From The New York Shitty Inbox: Special Earth Day Edition
On April 16, 2009 Kat wrote:
Dear Heather,
I’m a fellow Greenpointer who has been reading your blog ever since Gawker linked to it back in 2006-ish. I always wished I could send you a tip, but I didn’t have any good ones — until yesterday morning, when I saw that the students of PS 110 had launched their very own environmental awareness campaign in McGolrick Park.
It is… interesting.
I took a couple pictures and wrote about it here, if you are interested in either reading it or sharing it with your devoted audience.
Warmest regards from the GPT…
Naturally I pointed and clicked my way over to Pink India Ink. I would recommend you do the same. For those of you who are disinclined to do so the crux of my colleague’s editorial was as follows:
- The placement of this sign is not conducive to getting the word out.
- In the battle between dog piss and the trees of McGolrick Park the trees do appear to be winning.
- There are other, better ways to get children engaged in the environment.
Today I decided to swing by McGolrick to see this sign and the tree it graces for myself.
In my guesstimation this missive is located approximately six or seven feet from the ground— well out of eye shot of even the most statuesque dog owner. And any breed of dog— no matter how large— that comes to mind. But I suppose it doesn’t really matter as I have yet to encounter a canine however bright, that can read. Or can they?
The sign appears to have received a little “water damage”. Was it at the behest of an April shower or a golden shower from a particularly well-endowed pup? Only the tree knows for certain and it does not appear to be talking. If it could, however, I suspect it would say that it doesn’t care much for having four thumb tacks stuck into its body. But this is only an educated guess.
Regardless, it did get me to thinking about how bad dog urine is for our leafy friends so I did a little Googling. Here’s what The Straight Dope has to say about the subject:
…It’s hard to believe you’ve gotten through life without noticing that dog urine can cause grass, shrubs, and other plant life to turn brown and wither. This charming phenomenon is called “urine burn.” It’s caused by the ammonia and urea contained in doggie water (and, for that matter, in the urine of all mammals). Urea and ammonia are both good sources of nitrogen, an important fertilizer. But they’re simple compounds and they break down so quickly that the lawn, hedge, or whatever basically ODs on the stuff. Similarly, if you use too much inorganic nitrogen fertilizer, you’ll get “fertilizer burn.” The urine also makes the soil too acidic. The only cure is to dig up the ruined patch and reseed.
Well, you say, will just one dose wreck the local flora? It depends. One dose is certainly enough to do strange things to the grass. On a lawn where dogs have had free run you’ll see numerous funny-looking tufts where the grass is much taller and greener than elsewhere, having been fertilized by a passing canine. No big deal, you say–mowing the lawn will level things out. Here and there, however, the tufts may consist of a brown patch with lush growth around the fringes. The lush part got the optimum dose of fertilizer while the brown part got too much of a good thing. Mowing is not going to help this problem; time to get out the spade.
Chances are the tufts are the work of female dogs, which like to do their thing out in the open. Male dogs, by contrast, prefer some vertical landmark, such as a tree or shrub. These are generally hardier than grass, and one jolt won’t kill them. But you seldom get just one jolt. Male dogs use urine to mark their territories, and they like to return to the same spot again and again. In addition, when other dogs smell a freshly irrigated canine boundary marker, they often feel compelled to make a contribution of their own…
Ok. So we have established dog urine is in fact very bad for our leafy friends. But as Cecil Adams also points out trees are a lot hardier than grass. It takes more than the occasional gold shower to kill them. And taking into account that I have yet to see 101 Dalmations employ McGolrick Park as their pissoir of choice I have to confess: while hardly indifferent, I am not terribly concerned.
But it does make me wonder about numerous bipeds I have seen who have pressed this public space into service as an al fresco commode/vomitorium. Hows does human waste affect plant life, you ask? I did a little research. What I found was surprising. Per an article from EZine @rticles entitled “Using Human Urine As Liquid Fertilizer”:
OK, so are you over the shock now??? In the not so distant past, we didn’t have the luxury of having a small room in the house where we could flush away our number ones and twos. But did you ever wonder how we managed before the water closet? Not that I want to get into the history of it, but let’s just say that before the times of our current throw-away society, people thought of multiple uses for just about everything.
Well maybe you didn’t know that human urine is the fastest acting, most excellent source of Nitrogen, Phosphorous, Potassium and some trace elements. Not only that, but we all have a constant, year round supply of it and it’s free! There’s not a lot of effort involved in creating this wonderful organic liquid fertilizer.
