The Unofficial Community Board 1 Yahoo Group, Revisited
Filed under: 11206, 11211, 11222, Culture War, East Williamsburg, East Williamsburg Brooklyn, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Williamsburg, Williamsburg Brooklyn
Some of you might recall that I recently posted an item about one intrepid north Brooklynite posting invitations/solicitations for a “Fuckerware Party” she is organizing (such as the item above) on the unofficial Community Board 1 Yahoo group. Well, someone has finally voiced her objections to this practice:
Hi (excised),
I can not speak for everyone but I don’t think these solicitation emails are appropriate for this list serve.
Thanks
Follows are the fireworks which ensued:
How will this end, you ask? Only time will tell. While not on par with someone soliciting couples and single moms for “soft swinging” on the Park Slope Parents Group I’ll take what I can get. Get your popcorn ready folks, my little voice says this is going to get interesting!
UPDATE, 4:48 p.m.; After some trepidation I tendered my two cents:
Far be it for me to be squeamish about such stuff— or the voice of reason, for that matter. Nonetheless I suspect the real issue at hand is using this forum as a means of free advertising. Objections to this practice have been raised in the past. Therefore it would strike me as only being logical— and democratic— if the members of this community forum (which, it should be noted, includes our elected officials, the various police department(s) which serve our community and members of Community Board 1 proper) create a policy for this kind of thing.
Just a thought.
And here is the rebuttal I received:
And last, but hardly least:
Won’t someone please think of the sex toys?
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Day Ender: Welcome To Greenpoint
Filed under: 11222, Culture War, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, The Natives Are Getting Restless
From India Street.
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Photo Du Jour: Special F*ck The Man Edition
Filed under: 11222, Culture War, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, The Natives Are Getting Restless
From India Street.
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Day Ender: Glass Half Empty
Filed under: 11206, Bushwick, Bushwick Brooklyn, Culture War, East Williamsburg, East Williamsburg Brooklyn, Subway
From the Morgan Avenue stop of the L.
Miss Heather
New York Shitty Exclusive: Musings of a Tree Twatifier
Filed under: 11211, 11222, Advanced Life Forms, Culture War, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Williamsburg, Williamsburg Brooklyn
Ever wondered about the person who has seen fit to “vaginalize” a number of the trees in Greenburg (including the above specimen)? I know I have. I’ve been documenting these for some time. Needless to say you, dear readers, can imagine my delight when I was put in contact with the person behind the pinkification! I sent him— yes, it’s a guy— a list of questions. Follows are “Dutch Masterson’s” answers!
Miss Heather: Although I probably have some intuitive understanding as why you twatify trees (I put rubber tits on stuff) I suspect the question on most of my readers’ minds is why?
Dutch Masterson:
ultimately, i suppose i “twatify” tree knots because i’m an asshole. who am i to remind us where we come from? in the same way an obsessed mathematician may be surrounded by pi, i feel that i’m haunted by the twat..pussy is everywhere.. the conch at the beach, the papaya at the fruit stand, the flowers in the park.. everybody knows this. but in the same way one may pass the bum on the corner each day without realizing his penchant for poetry, we constantly dismiss nature’s reminder that we are born from the same sputum and with that spewed from the same hole.. i’m not going to lie, i may be a naughty trickster and a pervert, but at the same time i’m hoping that my tree twats may snatch someone’s attention while walking the dog or getting drunk in the park. encouraging them to stop and smell the roses and reflect that the tree, the dog, the bum on the corner, we’re all in this shit together harmoniously or not.. and maybe, just maybe such a reflection will shepherd someone into appreciating the song of the bum or better yet into calling their mother..
MH: (somewhat related to #1) When did you have your “eureka” moment, e.g.; said to yourself “I am going to provocatively paint tree knots”?
DM:
i believe my “eureka” moment came to me when i happened upon the perfect tree twat juxtaposed before a nike “just do it” advertisement while eating strawberry yogurt. just kidding.. i had been pondering the mischievous plot for some time and like many of my projects, i just let it sit there simmering on the back burner, bubbling with delay..it wasn’t until i joked about it to my special lady over drinks that i started to get things cooking. i’m pretty sure it was her calling me a pussy (if i didn’t “just do it”) that prompted me. so in effect, my girlfriend was the nike poster and irish whiskey the strawberry yogurt. initially we planned on painting the pussies together. pretty in pink punks in love. she actually did the first one, an adorable little cherry begging to be popped on metropolitan ave; right outside the art store where we picked up the pigment.
