Washington Heights Condo Comes With Giant Spider

Trigger Warning: This post contains what appears to be a GIANT SPIDER.

At first blush, this listing for a Washington Heights duplex seems pretty typical for NYC, if you don't blanch at paying $700,000 for a ground floor apartment on 163rd Street. The size- 1,380 square feet, is admirable, there's a roof deck, and the bathroom appears fully renovat...

WHAT THE HECK IS THAT!!!!

It can't be...

No....

WHAT THE F....

Before you tell me spiders have 8 legs... yes, I know. But absent an explanation for this strange decor, I've got to assume this was a tarantula who got in a fight with a rat, and now has 7 legs.

That could explain this in the description:

SELLER MUST SELL ASAP......

I suppose there could be worse roommates in this city.

Update: The apartment has been re-listed, with new photos... but none of the spider's lair... I mean bathroom. The price has also dropped more than $100,000, so if you don't fear giant arachnids, it seems like a pretty great deal.

3 Reasons Bernie Bros Are Mad, And Why They Shouldn't Be

The system is rigged. If you're a Bernie Sanders supporter, you already know that. How could one of the most liberal states vote for Hillary Clinton, that Republican in Democrat's clothing? Voters were disenfranchised! Independents couldn't vote! 126,000 Democratic voters were wiped from the rolls just before the primary! The will of the people was subverted! The fix was in!

I hate to interrupt this stream of outrage. But lets get real. This has nothing to do with the system. It has to do with people who rarely vote suddenly being surprised that they don't understand how primaries work.

1. Superdelegates are anti-democratic!

They're not meant to be democratic. They're meant to prevent terrible mistakes like Donald Trump from taking over the party and changing its core principles. If the Republicans had superdelegates, Trump wouldn't be an issue. Superdelegates are not hand-picked friends of Hillary Clinton. They're committed Democratic party loyalists--Democratic congressmen, senators, state officials, you know, people that Democrats have voted into office time and time again. These guys and gals have been in the political trenches for a long time, fighting for Democratic values against the Republicans. They're responsible for the Democratic party's platform for women's rights, the rights of minorities, the support of labor and education. They're here to make sure the party sticks to Democratic principles. They have an interest in making sure the Democratic candidate can win the general election and represent Democratic party values.

Superdelegates are not robots. If Bernie won the popular vote, and the most pledged delegates, it would be abundantly clear that the party base had shifted and the Democratic party would be wise to follow the will of its members. THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED in 2008, when superdelegates recognized that Barak Obama, not Hillary Clinton, had the support of the Democratic majority. They shifted their alliances, and Hillary herself, for the good of the party, released those delegates sworn to her of their obligations.

Bernie does not lead in the popular vote. He does not lead in pledged delegates. In fact, there's no chance he will change this by the time of the convention. Before, when he had a chance, he argued that the superdelegates should follow the will of the people. Now, he says they should go against it.

2. The primaries should be open!

Primaries should not be open. That allows raiding from the opposing political party. Republicans seeking to go against a softer opponent could pack the Democratic Party ballot boxes. More importantly, why should we allow those not invested enough in a political party to have a say in that party's candidate? Primaries are designed to help a political party choose its candidate. Only those committed to the party should make that choice. If you want a different candidate, make your own party. Pick your candidate from a spinning wheel or by throwing darts. You can do that. But if you want a say in who the Republicans or Democrats choose, you should be a Republican or a Democrat. Otherwise organize, raise money, support a real third party run. If you're not a Democrat, then why should you get to choose who the Democrats nominate? It would be like UNC choosing which players Villanova gets to start in the NCAA championship game.

Elections decide who leads the country. We're all part of the country, so we all get to decide who leads it. Primaries, on the other hand, decide who leads the party. If you're not part of the party, then why should you get to choose the leader? If you don't like either candidate the two major parties have chosen, you have three choices. Don't vote, support a third party candidate, or pick a side and seek to influence its policies through your primary votes and level of involvement. Don't complain because you've registered as an independent and therefore can't vote in the Democratic primary. That was your choice!

3. Hillary's goons purged Bernie voters from the voting rolls! They switched votes!

Voter fraud is not a problem. It simply isn't. Many have made a big deal out of the 126,000 Democratic voters purged from the voting rolls prior to the election. As if somehow, all these were determined to be Bernie voters last fall.

