Handbill Handout

People of a certain age may remember that there was a guy named Hulk Hogan who was one of the most recognized names in popular culture roughly a quarter century ago. He’s still around today as an occasional actor and game show host but in the mid-to-late 1980s into the early 90s he was an active pro wrestler, voiced his own Saturday morning cartoon and appeared in movies and television shows on a regular basis. The reason for his popularity was only in part because of his own inherent look and charisma. Hogan was the quintessential all-American good guy. He was a big muscleman but gentle with the kids. He told everyone to work hard, say their prayers and take their vitamins and they would be as successful in life as he was (never mind the subsequent admissions of heavy steroid usage). He was a virtuous gentleman with the ladies. He was everything an American hero should be. Of course, that wasn ’t the whole reason for his success. As they say, every protagonist needs an antagoni

Last night Travel Channel aired a special called “Disappearing Manhattan”. It was a Bourdain show under the “No Reservations” banner which usually means a better-than-average travel program with a realistic, no B.S. perspective. As a guide to some aging institutions in New York it was a solid show but the title was fairly misleading in my estimation. Many if not all of the places they chose to feature are in no danger of going away any time soon despite their advanced age and in fact have been featured on many other programs. Hell, Russ and Daughters was even part of a challenge on “The Next Food Network Star”. But this post isn’t going to be a television review. Rather, this will be a list of some places in my Manhattan that have gone away or irrevocably changed. I’ve written about my college hangout before so this will cover places that I have haunted over the span of my post-collegiate working life. Back when I started my first job in this industry I was making no money. I mean just

The Line Lady was quite upset this morning. She was ready to get on the bus behind a guy that had shown up ahead of her when the guy did the unthinkable and let two young ladies who had just arrived at the bus stop board ahead of him. Mr. Polite had no inkling about the upset he was throwing into a fellow commuter’s day this freezing Monday morning, nor did he have any idea how entertained I was as I watched him smile and wave the girls on the bus while Line Lady’s face contorted into expressions of disgust, outrage and horror all at the same time. I boarded behind everyone and noted that Line Lady was so disturbed she switched seats at least once and seemed to be fussing with her coat a great deal, still agitated from the injustice of our boarding sequence. It’s the small things that can start your day well or poorly. There’s a different coffee guy in the cart I go to every morning now. He doesn ’t make small talk which is good, but his sugar-adding technique is poor. He uses wha

..."The Ulitmate Dime Store Philosophy Essay" Today’s homily is long, boring, and probably upsetting to many. If you don’t want to read my half-assed opinions on the nature of belief move on out and head to one of the sites over on the right in my link collection. “Things are getting so bad the psychics are going out of business” a friend of mine said the other day. We were discussing the various businesses that had fallen by the wayside on our little island during the global economic collapse and he mentioned that a psychic in his neighborhood had closed up shop. We agreed that between that and the recent closing of a tanning salon in my neck of the woods that things were truly dire when the Staten Island Ladies Who Lunch can’t afford their weekly time in the booth during the winter followed by a quick card reading to assure them that their husband isn’t boffing his secretary (or perhaps “is boffing” if they’re looking for an excuse for a few afternoon delights of their own)

Today is the CBC's annual celebration of the sport of hockey followed by a tripleheader of games featuring all six NHL teams based in Canada. It's a day I have enjoyed since they started doing it about eight years ago. Besides watching close to nine hours of hockey in a row the thing I really enjoy is watching all those stories from small towns spread across Canada, stories that show how the sport brings the people of Canada together and eliminates, temporarily, the lines drawn by race or language of politics. I'm not really sure we have an American corollary. Then again, we have a totally different culture here in the lower 48. Our "national pastime" is baseball, a sport that celebrates more often than not the achievement on the individual or the one-on-one confrontation between pitcher and batter whereas success in hockey is rarely based on the accomplishment of a lone individual but instead achieved through teamwork. Culturally this makes sense as th

Ingredients: Vinegar, Molasses, HFCS , Anchovies, Water, Onion, Salt Garlic, Tamarind Concentrate, Cloves, Natural Flavorings, Chili Pepper Extract. What a heavenly brew! I have loved Worcestershire Sauce since I was a kid. I would guess that my family had it in the house for the purposes of making meatloaf which I believe is it’s most popular application in the United States. However for a while I would put it on just about any savory item. Actually, I probably still would. It is a wondrous thing that is overlooked in today’s culinary world. Granted, I was a bit of a weird kid food wise. I also had a strong taste for raw hamburger meat with a sprinkling of onion powder. My mom used to let me have a bit but cautioned me not to eat too much lest I get the dreaded “worms”, whatever those were. Come to think of it, to many people I’m a weird adult food-wise. But I digress. What else is so great about Worcestershire Sauce? Why just look at the bottle ( Lea & Perrins , of cou

