Greenpoint
Lorven Pharmacy
Culture on the Cheap
A novel approach to poop prevention
After living in Greenpoint for seven plus years I have become a connoisseur of crap. There’s as much of (sh)it to be found here as there are people who loathe it. The latter usually make their anti-shit sentiments known in the starkest imaginable terms. Threats of violence against those who choose not to ‘scoop the poop’ are commonplace here.
This is why today’s example of dog shit signage (from Meeker Avenue just off Kingsland) is remarkable: it makes no direct physical threats whatsoever. My man on Meeker took a much more subtle and cunning approach.
I have heard of hallowed ground. Stevie Wonder sang about reaching Higher Ground. But intoxicated ground?!? That’s only to be had in Greenpoint, kids!
We Greenpointers are a very robust and jocular lot. We envision the glass to be half-full versus half-empty. Since that very nasty (and very unremediated) oil spill ain’t going anywhere anytime soon, why not use it to deter another form of pollution?
Miss Heather
What would Mike do?
What a week! Wanting to do nothing more than to while away the remains of this shitty day by culling some particularly obnoxious Curbed comments (to make Mad Libs), I discovered a cache of nasty directed at yours truly instead.
Like this turd posted by “Anonymous” regarding this post on Curbed:
Marion – Apparently, you don’t know how to read. If Miss Heather were forced to say something nice about Greenpoint, I think her jaw would lock up. Greenpoint has some of the most beautiful streetscapes in New York City. What does she focus her camera on?…..pictures of dog shit. Case closed! (I s’pose this person hasn’t seen my Flickr page. Case closed. —Ed. Note.)
Or this bad boy posted (once again) by “Anonymous” on The Gowanus Lounge:
Gee, what happened to all you liberal muliticulturalists!
You wanted all of the turd world to come here so they could cheaply reno your great apt deals, now you got it. SEE YA (I’m leaving). Enjoy the jungle you’ve turned NYC into.
I don’t know about you, but “Anonymous” sure seems to get around. Sort of like a bedbug. An Internet bedbug. Any person who has this much free time to pound out angry and half-baked comments on someone else’s blog (versus using his energy for a constructive purpose— like creating his own blog to spout his bullshit) probably doesn’t get out much. Though the previous may not be such a bad thing now that I think about it.
Nonetheless, given the previous slanderous statements I feel compelled to reassert my stand on things gentrified and Greenpoint:
- I love Greenpoint. As far as I am concerned “The Garden Spot” is the best fucking place on the planet. There is no other place in the world I would rather live. Some may argue that it is desolate, polluted, ugly, etc., but to judge a ‘hood by its looks is to overlook the quality of its character. What makes Greenpoint great are its people (save “Anonymous” perhaps). The Upper East Side might be pretty, but the inhabitants residing therein are not. I’d much rather deal with drunken bums than interface with those assholes.
- I have never considered myself a “liberal”. My politics are way too out there to be “liberal”, much less pro-gentrification. I think reasonable development is a good thing. And by “reasonable development” I mean building affordable rental housing, not displacing working folk/poor to build Kondos for kids.
- I won’t address the accusation of being a “muliticulturalist” because only a certified illiterate asshole (of Rush “Pill Popper” Limbaugh caliber) would use such a word. All I’m saying is the person who usually throws around this term (whose proper spelling is m-u-l-t-i-c-u-l-t-u-r-a-l-i-s-t, by the way) does so in order to make a (thinly) veiled racist/classist statement. And not being a so-called “liberal”, I ain’t taking the bait. Take your Xenophobic Roadshow to Wyoming
asshole“Anonymous”, the peeps of New York Shitty ain’t buying it. I think you’ll really like “Big Wyoming, Equality State, Cowboy State” especially since its most famous ‘cowboy’ nowadays is a dick.
“How can I placate Anonymous so he will not blight my fine-ASS Internet presence with his pointless pontifications, projected rage and illucid bullshit?” I asked myself today. Over and over. And— after some careful consideration, a couple of beers and listening to a LOT of Black Sabbath— I finally had a breakthrough: What Would Mike Do?
(Click on ye above image and behold the Holy Tablet of Mike.)
I stuck out my can (of beer) and prayed:
Mike, he of Greenpoint aluminum siding infamy, I beseech you. It’s Miss Heather, you know, the she-freak who takes pictures of dog shit and talks to herself. My Greenpoint loyalty and street cred have been challenged and my spirits are low, what should I do?
And Mike spoke:
Miss Heather, you are a good Greenpointer. You make me proud. Keep spreading the turd to the non-believers. I will give you an endless supply of aluminum siding and dog shit for your quest. Go south, my dear, Williamsburg needs you!
