Greenpoint Video Du Jour: The Moonshine Soliloquy

I have said it before and I’ll say it again. Nothing has facilitated the culture of narcissism in this country more than the cellular phone. No matter where I go someone will undoubtedly be jawing or texting away with total abandon. When I go to the grocery store I will be invariably be stuck behind some woman multi-tasking a stroller, tendering her credit card and yammering away. BADLY. Restaurants are fair game as well. While I’m trying to savor my enchilada I am edified about how Lauren couldn’t possibly be Jewish because she is from Nebraska. I recently came home from dinner in Sunnyside via the B24. The entire ride home I had to listen to the bus driver in a heated argument with his girlfriend about something or other via his Bluetooth.I don’t know what it was about and I don’t want to know; I just want to get back to Greenpoint alive. Is this so much to ask? For a measly $2.00 (and given the MTA’s current financial woes), perhaps it is. But back to the purpose of this post.

In addition to impolite cell phone users yours truly also hates shouting. Unless there is a damned good reason to shout (e.g.; someone is about to walk in front of a moving bus, Barack Obama is elected president, New Year’s Eve, a rousing round of the World Cup, being batshit crazy, etc.) I see no reason for to engage in this practice.

Therefore you can imagine my delight when I had the pleasure of listening to some man scream profanity like a howler monkey into his cell phone for a solid twenty minutes last night in front of my apartment building. I was not prepared (How can one be ready for such an eventuality?) but I did manage to get some usable footage (crank up the volume for maximum f-bombtastic fun!). I’m not too sure what set him off. I think it is about a $400 phone bill. Or something. In any case be patient and savor “Moonshine Soliloquy” at the end. It’s worth the wait.

In the clarity that is 20/20 hindsight I could have assisted this chap. Mister Heather has a stash of applejack. I could have readily offered this to this gent in exchange for him shutting the fuck up. Or I simply could have dumped it on his head and lit a match. Either way it would have been a sad waste of hard liquor.

Miss Heather

Image Credit: hdforindies.com