Some men I know are more than happy to oblige a tree, bush or lawn (out of view, of course)…
What are the advantages of using urine as an organic liquid fertilizer?
- If you’re not flushing this valuable liquid down the loo, you are reducing your water consumption – good for the environment and your pocket
- You’ll be reducing the amount of sewerage runoff
- There’ll be less nutrients in our waterways
- Urine as a liquid fertilizer is available in an ideal chemical form for plants to use
- Gardening costs are less as your liquid fertilizer is free
- It is readily available all year round and there are no transportation costs
Just so that you know, fresh human urine is sterile (unless there is a urinary tract infection: this urine should not be used) and so free from bacteria.
I recommend that you dilute urine to 10-15 parts water to 1 part urine for application on plants in the growth stage. Dilute to 30-50 parts water to 1 part urine for use on pot plants as they are much more sensitive to fertilizers of any kind.
Trees, shrubs and lawn should cope well without dilution. Withhold the use of urine liquid fertilizer on all food plants at least two weeks before harvesting. Apply under fruiting plants, not directly on foliage.
Don’t use urine older than 24 hours (t…t…t…TWENTY FOUR HOURS?!? — Ed. Note) on your plants as the urea turns into ammonia and will burn your plants. If it’s not fresh (*shudder* — Ed. Note), add it to your compost heap. Adding undiluted human urine to your compost heap will help heat it up quickly as it is an excellent activator and will add to the final nutrient value.
As far as antibiotics, vitamin supplements and other medications go, yes they will end up in your urine, but in such minute quantities that I believe to be negligible especially when it is diluted.
So put this excellent source of free liquid fertilizer to good use in your garden, rather than add to the burden that we as humans cause to our environment.
So there have you. It just goes to show you learn something new every day.
Before reading the aforementioned article I thought the above chap was merely a drunk dude taking a piss in a plant bed on McGuinness Boulevard. Now I know better: this man is, in fact, an eco-warrior. What’s more, knowing all too well the commonly-held affection for public urination here in the 11222, Greenpoint could arguably be the “greenest” neighborhood in all Brooklyn! Who knew? In any case I suspect I speak for many when I say that I can only hope P.S. 110 will incorporate my new discovery into their curriculum.
Happy Earth Day Weekend!
Miss Heather
Dung Of The Day: Fun With Urban Blight
FRANKLIN STREET, 12:45 p.m.
I am growing weary of this, Paul.
<3 Greenpoint.
WEST STREET, 1:00 p.m.
Oh…
my…
GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Miss Heather
Divine Dog Shit Intervention: Bushwick Style
Filed under: Brooklyn, Bum Shit, Bushwick, Dog Shit, Dog Shit Signage, Dung of the Day, Other Shit
Churches give me the creeps. The tradition in many faiths is religion runs along matriarchal lines. My father is an avowed atheist, my mother was raised Methodist. My grandmother (my mother’s mother) tried to inculcate the Calvinist vision into my person.
It failed miserably. Probably because I do want to slave for a salvation I will probably not achieve. If god has already elected his own why should I bother? Besides, the Sunday School classes were downright stupid.*
In the spirit of good faith (and acknowledging the arguments set forth on both sides)— I reached a moral compromise: agnostic. But when I witnessed what I saw on George Street yesterday it made my agnosticism shudder with self-loathing Calvinistic doubt.
This is the Cathedral of Joy. It may not look very joyous but it is indeed a church and its mission is to save souls…
and fight dog shit.
This is a church. Have some respect for the house of the Lord. Please (unintelligible) or curb your dog. Thank you.
I found two turds and a pair of pink panties in front of this establishment. Across the street was another matter.
Thirteen turds. One for each apostle plus one. A veritable Last Supper of dog shit (Judas Iscariot included)!
My conclusion: the fear of/hand of god is motivating dog owners to take their shit elsewhere. Unfortunately in this case it is across the street.
But it is a start!
Perhaps the City of New York will take heed of this novel tactic?
Miss Heather
*Although it could arguably be good job training for corporate shills: rote memorization and repetition. Methodism makes for good stenographers. Regurgitating what has been said accurately without the onus of knowing what it means. No disrepect to stenographers. You work harder than Methodists do.