The truth? It's a mix of bureaucracy and confused people. According to Board of Elections executive director Michael Ryan, 12,000 had moved out of borough, and 44,000 had been placed in an inactive file after mailings to their homes bounced back. An additional 70,000 were already inactive and hadn't voted in two successive federal elections or responded to cancellation notices. It wasn't all this year that suddenly 126,000 became ineligible to vote--this number has added up in the 4 years since 2012, the last time Brooklyn cleared their system of ineligible voters. In a place where people move in and out as often as Brooklyn, this number isn't out of the ordinary.

Were you ineligible? It was likely your fault. Take Jessica Sager. She wrote for the New York Post that she was purged from the voting rolls and became a ghost. But it's very clear from her own words why this happened. Jessica, who was registered as an Independent in New Jersey, just moved to the city in July of last year. It's not clear when, or if, she changed her address officially and obtained a NYC driver's license or proof of residency, but by her own admission, she missed the deadline for a registered voter to switch parties. March 25th was for new voters, not previously registered ones. That would be in October. From Bernie's own website:

What is this Oct 9 deadline I keep hearing about?Oct 9 2015 was the last day for switching party affiliation in time to vote in the Primary Elections in New York in April 2016. This deadline only applied to existing voters who wanted to change party in time to vote in that party’s primary (eg independents switching to Democrat to vote for Bernie in the Democratic primary!). It DOES NOT apply to new voters.

Jessica was not a new voter. She was registered in New Jersey. She voted before, as she says, in the 2008 and 2012 elections. So the March deadline to switch parties didn't apply to her. The October one did. Her printed and mailed registration form came several months too late to participate as a Democrat in this primary election.

I don't fault Jessica for being confused. The system is far from being perfectly clear. But she's being disingenuous to imply that this had nothing to do with her own ignorance of the process. If you change addresses and switch districts, its your responsibility to make sure you update your registration.

FULL DISCLOSURE: I voted for Obama in 2008 in New Jersey, despite spending more of my time in New York. I hadn't yet changed my address officially--I still had a New Jersey license and listed my parents' address as my permanent address. Imagine if I had shown up in New York to vote, expecting no problems. Instead, I recognized that I'd been lazy about changing my address. My parents were able to forward me the mailer that told me where my designated polling place was. Even though it was more than an hour away, it was important for me to vote, so I took the train and did it at the polling place assigned to me.

I've seen Bernie supporters irate that they can't tell whether their vote was accurately counted. They just can't believe their neighborhood would vote for Hillary. This is another example of ignorance. There is no way to verify a vote was recorded correctly. Only that you voted. This is by design. A secret ballot is meant to stay secret to avoid vote selling. If you could verify that your vote was for a certain candidate, then that would promote vote selling or coercive behavior. As long as the vote is secret and there's no way to tell, no one can force you to vote for a candidate. This is a bedrock principle of our voting system. It seems odd that some Bernie supporters aren't aware of it.

I understand all the frustration from people who feel like they've been excluded from the process. But many of them don't understand that in order to really change things, you need to be involved in that process more than just showing up for a primary vote or on election day. "Independent" is not a party. It has no platform. It has no plan. You could be a skinhead racist and be a registered "Independent." You could be a communist who believes in a fully socialized state, and be a registered "independent."

If you're unhappy with the two parties and what they represent, you have two main options. Organize with others to create a third party. This is not unprecedented in American history. Some have done quite well. If your party grows enough and makes enough noise, and falls to one side of the ideological line, then the competing party with the most to lose will be forced to cave and accept your agenda into its platform. If your party falls in the middle and makes enough of a splash, then both parties will be forced to moderate their platforms to fall closer to the center. If you manage to really capture the populace, you might even drain enough support from the closest competitor that they're forced to fold completely. Unlikely, but it has happened in the past.

Then there's option two-- changing the party from the inside. In order to do this, you can't be an Independent. You need to choose the side you're trying to change, and become a member. Then you have voting power within the party. We all saw how Tea Partiers were able to rip the Republican party sharply to the right, even getting them to give up on immigration reform. They created a powerful voting bloc within the party that threatened to become a third party-- the only way for the Republicans to win was to accommodate them. If Bernie's supporters want to change the Democratic party... they need to be involved members of the Democratic party. Indeed, Bernie supporters within the party have already forced Hillary to move her views further to the left.

You can still be "independent" and be a member of a party. Plenty of Republicans and Democrats have crossed party lines to vote in elections. But if you register that way, you need to be aware that you've chosen not to join a club. You don't get to say what the club does. And you can't say the system is rigged if you've never taken the time to understand it in the first place.

Um... Chanukah?

There's a potato latke festival going on tonight in Chelsea in honor of Chanukah, and some of the city's best restaurants will be participating. In order to attend, you'll have to lay out some serious gelt: the cheapest tickets are $55.

