A Fat Rat’s Ass…

or Signs of Intelligent Life in the world of Curbed Comments

After last week’s insanity, I want to start this week with on a decidedly more “up” note. Not all Curbed commentors are raving lunatics. Some of these people are quite witty. People like “Mal Content” and “Lonely Guy”, for example. Their handiwork (regarding the inflatable scab-busting rats at Northside Piers) can be found here.

“Mal Content” writes:

I have this vision of the inflatables rental shop getting confused, resulting in a group of eight-year-olds at a birthday party trying to have fun with one of those rats while a group of construction workers bounce with glee in a Dora the Explorer Fun Castle across from a worksite.

To wit “Lonely Guy” writes back:

“Mal Content,” I once ordered a, well, let’s call her an inflatible companion, and got a rat instead. There wasn’t anyplace for lubricant so I shipped it back.

Miss Heather begs to differ, “Lonely Guy”…

Where there’s a will, there is always a way. That’s why we hear stories like the one about the EMS being called to dislodge some lonely dude’s dick from a vacuum cleaner attachment.

Miss Heather

A very special thanks to BARC

Earlier this week I received an email from Lisa (of BARC). Contained within this missive was a link to a YouTube video featuring Greenpoint’s very own Haile Selassie, my former neighbor. Click on the link embedded in the below picture and behold the cuteness yourself.

Note how Mr. Selassie defends his turf at the end. It just goes to show that you can take the cat out of Greenpoint, but you can’t take the Greenpoint out the cat! He’s a man after my own heart.

I recently visited Mr. last Tuesday and I have to say his progress is amazing. While never overtly hostile to humans, he was never big on getting affection from them either. This has changed.

As I rubbed the back of his neck he purred away with total abandon. Having had his fill, he chirped at me and moved away. While this may seem to be a trivial milestone, it is actually a very remarkable one. This cat used to cringe when you touched him. Now he doesn’t mind it so much. Up to a point.

Mr. Selassie is a descendant of the Queen of Sheba, after all. His royal highness has many pressing matters to attend to and like any other head of state, he needs his ‘alone time’ on occasion.

Anyone interested in being hosts to his highness can check him out on BARC’s web site— or better yet, swing by personally. Haile holds court Tuesday through Sunday, Noon to 5:oo p.m.

Brooklyn Animal Resource Coalition
253 Wythe Avenue (corner of North 1st Street)
Williamsburg, Brooklyn 11211
718-486-7489

Who knows, if you prove worthy enough he might just grant you an audience.

TIP: a few rounds of ‘kitty fishin’ lightens up his mood considerably.

Miss Heather

Photo Credit: Lisa of BARC

Hear ye, hear ye!

Those of you who live on Huron Street (and beyond):

The early morning ‘shake-up’ calls we have all grown to know and despise have been given the “go ahead”. (Read the update at the bottom of the post.)

Be advised that the court hearing scheduled for tomorrow is still in effect. Here are the deets (again):

Brooklyn Supreme Court at 360 Adams Street 9:30 a.m., Room 561
110 Green Development LLC v. 131 Huron St Assoc Inc.
Index number 12594/2007

Miss Heather

Potty mouth? Moi?!?

Yesterday an anonymous commentor on The Gowanus Lounge had the gall to take issue with my colorful language, among other things:

Nice potty mouth, Miss Heather, way to go. Talk about upbringing! And you are offended by the sight of a toddler peeing? Get a life.

Is it me, or someone taking issue with profanity— much less calling me a “potty mouth”— sort of ironic given that the topic I was passionately commenting about was public urination? More specifically, I was taking issue with a 30-ish year old man who elected to hold his 3-4 year old child’s penis as he tinkled on the street. Speaking for myself, public parental penis wrangling is much more objectionable than the odd f-bomb (or two). It’s enough to make me wonder about this dude’s upbringing. Maybe Michael Jackson was his nanny?