East Williamsburg Photos Du Jour: Meet The Graham Avenue Meat
Filed under: Area 51, Bum Shit, Bushwick, Dog Shit, Dung of the Day, Other Shit, Vomit, Williamsburg
Meat on the inside…
and WTF on the out.
When Mr. Heather got home from work I asked him what he thought the above-depicted thing was. He said (in his unprofessional opinion) it was vomit from a dog who had eaten sausage with a lot of red dye in it (because he has seen this happen before). All I know is whoever (or WHATEVER) discharged this (one of the most revolting things I have ever seen in New York City— and this is really saying something) should probably visit a doctor…
or an exorcist.
Miss Heather
P.S.: I puked a little inside while writing this post.
Reader Contribution Du Jour: G Is For…
Filed under: Bum Shit, Crosstown Local, Dung of the Day, Greenpoint Magic, Long Island City, Other Shit
Gee, that’s REALLY FUCKING GROSS.
This evening I received a most curious email from a gentleman named Angel. It was entitled “A step up from Dog Shit, as seen on the G on Court Sq.” and it read as follows:
Here’s my 2 cents for NewYorkShitty.com before 08 comes to an end…
Me and my family saw this (and laughed hard as I took out the camera without hesitation) on our way into the first G car on Court Sq. (headed towards Greenpoint of course) First thing that came to my mind. “This is so NewYorkShitty.com material”
Intrigued, I clicked my way over to Gubatron’s flickr page. The following is what awaited my delectation.
I have to confess: this image gave me goosebumps. They were not of the warm and fuzzy “I just had my first kiss” variety. Rather, it was more like the onset of a case of stomach flu —which I suspect is what the person who left this, the most piquant and direct critique of Crosstown Local service I have ever beheld, was probably experiencing. What’s more, it is one of the most disgusting things I have ever seen on the G train. And for the record, that includes two subway masturbators and this.
WAY TO GO GUBATRON!
The next time, dear readers, you get angry because you didn’t get a seat while commuting on our very own G train think of the above image. Sometimes it’s just better to stand.
Miss Heather
Photo Credit: Gubatron
Labor Day At The Nature Walk
Filed under: Bum Shit, Dung of the Day, Greenpoint Magic, Long Island City, Other Shit
Most New Yorkers like to go out of town over Labor Day weekend. I don’t; I stay home and savor the silence. I sojourned to City Island on Saturday and did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING on Sunday.* When I got up yesterday morning, Labor Day, I asked myself:
What do I want to do today?
My “little voice” said:
Go to the park!
I have learned to trust my “little voice”. So I threw on some shorts and sunblock and proceeded to the closest park: the Newtown Creek Nature Walk. I was hoping to find a discarded rubber or get some nice photographs of the skyline. I was disappointed in regards to the previous but I got the latter…
(I am contributing a big phat juicy print of this to the Greenpoint 100!) and more.
Someone clearly experienced some serious gastronomical distress and saw fit to use the Nature Walk as a toilet. He (or she) is neither the first nor the last person to use Greenpoint in such a manner: Newtown Creek is the pissoir for the masses. When some jocular he-man ties off a used rubber in Murray Hill and flushes it down the toilet… guess who gets it? We do! Go Team Greenpoint!
Thank you, cum again!
But I digress…
I am guessing the above stick was employed as a primitive form of toilet paper. After taking the above photograph (using my cell phone to establish a sense of scale) I discovered a number of other revolting things at the Nature Walk. I carefully documented them and called the “authorities”. Hilarity ensued.
I initially planned to do a series of “a minute in (insert neighborhood/place here)”. But after experiencing this level of ASS** I decided a comparison of Gantry Park (in luxury waterfront condoville, Long Island City) and the Nature Walk (in decidedly NOT luxury waterfront condoville, Greenpoint) would be a more appropriate use of this footage. The lesson here (as best as I can comprehend it) is: if a neighborhood acquiesces to having an ENORMOUS luxury enclave on her waterfront (READ: Long Island City) said residents get a nice park. Otherwise, you can eat look at shit.
Miss Heather
*Save a rather rancorous post about Sarah “June Cleaver/Coupon Clipper” Palin getting the Vice Presidential nomination. I felt sort of bad about calling her a “bimbo” so I Googled “alaska” “bimbo” “v.p.” Here’s what I found:
Clearly I was not alone when I made the assessment that Ms. Palin is, in fact, a bimbo. Nonetheless my inner feminist was upset. She asked me:
Would you have called Sarah Palin a bimbo if she was not a woman?