That said, hold onto your dreidels, because something is amiss...

That ain't kosher.

 Braised Pork!?!? Shrimp!?!?! This is worse than the Chanukah ham:

No, not delicious for Chanukah

Seriously, the Fifth Annual Latke Festival??? You should have gotten your act together by now. We're really going goy for a festival celebrating Jewish tradition? At least go kosher-style.

This is what happens when the Ukranians and the Mexicans attempt to create Jewish food. (although Toloache and Yerba Buena chef Julian Medina gets it right)

Somewhere, an old Jewish man is rolling in his grave, and complaining.

Why I’m Glad I Didn’t Quit New York At Age 24

On a Saturday night a few weeks ago, I found myself in a karaoke bar at 3:45 a.m., participating in a raucous group rendition of Creed’s “Higher.” Not my choice of song, but when you’re with your cousin from out-of-town, his friend, and a bunch of random foreigners you met that evening in another bar nearby, you can’t be picky. You want to show them a good time. After all, taking country-folk on a bar crawl to your favorite non-douche-y dives and showing them the time of their lives is part of the joy of living here. “We don’t have a place like this in Charlotte,” my cousin yells in-between songs, and Amen to that. When I was in Charlotte to interview a story subject, the hotel concierge recommended visiting the finest restaurant in town: the Capital Grille. My take, since about age 18, has been, "Why would I want to make it anywhere else when I can make it here?"

An insipid, shallow article on New York Magazine’s “The Cut” blog, “Why I’m Glad I Quit New York At Age 24”, chronicles Ann Friedman’s miserable experience in the city that never sleeps. “I spent the worst year of my life in New York,” Ann writes. The worst. What was the city’s crime against, poor, innocent Ann? “Right after college graduation, I moved from Missouri to join my college boyfriend, who had landed my dream job. I ended up here not because I had something to prove, but because I couldn’t think of where else to go. No job, dreamy or otherwise.”

Hold up. Ann moved to one of the most expensive places to live on Earth… with no job? And she did this solely to join her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend, who she clearly secretly despised (“my dream job”)? At least tell me she gave living here a chance.

Nope. “When I decamped for the West Coast fifteen months later, I didn’t feel failure or regret but relief. For me, New York is that guy I went out with only briefly and then successfully transitioned into friendship. We were always meant to be platonic.” Is she talking about the college boyfriend? Or the city? Because if she’s talking about the city, I’ve got news. The city is not a lover. You can try and jam a fire hydrant up your hoo-hah, but if you’re looking for romantic intimacy, you may want to try a human being, instead of anthropomorphicizing an entire city.

Now, maybe I’m biased, because I’ve spent the last 13 years of my life here. I came here first for college—not a college boyfriend—at age 18. My first experience in the city was waiting on the sidewalk on Washington Square West for a big plastic cart so I could move my things into the Hayden dormitory at NYU, and seeing a man just leave his dog’s shit on the sidewalk without picking it up. He caught me staring and said, “Welcome to New York.” While I later learned that was not representative of most New York City dog owners, it’s always stuck with me that on an island with 8 million other people, chances are you’ll meet a new character every day. Sometimes it’s a homeless guy who tells jokes for a slice of pizza. Sometimes it’s a guy who walks around town with a real, live cat on his head. Sometimes it’s a man in the park, covered head to toe by pigeons. You just don’t get this in Missouri. More meth-heads there, I’ll grant you.

It’s always struck me as hilarious that people who claim to despise the city want the world to know how much they hate it, so they write things for New York Magazine. To use Ann’s analogy, It’s sort of like stalking the prom king and then tucking little angry notes into his locker. Everyone can see right through it. It’s not that you hate him, it’s that you want him to ditch the prom queen and take your teenage dirtbag self to the prom instead. Ann Friedman writes, “New York is increasingly a city for people who are already on top, not for those looking to establish themselves.” From a financial standpoint, I can see her point. Even after 13 years, my savings account resembles that of a teenager working minimum wage at Burger King. But I vomited a little in my mouth when I read her description of the ultraviolent Chicago (safer than 8% of the cities in the U.S.!): “the friendly guy who doesn’t know how hot he really is.” What does that even mean? Or when she called the spider’s web of roadways and prostitutes that is Los Angeles—“the surprisingly intelligent, sexy stoner.” That’s actually Boulder, Colorado, not Los Angeles, Ann.