I did, albeit virtually. And I took the very finest architecturetorture Greenpoint has to offer with me: The Freeman Street Assault Domicile, The Holy House Sheathed in Mike’s Mighty Aluminum Siding and this, The Most Sacred Mobile Home of India Street.
Without further ado, I present De-gentrification: Miss Heather style!
The eyesore of tomorrow (Northside Piers) can be yours today!*
Greenpointastic!
Miss Heather
*Aluminum siding, satellite dish and scab-busting rats not included. BYOT: bring your own trailer.
For those of you who are tired of getting banged…
by Magic’s pile driver, that is. Tomorrow is the big day.
Brooklyn Supreme Court at 360 Adams Street 9:30 a.m., Part 16
110 Green Development LLC v. 131 Huron St Assoc Inc.
Index number 12594/2007
Per Larry Schwab the goal at this hearing is to:
1. continue or strengthen the TRO now in effect and
2. force the Petitioner (110 Green) to insert piles by open caisson throughout worksite which will completely eliminate banging.
Be there or be square banged!
Miss Heather
UPDATE, 4:26 p.m.: I just received an email from Larry Schwab of 131 Huron. He writes:
Today the Judge cancelled the TRO which allows the manager of Magic’s Project, Joel Schwartz, to resume pile driving.
This is in spite of a letter signed by him back in January stating that he would not pile drive & would employ “OPEN CAISSON”.
I’m down but Im not out.
I’ll be back there again tomorrow. I’ll have all the info there if you want to see it yourself… (this) was supposed to be in Room 561 but check with the ‘concierge’!!
Larry
Ewwwwww!
I have been chasing dog crap for well over a year now. Consequently, I find myself constantly scouring the ground for new ‘treasure’. Even at home. Five minutes ago I became very grateful to have this odd but otherwise innocuous habit; as I was exiting my apartment I noticed someone (or something) had deposited puddle of phlegm (or gack) directly outside my front door.
Think twice before you click the above link. It’s friggin’ nasty.
Miss Heather
The best dressed man in Greenpoint
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
Meet Phillip.
This gentleman is a Greenpoint institution. Not only has he lived here longer than me, but he rocks some of the fiercest fashion in recorded history. He is too hot for Williamsburg to handle.
When I asked him about this, his latest ensemble, he coyly told me he simply hadn’t done laundry yet and this was all he had to wear. I strongly suspect otherwise. This junta-leader-meets-Elvis ensemble would take an average person hours to assemble. But then again, Phillip is not your average person: he is a genius.
Let’s all give a big ol’ Greenpoint salute to Phillip! Thank you for gracing our fine streets with your fine-ass self.
Miss Heather
What is it with public urination today?!?
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
This morning I started my day by savoring tales of Park Slope public urination courtesy of The Gowanus Lounge. I found them to be quite amusing. Enough so that I felt compelled to share my very own tale of tinkling in public:
I’ll never forget the time I saw a father direct his kid to piss on the closest tree he could find. This happened to be 31st Street, Astoria. ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON. What was really creepy was the man held the kid’s dick while he went. FOR FUCK’S SAKE— if the kid can STAND, I think he is more than capable of HOLDING HIS OWN WANG! What is it with these people?!?
After posting this delightful story I gave the subject of public-space-as-pissoir no more thought. Until 6:15 p.m. today when the following comment from Guiliacucina was submitted for my approval on New York Shitty. She writes:
Just thought I’d restore your faith in good old Greenpoint with this little gem: I was walking back to my building on Huron Street today at around 5:30 p.m. when I watched a woman hitch up her dress, pop a squat in the street in front of my place and pee in broad daylight in full view of several passersby. She was dressed like she was on her way to church. Marking her territory, perhaps? My phone had died or I would have sent photographic evidence…
This reminded me of (yet) another act of public urination I witnessed right here in Greenpoint. It was a sight so special it shouldn’t languish on a comment board. Here it is:
NICE. I too have seen an old Polish broad lift up her skirt and let ‘er rip. It was about 5 years ago on Manhattan Avenue. Right by a bus stop, no less.
Today the realization finally hit me: of all the times I have seen someone piss publicly in Greenpoint, the perpetrator has always been an adult, never a child. Then a knot formed in my stomach.
It’s still there.
Miss Heather
Intimation of Gentrification
When do you know that your neighborhood is dangerously close to becoming yet another hypergentrified hellhole?
The day you find a flyer offering a “Big Reward” for a stolen Dutch Modern chair, that’s when.
Miss Heather
Great Moments in Greenpoint Vinyl Siding, Volume I
After seeing what is perhaps the most hideous display of vinyl siding ever, I have decided to add “vinyl siding” as a category. What inspired this momentous decision? The thing below.
