS is make-believe or that we are neighborly? Has nobody made fun of your proclivity for ironing your jeans to your face?

Favorite haunt in the hood?

Men’s room of the Grand Army Plaza Public Library. So many good conversations to be had there.

[FOLLOW-UP] Wow, I didn’t see that one coming. What type of conversations?

So, I was interested to read this new interview to catch up with my Sesame Street homie. The opening sentence told me everything I needed to know.

As Jonathan Safran Foer opened his eyes and stared up at the vaulted, 100 year old ceiling of his Park Slope brownstone, he thought, “Today I will not only impress my Jewish mother, but all the Jewish mothers everywhere.”

Oy. Insecure. Conceited. Is this man sending his junk over the Internets already? Forget I asked; I don’t wanna know.

Moving on through a day in JSF’s life, the article continued…

Today he would finally achieve his goal. Today he would put the finishing touches on the project he had been working on in his finished basement for the past 18 months: “Grantiful,” a robot that felt real human sadness and also submitted winning applications for grants.

“We are like aardvarks, sniffing up the anthills of our pasts,” thought Jonathan Safran Foer. “The tears are all the moments we spend alone, writing out letters to our dead loved ones, half-asleep.” But where was his butler?

“Samuels!” cried Jonathan Safran Foer. “Where is my French lentils and root vegetables baked in a phyllo crust served over a carrot cashew cream sauce with rainbow swiss chard and caramelized onions!?” Jonathan Safran Foer ate this every morning, and he was growing hysterical, and felt he was being crushed under all the morally acceptable meals he was not eating.

Okay, I admit it. I’m lost. A paragraph in and I have no fucking idea what these two are talking about. Help me out here: he built a robot butler?

On getting his greatest wish:

Jonathan Safran Foer does not look back on more radical, younger days with a bit of fancy — no, since he was but a child he always wanted to be a nebbish Brooklyn author, who could grace the NY Times Op-ed section on a whim.

That’s it, I don’t know if I can read anymore without barfing. And Samuels hasn’t brought me my breakie and coffee yet.

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I’m feeling like a regular muckraker right about now, although Gothamist et al would have realized soon enough that the NYPD wasn’t exactly quick off the mark on our roving rapist manhunt.

I’ve actually been meaning to blog about this for a while and then kind of forgot about it until I saw that the cops had fanned out all over the airwaves and NYC blogosphere yesterday.

Yes, per Park Slope Patch on April 26,

More than a month after a horrifying rape attempt took place on 16th Street, outraged residents of the block say cops did little to investigate the crime.

“The day of the attack, police left as quick as they came,” said Donald Harrington, 44, a 16th Street resident who witnessed the attack from his second floor window and ran out after the would-be rapist. “Then the police didn’t show up until the press came, a month later.”

“I’m not at all happy with the way police handled this,” added neighbor Jim Gallagher, 52. “This guy is still walking around out there.”

A video of attack — which took place on March 20 at 11:30 p.m. between Fourth and Fifth avenues — became widely circulated last week, after a neighbor shared a video of the incident taken by a stationary security camera on his house.

So, yeah, in mid MARCH, a harrowing video captured the attempted rape of a woman on 16th Street in Park Slope. But nobody heard about it until mid APRIL, when it finally came to light after outraged residents of the block went to the press. And the police didn’t do anything about it until NOW.

Great job, Brownie.

Until a year or so ago, I actually thought that the Brooklyn criminal justice system functioned along the lines of Law and Order repeats, which accounted for the sum total of my exposure until that point. I so wish I could tell you how I come by my up-close  knowledge of just how unbelievably screwed up the system is round here but let’s just say, nobody in my family has a criminal or an arrest record ANYMORE.

My takeaway: you actually can get arrested and prosecuted for serious crimes without any investigation or evidence whatsoever before or during and a mountain to show the allegations to be complete and utter bullshit. Something is very, very wrong at the local precincts and the Brooklyn DA’s office. They are fucking morons too.

Besides, apparently when there IS evidence (like say, a surveillance video of your rapist), the police will ignore it anyway. Until the press tells them they shouldn’t do that. And NOW, Ray Kelly and Internal Affairs are going to look into whether the officers who ignored that tape did wrong.

So, my faith is in short supply and yours should be too. As my Sicilian grandpa used to say, “watch where you putta yo feet.”

 

 

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Oh, come on!

I was done with this whole Weiner story. I really was. I was on to squirrels on the Key Food shelves, Met’s desperate need for a makeover, traffic on 8th Avenue.

And then I saw this morning that Weiner (pronounced WEE-ner per National Journal bio above) hails from… yes, Park Slope.

From a Brooklyn Paper story last August…

The 45-year-old lawmaker grew up in Park Slope, on Sixth Street near Prospect Park, the son of lawyer Mort Weiner, and Midwood HS teacher Fran Weiner. When he’s not shouting down colleagues, Weiner loves to tell a story of how he cut his political teeth in Miss Noonan’s third-grade class at PS 39 on Sixth Avenue between Seventh and Eighth streets.

It was class election season and Weiner ran for vice president. Passionate even then, the budding pol gave a stirring speech about how the school cafeteria served fishsticks too often.

“I thought I did an excellent job” on the speech, he told the New York Sun in 2005 — but he ended up losing to his challenger — who upped the young Weiner by handing out lollipops to the whole class.

Why am I even surprised?

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