“Part of that infatuation is a willingness to consider New York from a cinematic distance, overlooking the city’s many irritants except insofar as they add grit and drama to your story,” Ann writes. California, Ann’s current state of bliss, is apparently, all “sunshine and avocados.” Clearly, us vampiric New Yorkers have never seen the sun, and avocados remain a mysterious green thing we recognize only from Trader Joe’s pre packaged guacamole. She cites, “a not-insignificant number of the vehement New York lovers I know — especially the young twentysomethings — are actually pretty unhappy day to day,” before retreating to her high school analogy about the prom king again. Her comprehensive study of New Yorkers aside, I’ve often wondered how happy anyone can be without 24-hour access to food, entertainment and excitement. There’s a reason people who move to the ‘burbs instantly pop out kids. There’s simply nothing else to do.

“The entire media industry” is located here because this is where the action is. This is where you’ll always know what’s going on. The things people re-post on Facebook and Twitter about… New Yorkers witness these things and learn about these things on our morning commute. “Your early twenties are going to suck,” Ann writes, and that’s awful, awful to tell people of that age, because it’s not true. It’s the time in your life where you find out who you really are. My twenties most certainly did not suck… but maybe that’s because I didn’t “[break] up with a college boyfriend and a mindless entry-level job.” Instead, I worked hard to climb up from my entry level position, spent my weekends and summer nights taking advantage of what the city had to offer me. Whenever I leave the city for a weekend, I’m surprised at how slow life seems. Sometimes it’s a nice break, but I’d die of boredom if I had to live there. How is a 20-something supposed to meet anyone? Where do you take your dates to, Chili’s? When I visit my friends in Jersey, and it’s not summer, we go bowling. Fun and all, but when the alley closes at 11 there’s nothing left to do.

It’s become in vogue, apparently, to hate on New York. You can blame it on Bloomberg’s elitism, the national anger at Wall Street, the obsession with In & Out Burger that I just don’t get. But if you can hack more than 15 months here—I’d suggest getting a job with decent growth potential, first—you’ll discover a deeper city that the tourists and haters don’t see. A city where the world comes together in the cramped nooks of busy neighborhood bars, where a rabbi, an imam, a priest and a guy with an alligator face tattoo really do all ride side-by-side in a single subway car, where in the wee hours of the morning, somewhere in the East Village, the front doors of a karaoke bar open wide to the street and let loose a roar of human beings, sauced and smiling, who aren’t ready to go home, not just yet.

New York City Sandy Survival Tips (based on every disaster movie I remember)

1. Avoid the Empire State Building. It'll be the first to go.
2. The Brooklyn Bridge is also not a good place to be.
3. The New York Public Library makes a great shelter because you can burn the books to keep warm.
4. Watch out for WOLVES.
5. The Statue of Liberty's torch is the safest place to be. It always survives.
6. Hang out with Bruce Willis. He will protect you.
7. Don't just stand there staring at the tidal wave, RUN.
8. Zombie-vampires are smarter than you think. Avoid their traps.
9. Government, police, and other authority figures will freak out, so follow the orders of the nerdy young scientist they all refuse to listen to.
10. If there's something strange in your neighborhood, don't call 911, call Ghostbusters.

F#ck Snow Plows

"Emergency snow removal"

That's what the security guy at Stuyvesant Town called it at 4:20 am when I called to complain about the freaking snow plows blasting warning beeps every two seconds. It's fing ridiculous. No one is walking around in a snowstorm at 4am-- warning beeps are completely unnecessary. Of course, the noise can not be shut off. But it's louder than my damn alarm is that wakes me in the morning. It's right outside my fing window. I've never wanted to strangle a snowplow driver more. Or at least the fing guy who invented the backup warning beep. I'm thinking anyone who doesn't see a HUGE ASS SNOWPLOW backing up deserves to die. Survival of the fittest and such.

Or here's a freaking novel idea: just let the damn snow pile up. Let us have a damn snow day. Half the city is shut down anyway tomorrow. What ever happened to good old fashioned, "Oh my! We're snowed in!"

Seriously. Suck one snowplows.

[UPDATE: 311 noise complaint filed. Apparently, according to the woman I spoke to, they've been getting calls about this all night. "It makes the time pass," the woman said. At least someone's getting something out of this.]

Friday Food Holiday Gift Guide

They say the quickest way to someone's heart is through their stomach (though as my doctor friends point out, it's quicker to make an incision in the breastplate.) In NYC, you can step it up a notch above a box of Godivas fairly easily and cheaply.