I like to call this masterpiece (formerly a tatty, but sort of neat old store front) the Suburban Assault Domicle. This vinyl siding looks like it can retract— or in the case of an emergency— seal the entire building shut with a push of a button.
I’d love to know what led up to the ‘eureka moment’ that moved the building’s owner to do this. I think a phat bag of crack (or an affection for the movie Stripes) was the deciding factor.
Miss Heather
Break on through to the other side!
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
I just saw this on Manhattan Avenue.
Words fail me. Thankfully the owner of this van has more than enough to say. Exactly what point he is trying to make, however, is anyone’s guess.
Miss Heather
Today’s bit ‘o’ Greenpoint Goodness…
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic
In case you haven’t figured it out already, Monday is Greenpoint Crime Blotter Day here at New York Shitty. After learning about a hooligan on Green Street who has taken to throwing refuse at Magic Johnson’s trailer, I was reminded of a very special story from the August 16, 1897 edition of the New York Times. Not only does it feature trash throwing but it also includes attempted theft, extortion and a longhorn steer being fished out of Newton Creek. Right here in Greenpoint. Enjoy!
TEXANS ON THE RAMPAGE
THEY GIVE GREENPOINT A VAST DEAL OF EXCITEMENT
People in the progressive little suburb of Greenpoint were treated to the free view of a bull fight yesterday afternoon. The arena was Manhattan Avenue and the cross streets in the neighborhood of India Street. The matador of the occasion was a policeman. There were several long-horned wild-eyed Texas steers, but only two of them were game, and only one was killed.
Shortly after 1 o’clock, while a consignment of cattle were unloading at the North Ninth Street dock, seven of them wandered out upon the street and started a tour of sight-seeing. They reached Manhattan Avenue and met the small boy in large numbers. The small boy commenced by “shooing†them, and followed it up with throwing old shoes, tomato cans, stones, and other things that came handy. The steers became first frightened and then angry. Led by a big bay and dun, they rushed along Manhattan Avenue, scattering people right and left. While vehicles turned into the side streets. At Dupont Street the leader lowered his head and catching little Arthur Morgan on one of his long horns, tossed him high in the air. The boy fell on his head and was taken into a drug store unconscious and bleeding from a gash in his shoulder, which had been made by the sharp horns. He was afterwards sent to St. Catherine’s Hospital in serious condition.
While this animal was tossing the boy the rest went on, the lead being taken by another. The bay and dun steer followed to Franklin Street, down to which he turned to Greenpoint Avenue. There he made a lunge at Daniel Murphy, and caught him on the thumb with the point of his horn, tearing the thumb badly. Further on he charged a grocery store cart, upsetting it and throwing a boy out on the pavement. Then allowed himself to be guided into a vacant lot between two houses. At the back was a high fence.
The steer looked at the fence, then at the brick walls, and turned toward the street. Then he saw a mass of people behind ropes, which had been hastily stretched, and he stood still, shaking his head and stamping his feet, while his eyes blazed and the froth dripped from his handsome mouse-colored muzzle. He seemed at a loss what to do, but his hesitation did not last long. Policeman Hasselbrook crawled under the rope with a revolver, and advanced toward the animal. As he was about to pull the trigger the steer lowered his head and charged with a roar. The bullet hit the brute in the forehead, but did not check him. Hasselbrook has seen bullfights in Spain, and applying the knowledge gained there he leaped aside and pulled the trigger again. A bullet bored its was into the animal’s side just back of the shoulder. It did not stop the steer, however, and he tore through the rope and the crowd and dashed on up to India and Franklin Streets. There he suddenly paused, staggered, and fell to the pavement with a roar. Hasselbrook had followed, and borrowing a big knife from a butcher cut the animal’s throat. The bullet had pierced his heart.
In the meantime the other animals had kept on along Manhattan Avenue for some blocks, and then they all scattered down the cross streets except the leader. The latter continued on his way to Hunter’s Point Bridge. The draw was open, but gathering himself, he made mighty spring. He came down in the water 30 feet away. Some men in boats lassoed and took him ashore at Pottery Beach, where he was held last night for salvage… the others were captured without doing any damage, and one was out in the marsh last night. The capturers of the animals demanded $5 apiece for their trouble from the man who claimed to own them. This was William Meyers of 208 Ten Eyck Street, who said he had bought them, and was driving them to a slaughter house on Johnson Avenue. He said the dead steer did not belong to him. It is believed that Meyers is not the real owner of the animals.
Yee-HAW!
Miss Heather
P.S.: Speaking of hooliganism, I want to give a shout-out to Gothamist for this. Bravo!
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