Come to think of it, I learned just about every nasty epithet I know from my dad. Time-tested classics such as:

1. Shit
2. Fuck (in all its many forms and applications)
3. Hell
4. Jesus Christ
5. Judas Priest
6. Damn
7. Goddammit
8. Asshole
9. Pissant
   
10. Cocksucker (a big favorite of my old man)
11. Dickhead
12. Bitch
13. Son of a bitch
14. Bastard

This is why my mother never punished me for using profanity; she knew I learned all the above words from her own husband. She felt disciplining me for using words I heard 4,5,6+ times a day at home would be hypocritical. Only the word “cunt” was picked up by yours truly elsewhere. I learned that one in high school. God bless public education.

Who is this mysterious man known only as Heather’s dad? Well, to give you a clearer picture of the man (and legend) I will share my favorite fatherly anecdote…

Five years ago both my grandmother and great aunt were in failing health. My parents (unable to repeatedly drop everything and drive to Texas on a moment’s notice) brought my grandparents back to their house in New Mexico. They had plenty of room to accommodate Daisy and Bertha. In fact, they only lacked one essential item: an additional bed. Dear old dad was delegated the task of rectifying this problem.

Several hours later he came home pissed off and bedless. After five minutes of gentle coaxing, my mother learned that he has been asked to leave the store. Naturally, my mother then asked WHY he was asked to leave the store. This was when the real fun began…

In order to rent a bed, my father was asked to provide references. He (rightfully) took offense at this. The salesperson advised my dad that he need only provide the names of a couple of friends for this purpose. To wit, my father replied:

All my friends are dead.

After some more bickering, he finally caved in and filled out the reference form placed in front of him. Once the salesperson saw who my father had listed as a reference, he was asked to leave the store. He had written:

William Jefferson Clinton
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW
Washington, DC 20500

That’s when my mother decided to take charge of this task and a bed was secured.

Miss Heather

P.S.: I recently asked my dad about something he did twenty years ago. I wrote:

Remember that time you wrote “Magic Sucks” in lipstick on the bathroom mirror? I do. What was that about? Just curious.

And here’s his reply:

I vaguely remember writing something on your mirror… but do not remember what or why! Given that I do not care for basketbell ….

I suppose “Magic” runs in the family.

A few thoughts about the 2007 Brooklyn Blogfest

As some of you know, I attended the 2nd Annual Brooklyn Blogfest this week. Although I found it enjoyable (despite being VERY crowded) I feel compelled to write about a few thoughts I had about the experience. Although (to paraphrase something Dope on the Slope emailed me) the origins of this event are largely to blame for its distinctly South Brooklyn flavor, I felt there were some greater issues at hand. Issues I would like to share with my fellow Greenpointers (and any other Brooklynites who might be reading this). The purpose of this exercise is two-fold:

1. to offer up some constructive criticism
2. to initiate an amicable dialogue and/or hear what you think

The previous having been said, here we go…

I read a lot of comments on a number of different blogs yesterday about the Blogfest. The most common criticisms to be found were:

1. lack of diversity
2. this event was nothing more than “mutual backslapping”

More often than not, the comments I read of the above nature were worded in *a hem* a very hostile and belligerent manner. Although I disagree with the way these people chose to air their grievances, I agree with the point they were trying to make. Being someone who is friendly to what the Blogfest is trying to do (but has some very serious concerns) I feel compelled to give my two cents. Here they are.

Regarding above point #1

Although race was brought up often, I think geography and/or lifestyle are the real issue. Actively courting other ‘nabes (and the up and coming blogs to be found in them) may help address this problem. Dope in the Slope’s idea of having meet-ups in different ‘nabes is a good one as well.

As I said before, the origin of the ‘fest does predispose it to having a distinctly South Brooklyn flavor, but (and this is a big BUT) the roster of speakers could have been tweaked and/or pared down to mitigate it. Which brings me to…

Above point #2

The amount of attention given to real estate issues (READ: Atlantic Yards and Bruce Ratner) was excessive. Enough so that it even struck me (she who seethes over 110 Green) as being ‘mutual backslapping’ or clique-ish. While I believe the awareness-raising/fact-checking the Atlantic Yards Report does is both laudable and very necessary, I all too often found myself asking “But what about Coney Island, Kensington, Sunset Heights, Flatbush, Greenwood Heights, Bedford-Stuyvesant, Bushwick, Williamsburg, Greenpoint, etc., etc.?” In other words:

What about everyone else?

