Welcome To The Chicken Hut

Nobody— and I mean NOBODY— knows how to kick off a bright sunshiny day like my mother. I mention this because the following email from her (entitled “Water”) is how I started my morning. She writes:

There was a piece on AOL this morning about drugs in drinking water. Luckily we do not have any at this time, but NYC has “Heart medication, infection fighters, estrogen, anti-convulsants, a mood stabilizer and a tranquilizer”.

My mother takes great delight extolling upon the superiority of her stomping grounds: New Mexico. If this location makes her happy, then I’m happy… because if she isn’t happy I will invariably hear about it. Often. That said, her attempt at scaring me backfired big time because she forgot the overriding and defining characteristic of my personality: my distaste for my fellow man.

Not only do I find placing mood stabilizers, tranquilizers and estrogen (if I have tits so should everyone else) in our fine city’s drinking water to be a sterling idea, but the only criticism I having is the dosage is way, way too low. The way I see it, fretting over drinking water is to overlook the manifold number of other downright disturbing things that inhabit terra firma. Things like this.

Meet the Spencer Street clown.

He has a skull for a second floor neighbor.

Lest any of you are unable to read what the robot in to the left is saying, I’ll transcribe it for you:

Robot no eat aborted fetuses but will eat human fecis (sic).

As you can clearly see, Guido’s Paradise is located on floor three and the Chicken Hut can be found on four. Curiously enough, there were no chickens whatsoever to be found on the premises. But this is not to suggest I left Bed-Stuy without seeing some fowl.

I have no friggin idea what this bird is or why it inhabits a public garden. It does, however, sport webbed feet leading me to presume it is some form of aquatic fowl. Maybe he is afraid of the chemicals in the water?

In any case, he’s a pretty mild-mannered fellow. His feline companion didn’t seem to mind him in the least.

I like to call this composition “Rooster With Coat Hanger And Office Chairs”.

Miss Heather

Happy Women’s History Month From Bedford Stuyvesant!

Once in a very, very blue moon I will encounter something that even makes me say “Wow, that’s pretty offensive.” Yesterday I had such a moment on Lexington Street.

The item in question is located on the above pick-up truck. As you can clearly see, the owner of said motor vehicle has taken great care and expense to customize it. I suppose it’s his way of expressing himself.

That’s why he wasn’t content with the ubiquitous (and downright pedestrian) mud flap lady and opted for her X-rated cousin. I bet this gentleman has to beat off the women with a stick. Or beats off. A LOT.

Miss Heather