MH: I have seen your work at McCarren Park, Bedford Avenue and McGuinness Boulevard. Each of these tree twats has its own distinctive personality. The one at McCarren Park is sweet and petite, as is the one on Bedford. The one on McGuinness Boulevard, however, is at least three feet tall and slightly menacing. What is your criteria? What does it take for a tree to be worthy of twatification? What do you think of the attached example? Would it pass muster? Please elaborate.
DM:
i appreciate all pussies. even the ugliest twat is a beautiful thing. when it comes to arboreal vaginas, it’s about quality not quantity. it has to speak to me in some way. it has to beg for it. i’m not gonna just slap some paint on any old twat just like i’m not going to fuck or make love to any girl just because she has a vagina. you have to be selective in life and choose wisely. i guess the paramount criteria for me risking making friends over cheese sandwiches in the clink are as follows:
- location, location, location – the whole reason i’m doing this is to generate thought and conjure up conversation. that doesn’t work very well if nobody sees my handiwork. so major avenues and high volume pedestrian pathways are key to stealing one’s attention. on that note, i will admit that i do exercise some moral code in that i have avoided the pussies outside grade schools and churches. that probably originates from latent guilt instilled from a catholic upbringing and i hate that.
- like i said, to be worthy of ‘twatification’, the pussy simply has to speak to me. there’s got to be something unique about it’s personality that compels me. for obvious reasons, the knot hole should definitely resemble a twat or sometimes butt hole. i am predisposed to calling attention to the sweet petites, but that’s not going to stop me from giving some praise to the ghastly axe wound because it does take all kinds of pussies to make the world go round.
MH: What can we look forward to— tree twatwise— in the future?
DM:
my tree twat project is at a current standstill 🙁 i’m a distracted mess busied with the burdens of being a jerk of all trades. there’s all kinds of secret projects going on and i’m at a point in my life where i need to prioritize. although dizzy within the swirling figure 8 of my master plans, i’m sure they’ll come around again to incite a chuckle or piss off a poor soul. and most likely sometime around the conclusion of a probationary period i somehow gotten myself into as a result of unrelated mischief making. there are indeed plenty of pussies out there pleading to be pinked. and i’m sure i’ll soon catch myself smirking with a coffee cup of paint thinking of this very conversation. i can’t help but to recall overhearing a street urchin’s rant on avenue A one night where he was chanting his take on the Exorcist script: “the power of pussy compels me” and i have to laugh when i think that it is without question the power of pussy that compels me.
So there have you.
Miss Heather
Reader Contribution Du Jour: Which Kind of Greenpointer Are You?
Filed under: 11222, Advanced Life Forms, Culture War, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic
Today I was experiencing a case of the winter doldrums so I opted to go for a little walk. I’m glad I did because I bumped into my buddy Seth. I have not seen him in awhile so I was curious to see what he was up to. As were walking he asked me if I had seen his “chart”. I told him I had not. Over coffee at Franklin Street Pizza he drew it for me. Here it is.
It is Seth’s desire to do a public presentation of the above data. I for one think this is a splendid idea (because I simply cannot do it justice). Any takers out there?*
Miss Heather
*Community Board 1, perhaps?
Quicklink: This Is Why We’re Angry
Filed under: 11101, 11211, 11222, Culture War, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Laurel Hill, Laurel Hill Queens, Maspeth, Maspeth Queens, New York City, Queens, Ridgewood, Ridgewood Queens, Sheepshead Bay, Sheepshead Bay Brooklyn, Sunnyside, Sunnyside Queens, Williamsburg, Williamsburg Brooklyn, Woodside, Woodside Queens
This item comes courtesy of my friend at Sheepshead Bites. Please give it a read as the content makes it all too clear how some neighborhoods get more diligent treatment than others. On that note I am going to crib— with credit— Sheepshead Bites work so as to illustrate the difference between my street and Bloomberg’s.
“Patience” my ass. This B62 bus (and numerous others) parked on our thoroughfares are not only inconveniences which afflict working Brooklynites but Long Island Cityites as well. But why should that matter? We do not live in Manhattan.
Well done, Bloomturd!
Care to juxtapose your block with Bloomies? Send me a 300 by 400 pixel jpeg and I’ll do the rest!
missheather (at) thatgreenpointblog (dot) com.
Miss Heather
Photo Credits: The photo of Bloomberg’s block was taken by BrooklynQ, the blogger behind WhiteTrashBBQ, a NYC barbecue website.
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