In particular, Norman Oder (of the Atlantic Yards Report) said something that really disquieted me. It was something to the effect that there are enough blogs that feature criticism (and/or were of a personal nature) and what was needed were more blogs featuring real news. There is a value judgment embedded in the previous statement— and it is one I vehemently disagree with. While I understand that Mr. Oder is entitled to his opinion and his interests and/or ambitions are directed towards journalism, my (and many other’s) interests and/or ambitions are not. I am entitled to my opinion too. *Whoop* here it is…

I am an artist (by education) whose favorite avocation is being a jackass. Dishing out the dirty deets and duplicity about the Atlantic Yards Project may be his cup of tea but featuring festering piles of diarrhea is mine. Neither of the previous endeavors is any better than the other; they are simply different. As are our respective purposes and (in all likelihood) readerships.

I honestly don’t care what the subject matter of a blog is. Just as I would critique any other work of art or letters, my only concern is whether or not it is GOOD. It’s a matter of craftsmanship, not content— and I have seen a lot of blogs (of a journalistic flavor or otherwise), that are downright awful.

The issue I am trying to get at this: what qualifies one as being “Brooklyn blogger”? Does earning the sinecure of being a “Brooklyn blogger” require writing about Brooklyn or is simply being a resident of Brooklyn who happens to blog sufficient creds? Speaking as someone who is both of the previous (mostly the latter), I think the answer is both. It is much better to err on the side of inclusionism than exclusionism. And there was (albeit unintentionally) much exclusivity to be had at this year’s the Blogfest.

Hopefully next year’s event will address the above issues. I understand that this being only the second time the Brooklyn Blogfest has been conducted it would be unreasonable to expect geographical or topical parity. Moving forward, (speaking as someone whose readership includes a number of very talented artists in the Greenpoint/Williamsburg area who often have their own blogs/web sites), I would strongly recommend that more effort should be directed to welcome blogs that are outside the realm of local current events.

The boro of Kings has a lion’s share of amazingly talented and interesting people— many of whom also happen to have blogs. These people usually do not identify themselves as “bloggers”. I don’t. But does that make their contributions (or my own) to the Brooklyn blogosphere* any less significant?

I have lived in Greenpoint for some time and I have a pretty good feel for the people who live here. More importantly, I have a clear idea of what interests my ‘nabes. And Ratner-bashing and waxing philosophical about the role of bloggers (as journalists) are not among them.

Miss Heather

*Apparently Clinton Hill is the ‘bloggiest’ neighborhood in Brooklyn. I beg to differ. Greenpointers, Williamsburgers and (last, but not least) Bushwickers unite! Anyone up for a starting a North Brooklyn blogger insurgency? I am! Let’s set aside our respective differences, build a web ring and kick some brownstoner ass!

This Greenpoint moment is brought to you by…

some drunk dude.

Every so often I find myself wondering “Perhaps I am a little hard on Greenpoint?” I mean, there’s got to be other ‘nabes that have a shitload drunks passed out in strange public places, right? Then when I see something like what I captured in the above photo (which I took while walking home from work at 1:30 p.m. today) I realize any doubts I may have been harboring are completely baseless. For fuck’s sake, a dude was tazered about 10 feet from this exact spot a couple of months ago! What is it about this intersection?

That said, one thing you do not see in this photo are the roughly twenty gawkers watching this drama unfold. In all honesty, a drunk passing out in the middle of Green Street doesn’t faze me. I have grown to accept that living in Greenpoint means I will see shit like this on occasion. As long as medical attention is called, all is hunky dory in my world.

What I do NOT like are the flocks on onlookers who (clearly having nothing better to do) stand there like a bunch of cigar store Indians savoring every last abject detail. One of the men rendering aid in the above photo (the man wearing the yellow tunic) isn’t even a resident of Greenpoint: he’s a contractor doing work for the MTA.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

UGH!

Miss Heather