Coach Ray posted an interesting (albeit brief) piece on the Great Chimpanzee Cartoon Controversy making an analogy to the caricatures of Dubya. The point is well taken, though there is a certain amount of racial baggage associated with portraying a black person in a simian fashion. I posted a comment over there but then on further reflection I realized we both missed the point. The point is the NY Post and Al Sharpton need each other. Badly. The Post needs to create controversy to survive. It is certainly not known for serious journalism. What it is known for is sensationalism and populism, and the fact that many folks who are seemingly anti-populist are running to the paper’s defense is ironic, isn’t it? Well, if you’re going to stake your claim on that turf, you’d better have content providers who are willing to create controversy but even more importantly you need a constituency that will respond to said controversial content. Enter Reverend Al. The Post provides the controver

Let’s face it. Every office has at least one. That guy who is always in the men’s room when you walk in. He’s not usually just using he facilities, typically he’s brushing his hair, retying his tie, brushing his teeth, or even shaving. You look at him as you hook the right turn toward the urinal and wonder how the guy ever gets any work done when he’s perpetually primping in the rest room. The most interesting thing about Mr. Hygiene is he’s not typically the best looking guy in the office. In fact he’s typically not even a good looking guy at all, not that I’m anyone to judge the appearance of a fellow human being. Still, he’s in there for what seems to be hours making himself look as attractive as possible. He even carries a full shower bag to work that he leaves on the mirror ledge or on the side of a sink on the rare occasion he actually IS disposing of some waste product. I don’t mean to be judgmental toward Mr. Hygiene. I actually don’t care if he participates in any of t

They changed the audio message that blares through the express bus every 20 minutes or so. Around two weeks ago, it went from two alternating messages to a single message. One of the alternating messages cautioned us all to beware of pickpockets and their evil tactics while the other told us we could keep New York moving by always exiting through the center doors. This one was a hoot for us “X-bus” riders since the buses they use on those routes only have one set of doors at the front of the bus. The new message features a tired-sounding middle aged woman likely from Queens judging by the accent reciting the fares for the local and express buses, advising us on how to ask for transfers and finishing with a statement that roused me from my morning bus nap. She says “up to three childwren less than fawty-faw inchas tawl may ride da bus fow free”. Suddenly it was the 1970s again and I was standing with my mother outside the Rae Twin Cinema as she held a birth certificate ready to challeng

Jean Shepherd once remarked that the Eisenhower Interstate System was a collection of roads designed for people who hate to travel. Every time I take a trip that involves a long drive on a non -Interstate road I realize how right he was. It is a slower pace and it might take a little longer to reach your destination but more often than not you will be rewarded for your time. You might find a nice little farmer's market, or a fine homey restaurant or pub, or you might just have a little time to enjoy the music on your radio and think a little. Yes, I realize I'm expressing a heretical attitude. I know that success in 21st century America is measured by how productive you are, how much you can cram into a 24 hour day, how much wealth you can acquire. I guess I'm just not that successful. And I don't care. Though this attitude has its pitfalls. I have annoyed innumerable people by responding to some tale of some great new device that's really cool and that "

Sometimes I find myself wondering why I do things. Why I invest time pursuing hobbies I am so obviously unfit to pursue, wasting my time on ventures doomed to failure from the start. There is a certain perverse pleasure in always being the underdog. I've learned to enjoy knowing that when people watch me trying to accomplish something that they shake their heads and think I'm completely out of place, that I have no business whatsoever doing what I'm doing, that I'm dragging down the level of something they perceive as important and that I perceive as a diversion. It's kind of fun to be perceived as the turd in a punchbowl by a certain type of person. And while the diversion is amusing, what surrounds the diversion is even more important to me. The preparation, the planning and then the digestion and reflection of what transpired. I even enjoy the woeful head shakes, the polite questioning, the suggestions that maybe I do this or that instead, change the way I do

Tad's. The King Of Steaks. A New York institution to be sure. That book I was reading the other day mentioned that there used to be several in the Times Square area alone. Now as far as I know there's only one, right off the corner of 47th and 7th avenue hard between a Sbarro's and Lace, a Gentleman's Club. In other words, a few storefronts from the sleazy past that are still hanging on, hiding and hoping that the puritans are distracted by the monstrous M&M store across the street. Tad's is a unique eating establishment. Google it and stuff like this comes up "Tad's is like Steak for Dummies, its downright awful. I'd rather order a Double Whopper from Burger King, take it out of the bun, plop it on my plate, ..." or "Tad's Steaks is a good reason to become a vegetarian." Criticizing the food at Tad's is, however, missing the point. Tad's is a living museum, a memory of a time when New York eateries could make a go of it c