My answer:
Yes. We, as a nation, got our first bhimbo for Veep in 1988. His name was Dan Quayle.
And with that reply my “inner feminist” vanished in a puff of logic.
I was delighted to learn that Ms. Palin is against sex education. What could school possibly teach her daughter Bristol? It is pretty clear that Bristie pulled herself up by her own boot straps and figured out the fundamental mechanics on her own (with a little help from a friend). Now she is going to be a teenage mother! Bristol “Jamie Lynn Spears” Palin should be teaching the rest of us!
**The man on the phone asked what county this was in. After some hesitation I said “Kings” (Newtown Creek does, after all, straddle two: Kings and Queens). Then he asked me what FUCKING CITY I lived in! I said Greenpoint. Then I pointed out that Greenpoint is part of Brooklyn. And Brooklyn is part of New York City. At one point my polite (if utterly useless) phone pal apologized and confessed he was in the Adirondacks had no knowledge of New York City geography. With civil servants like this who needs enemies?
Crapped And Tapped
Filed under: Bed-Stuy, Bum Shit, Dung of the Day, Long Island City, Other Shit, Queens
I have a predilection for documenting shit: be it human, canine or sub-standard construction. I also have a fascination for public pay phones rendered useless by human abuse. But alas of late I have become jaded.
This paltry specimen from Bed Stuy didn’t impress me. The receiver is gone, someone lost his shirt, yada, yada, yada…
I wanted MORE.
I got it...
courtesy of Queensboro Plaza. I can’t honestly say I will miss this eyesore. But the construction fences demarcating what is arguably one of the UGLIEST BUILDINGS in New York City leaves much to the imagination…
and the incontinent. It reeks.
Note the happy people gracing this pay phone kiosk. They’re all “thumbs up”— not unlike our fearless leader. Neither they nor King George the Second (fighting the war on terror overseas) would want to pick up— much less use— the phone contained therein.
Which is worse: a crapped phone* or a tapped phone? Go to Queens Plaza and figure it out for yourself.
Miss Heather
*That is shit. Trust me. How the hell they got it ON the phone is beyond me.
Little Murders: Meeting Elliott Gould
On Friday night I finally saw Little Murders for the first time. At B.A.M. with a very entertaining Q & A session afterward with Elliott Gould. It was a most enjoyable evening and I found Mr. Gould’s frank and irreverent (if esoteric) repartee very refreshing.
I had been admonished by my buddy, Larry da Junkman, that Mr. Gould can be quite cantankerous in person. This, his, assessment was based on interviews he saw from the 1970’s. What I saw on August 8, 2008— 38 years later— was a person who had no time for fools but openly admitted his own tomfoolery. Gould struck me as being a great big teddy bear. Mind you, you my idea of a “big teddy bear” is a little different than most people; I learned warm and fuzziness from my father. A man who has been kicked out of a furniture store for listing William Jefferson Clinton as a reference to rent a bed. But I digress.
Mr. Gould has rather piquant wit —and more importantly, he was not reluctant to use it. When one person in the audience asked him if Little Murders glorified the shooting of a police officer he replied the movie was satire and that the leader of our country would fill Alan Arkin’s role quite beautifully. That bon mot with quickly topped with this one:
You’re the expert taking notes. I’m just the artist.
The above quip is one I will undoubtedly use quite often moving forward. For this reason (and a few others*) I wanted to express my gratitude. What’s more, I had an opportunity. A window, if you will. It was announced at Friday’s event that Mr. Gould agreed to another Q & A session at the 3:00 p.m. viewing of The Long Goodbye the following day. Mr. Heather loves this film so he bought a ticket. And in so doing he became my emissary.
I had to work Saturday. Before I left all the preparations were made. All Mr. Heather had to do was take the envelope I prepared, pick up the 8×10 print I ordered (of this), insert it into said envelope and give it to Mr. Gould. 5:00 p.m. rolled by. Nothing. As did 6:00 p.m. Then finally the call came.
Mr. Heather: The package has been delivered.
Miss Heather: AND?!?
When we met later in downtown Brooklyn I finally got a straight answer.
Miss Heather: So what happened?
Mr. Heather: I told him that my wife was in an art show last year and wanted to give him something.
Miss Heather: Okay.
Mr. Heather: I handed him the picture and he said:
Oh, that’s shit. Does she want me to autograph this?
