Newtown Creek Hall of Shame

You see a lot of detail in the binoculars, but why would you want to? It’s desolate.

— passenger, 9/16/07 boat tour of Newtown Creek.

Without further ado, here are some pictures from yesterday’s sojourn down Newtown Creek. Enjoy!

See that milky looking stuff? That’s petroleum.

Here’s some more.

Three time’s a charm!

That black cordon in the background collects petroleum that is leaking into the creek. This “product” will be skimmed, sold and converted into gasoline. Profiteering off pollution. Think about that the next time you are topping off your tank at the gas station.

Pollution Recovery Project in Progress.

The gray stuff on the tires? That’s from hosing cement residue into the creek. This practice is illegal.

This is a concentrated sewage overrun pipe. They can be identified by a green sign, like the one to the left.

See this pipe? It does not have such a sign. You are, in all likelihood, witnessing an act of illegal dumping.

This muck was dredged up by the boat as it turned around in English Kills. It is a cocktail of sulfur, petroleum, and 100+ years of dumping god only knows what into Newtown Creek. The water really is that shade of green, by the way; it is incapable of supporting any life whatsoever. It also reeks. The best way I can describe the odor is that goop a hairdresser uses when giving you a perm: acrid, pungent and sulfurous.

Angry yet? If you aren’t, you should be. Allowing a situation like this to persist (as long as it has) is inexcusable.

Miss Heather

Oh yeah— a little something about that “alleged” oil spill

Those of you who are interested in reading the EPA’s confirmation of what most us already knew click here.

Miss Heather

P.S.: As it would happen, I will be taking a boat tour of Newton Creek this very weekend! I wonder if I’ll see any oil?

Hello Suckers!

Today’s selection of New York City history has nothing whatsoever to do with Greenpoint. As of the writing of this post I am listening to Magic’s pile driver pound away precariously close to the old bathhouse on Huron Street. The chair my fat white ass resides in is vibrating from the construction being conducted downstairs. Had I awakened in a different state of mind I might have exploited the latter, but the fact of the matter is I didn’t. And won’t. Suffice it to say I am a turd of a mood and today’s selection from the December 21, 1933 edition New York Times was picked because it amuses me.

Here’s a little background information on today’s subject. Her given name was Mary Louise Cecilia Guinan but she was better known as simply “Tex”. Her moniker arises from the fact she was born in Waco, Texas. Just like me. In January, no less. Once again, like me. We both had the horse sense to get the fuck out too; her, to a career in vaudeville later to become one of the most notorious speakeasy proprietresses in New York City and me, well, to whatever it is I am doing nowadays. Wikipedia has a very nice entry about her. I highly recommend recommend reading it.

Hers was a life that was interestingly —if not well— spent. The auction of her estate bears witness to this fact.

Speaking for myself, I find the synagogue chair of particular interest. As it would happen, I own a 19th century prayer bench. I haggled aggressively with the priest who consigned it too. Now it is one of the many very odd pieces of bric a brac that fill my apartment. The mirrored headboard that graces my boudoir isn’t broken though. Quarter inch thick glass is pretty resistant to wear and tear. I take great pride in my very practical approach to deviancy.

Those of you whose are interested in paying respects to Ms. Guinan can do so at Calvary Cemetery.

Miss Heather

How Would Jesus Drive?

Per this van (parked at Union Square), the son of god would never tailgate. I seriously doubt he would cut anyone off or double park for that matter. In a nutshell, Jesus would never cut it as a cabbie in New York Shitty. He’s too damned considerate. Unless of course, he took he own advice to heart, e.g.; it is much better to give (the finger) than to receive (the finger).

I learned how to drive in Texas. Jesusland. Operating a motor vehicle in Texas is not unlike playing Pole Position on meth: 10-20 miles over the speed limit is the norm. To do otherwise is to invite a confrontation. This is why I will never, EVER drive a car here. The manner in which New Yorkers use (and abuse) automobiles boggles my imagination. They can’t even parallel park for shit— and speaking as a pretty crappy parallel parker— this really means something.

Husband (while strolling along 7th Street in the East Village): Check out this guy, he can’t park for shit…
Me: (craning to look)
Husband: He has such a little car…
Me: and such a huge space to park it in— I bet it’s exactly the same when he fucks that broad sitting in the passenger seat.

The previous piquant observation netted my person dagger eyes from a male bystander. Perhaps my cutting remark hit too close to home? I don’t want to know. I have often been asked why I don’t want to live in Manhattan. I used to think I couldn’t handle Manhattan life but now I believe that Manhattan lifers couldn’t handle me. This is why I live in Greenpoint.

Lest any East Village-going cooters in need of rehabilitating are listening, help is on the way!

This decanter cum urinal/Kegel-sizer is for sale at Astor Wine & Spirits. While your hubbie takes 20 minutes to park his compact car in a 15 foot space you can pump your junk— or while you’re taking 20 minutes to park your compact car (in same said space), he can take a whiz. At $79.99 this item is a bargain at twice the price —and vice.

Miss Heather

A Few More Events To Check Out This Weekend

This evening Clinton Hill Blog will be holding its first anniversary celebration at RePOP. A “fun art show, a huge artistic chocolate cake, a keg and music” are promised. “Festive dress” is also encouraged. My advice: use your imagination regarding the latter most.

RePOP
68 Washington Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11205
G to Clinton-Washington
www.repopny.com

From Icky in Brooklyn I have learned that Richard Eagan will be performing his one-man show Alive on the Inside at the at the New York Aquarium Education Hall this Saturday at 2:00 p.m. For more details, go to the Coney Island History Project’s web site.

Lastly, this Sunday Cafe Grumpy will be conducting its Hearts and Crafts Affair starting at noon. Check it out!

Cafe Grumpy
193 Meserole Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11222
www.cafegrumpy.com

So much to do, so little time. Although it should be noted that I rarely pass an opportunity for free beer. Very few Greenpointers do.

Miss Heather

The Poop Report: Putting The “Anus” Back In Gowanus

Just a quick reminder that tonight is Dave Praeger’s book signing at the recently desecrated Barnes & Noble in Park Slope. Per his email:

I’ll be discussing three things: my book, the sanitary infrastructure in south Brooklyn, and the most terrifying threat humanity has ever faced. Forget Al Qaeda, forget the Nazis — I alone know the force that may cause Western Civilization to crumble.

Would that be Park Slope stroller moms? This would be the obvious answer. To me, anyway. Regardless, I am definitely interested in finding out! Be there or be square.

Time: 7:30 p.m.
Location: Barnes & Noble
267 7th Avenue at 6th Street
Cost: Free

Miss Heather

Happy Labor Day from Greenpoint!

Indulge yourself with as many crullers as you see fit, obesity epidemic be damned! Why not wash ’em down with copious amounts of espresso while you’re at it? But please refrain from smoking.

Now I’m off to indulge myself— but not before I see how the Labor Day Festivities are going at 154 West Street. If Sunday was any indication, it should be swinging! Maybe I should bring these chaps some beer?

Miss Heather