As my bus eased through the gray morning I was struck by the amount of abandoned commercial real estate we passed. A bakery, a few bagel shops, car dealerships and a corner grocery store that were all in business a few months ago were all closed. The grocery store had been razed, its parking lot dug up leaving a muddy lot in its place. It worries me. It worries me because I have my suspicions about what will happen next if businesses do not fill these storefronts. The structures begin to rot and sag, vandals break in to party and eventually either fires are set or human scum use the structures as bases of operation for petty crimes, muggings or even more serious offenses like kidnapping and rape. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. Or maybe the book I’m reading about the crime and porn-ridden world of Times Square in the 1970s and early 1980s is skewing my judgment. I do think there’s a real possibility that the Great Depression II can return New York to that “Fun City” era of crime and c

TCM is airing my father's favorite movie right now. His favorite movie was Gunga Din , a 1939 adventure flick loosely based on the Kipling poem of the same name. I have no earthly idea why this movie was his favorite, but he said it was. I think my dad always enjoyed military movies because the complete inaccuracy and unreality of the depictions of military life amused the ever-living crap out of him. My dad was the original one-man Mystery Science Theater 3000, though he typically only commented when asked or to react to other people's comments. He loved to watch military pictures, B movies of all kinds and bad sci- fi in particular rolling his eyes the whole time. When something particularly unbelievable would happen I would look to him for an answer. Almost inevitably the answer was a shrug and "it's in the script." Dad was not one to propagate myths. At least not in the movies. Real life on the other hand was something else. For some reason Dad liked

Joe Ades has departed this mortal coil . I never knew his name while he was alive, but he was a well-known example of a creature barely known in urban centers anymore: the sidewalk pitchman. I mentioned him in one of my early posts , but at the time I had no idea he had appeared in the local papers and in Vanity Fair. As I said last March, I could never pass the guy without thinking of the Twilight Zone episode where a sidewalk salesman wants to make one last pitch to “open the heavens”. I wonder now how many people would even understand that such people once worked the urban centers of this country and were not just figments of Rod Serling ’s imagination. With Joe gone, New York has lost one of the last of the breed. Yes, sidewalks are still crowded with people selling crap. Cheap hats and gloves and toys that fall off the backs for trucks, faux designer sunglasses and watches and New York City souvenirs. Those tables are generally manned by sullen types who barely speak at a

There is a peculiar dreamlike state to travel that I haven't experienced in any other, well, experience that I've had in life. When I am somewhere other than home, I find myself having out of body experiences, almost watching myself experience the journey. It is not an unpleasant feeling. The dreamlike nature of the experience is in fact a positive for me, because it's not similar to one of those dreams that you barely remember. Rather, it is typically like one of those hyperreal dreams of the sort that when you wake up you're not sure if you're still dreaming or not and you remember ever single detail of the dream in vivid detail. It makes the memories of a trip shine with a soft glow non unlike that which surrounds what people remember as "the good old days", whenever the hell that was. The funny thing is the parts of a trip that go wrong (airport delays, traffic jams, bad meals etc.) are not remembered with that glow. It's like the camera in my subc

Next week's guest judges include Wylie, Jacques and Lidia. I would pass out having to cook for those three. Wow. I mean wow. The only way they could impress me more is if they threw in Keller and Achatz, and they already used Achatz earlier in the season, and they used Ripert this week. I can't wait. And as long as I'm employed, maybe I'll get on that Le Bernardin res. With the Global Economic Collapse, you can actually get in there now.

There is a meme that’s been going around the World Wide Web for a while now that encourages you to write 25 random things about yourself. Supposedly, this will enable people to get to know you better with the added bonus of them getting to know you without actually having to spend time with you. In other words, it obviates the actual “work” part of a friendship. While I think many people have done many nice and interesting things with this meme, I find the concept of the meme itself fairly odious. I mean, it’s cool that people want to share and all, but what does that sharing really mean when it’s just a bunch of pixels typed and published in an e-mail or a social networking site? Shouldn’t getting to know someone be done live and in person, preferably over an enjoyable social activity? Now there’s nothing wrong if you filled out the thing or even if you asked me to do it. I don’t blame you, I blame the concept. That meme is a symptom of what I perceive to be a negative change in how h

Coach Ray is always saying "Follow the money". Well, now we can all follow the money... with music!

That's Fahrenheit . With the wind chill.