Mr. Heather: I said no, she just wanted you to have it.
Miss Heather: Good.
Mr. Heather: Then he asked Is this horse shit? I said no, we think it was human or canine.
It was at this point in our conversation that the Mister and I encountered this on Bond Street.
Miss Heather: They put out cat litter but I don’t think this came from a feline. Is that red stuff catsup or blood?
Mr. Heather: I wouldn’t taste it to find out.
The End
Miss Heather
*Among them:
- M.A.S.H. is one of my favorite movies. EVER.
- Anti-heroes have always been my heroes. Hey, I’m a 70’s child!
Hey Joe
(Someone in the Garden Spot really, really does not like you.)
Yesterday afternoon I ran errands. Among my tasks was purchasing household cleaning products. Let’s just say one of our cats decided to use our bedroom as a vomitorium, I will spare you the details except to say it was quite disgusting.
As anyone in the know will tell you, any and all consumer products in Greenpoint are to be found in one place: Manhattan Avenue, so I headed there without delay. When I reached the Greenpoint Furniture store I noticed a man standing in front of the door. Well, noticed isn’t exactly the right word— HEARD is much more like it. Imagine this, if you will, being bellowed in the biggest Brooklyn honk imaginable:
You know what you are Joe? You’re a fuggin’ piece of shit! That’s what! A fuggin’ piece of shit!
Over and over. I turned to the man next to me, gave him my best “wtf” look and said:
It’s always healthy to let your anger out. What’s more, if I ever meet a guy named Joe I will know he is a fucking piece of shit.
He laughed.
I then went back about my business, as did my fellow bystander and the man who hates Joe.
Several hours later after I accomplished all the chores on my “to do” list I decided to head home via my favorite thoroughfare: McGuinness Boulevard. I have extolled upon the magical qualities of the street named after Greenpoint’s favorite alderman many times. I will do so yet once again here: McGuinness Boulevard is the undiluted essence of all things Greenpoint. It is the very soul of the Garden Spot. Some of the most interesting things I have ever seen have been found on this boulevard. Yesterday was no exception.
This mural is located on Newton Street. It originally read “diva”. As you can see, someone has seen fit to make a few annotations.
I really like this shot. Methinks this image should be on a greeting card. Seriously.
Not since high school have I seen hatred meted out in such a passionate and heated fashion. This person is seriously angry. If any of you are wondering what that brown stuff is, use your imagination. If that fails, here’s a clue: read the url for this web site.
You know, I cannot help but respect someone who would do this. I do not condone their behavior, mind you. I simply believe it is good policy to have a healthy respect for people who have no qualms whatsoever about picking up shit off the sidewalk and smearing it on a wall. Even I wouldn’t do that. If you’re out there reading this Joe, take my advice: stay away from McGuinness Boulevard.
Miss Heather
Weekend Round-Up: Springtime In Greenpoint
The first breath of spring weather last weekend was greeted by my fellow Greenpointers in good form:
- 3/31/08: a toilet is left on my block
- 4/4/08, 11:40 P.M.: someone sees fit to do #2 in said porcelain throne using what appears to be legal paper as toilet paper. (Not that I am complaining, mind you. Someone deposited a hefty helping of diarrhea on my stoop two weeks prior. The fact someone used this privy gives me solace that there is some semblance of decency in this city.)
- 4/5/08, 2:30 P.M.: I saw a drunk chap sipping from a can of Foster’s Lager with a straw
- 4/5/08, 7:00 P.M.: I saw a chihuahua in a dress
- 4/5/08, 8:30 P.M.: I saw a VERY inebriated dude getting loaded (no pun intended) into an ambulance in front of a liquor store on Manhattan Avenue. It took four EMS workers to do it.
Springtime in Greenpoint is something to behold, folks. I have experienced eight of them and have yet to be disappointed.
Case in point:
Something about the warm weather brings out the (already) impish nature of my Garden Spot brethren.
Note the use of tense, e.g.: Karen eats dick whereas Lenny ate dick.
As did “Fuser”. The gentleman (whose shoulder can be seen in the above photo, a MTA employee no less) was initially alarmed by my shutterbugging. When I explained to him that this was the third instance of someone “eating dick” I had seen in as many days in Greenpoint he left me alone.
Go figure.
Miss Heather
P.S.: Oh yeah, if you haven’t read about it already some guys managed to drive into Newtown Creek at 3:00 a.m. this morning.
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