Just visit these places below:

The Store: Fat Witch Bakery, 75 9th Ave. (Chelsea Market)

What You'll Find:

Holiday Cauldron Special, $18.99. One luscious, gooey, mmm Fat Witch brownie is $2.75... this collection has 7 Fat Witch Baby Brownies, 3 Blonde Babies and 3 Walnut Babies.

Also look for: For do-it-yourselfers, Fat Witch's Original Brownie Mix.

The Store: La Maison Du Chocolat, 30 Rockefeller Center.

What You'll Find:

Chocolate Macaroon, $2.50 ea. This isn't one of those dry, coconutty lumps for Passover... this is the best cookie they'll ever have in their life. Gift boxes with a variety of flavors are available.

Also look for: Chocolate Covered Fruit, Tasse De Chocolat-- dark chocolate beads, and, if you're in the store, a overdose-inducing cup of Hot Chocolate.

The Store: Butter Lane, 123 E. 7th St.
What You'll Find:

Chocolate Cupcake with French Vanilla Buttercream Icing,$2.50. There's no way you'll want to wait in line at Magnolia, so try these cupcakes on for size.

Also look for: A much-raved-about Banana Cream Cheese cupcake (which I was unfortunately not able to sample), a variety of French buttercream and American buttercream (the staff will explain the difference) cupcakes.

The Store: Build A Green Bakery, 223 First Ave.

What You'll Find:

Big Box of Little Cookies, $15.00. Size doesn't matter... with these cookies. Always fresh, they pack some big taste.

Also look for:New York Chocolate Cheesecake and Peanut Butter Chocolate Cheesecake, out this month, and their tasty Blueberry Corn Muffins.

The Store: Dylan's Candy Bar, 1011 Third Ave.

What You'll Find:

Dylan's Candy Bar Striped Scarf, $42.00. I was gonna feature some candy here, then I saw this scarf with pockets. A scarf with pockets! I thought of that first.

Also look for: Candy. All kinds. Everything from a Pez Elvis Gift Set to Chocolate Covered Peanuts in a Paint Can. Yes, a Paint Can. Paint not included.

New York City Holiday Gift Guide: Sports and Dorks

Just a handful of places today, where you can find gifts for your sports fan or, er... anti-sports fan. Let's go NYU Bobcats!! Yes... its Bobcats. Not Violets. I swear.

The Store: Steve & Barry's, 100 W. 33rd St. (Manhattan Mall)

What You'll Find:

Long-Sleeve College T-Shirt, $4.00. Help your friend or relative feel like a college kid again.

Also look for: Steve and Barry's is going out of business, and the phrase "picked over" doesn't begin to describe the remaining items from their closing sale. But if you get there this week, there's still plenty of Steve & Barry's fleeces, Laird Hamilton's "Wonderwall" surf-clothing collection, University of Michigan Varsity-Style Jackets, and ridiculously cheap earrings and other accessories.

The Store: Yankees Clubhouse Store, 393 Fifth Ave.

What You'll Find:

New York Yankees vs Boston Red Sox Connect Four MLB Game, $19.99. The only bad part about this gift? Someone ends up having to play as the Red Sox.

Also look for: Yankees Jerseys and Caps, a Yankees Mr. Potato Head doll.

The Store: Paragon Sports, 867 Broadway

What You'll Find:

Finis SwiMP3 V2 Player, $111.96. For the swimmer who found out the hard way that iPods don't work underwater.

Also look for: Every sporting good under the sun, Custom Pocket Knives, and some great lawn games, like the Franklin Sports Spongebob All Sport Set, which includes a pop up goal and soccer ball.

The Store: Jewish Book Center of The Workman's Circle, 45 E. 33rd St.

What You'll Find:

Mensch T-Shirt, $13.00. For the mensch who has everything, except a T-Shirt printed with the definition of what a Mensch is.

Also look for: Musical Dreidels, books on Kabbalah, or Jewish Mysticism, and for aspiring Jewish Jocks, the Shvitz! My Yiddishe Workout DVD.

The Store: Bauman Rare Books, 535 Madison Ave.

What You'll Find:

Issac Asimov's Book Of Facts, Signed By The Author, $150. The king of sci-fi for your sci-fi fan. As long as he doesn't mind that Asimov wrote in it.

Also look for:A framed collection of Beatles' Autographs, rare first editions of books and manuscripts.

More gift guide to come. See the whole gift guide, here.

Steam Scare, Old Scars



I took this with my camera phone, as did about 10,000 others around me. Of course, I didn't whip out the cell phone camera until after I heard that the cause of the explosion wasn't Bin Laden, but a burst steam pipe.

I left work (at 34th and Madison) and headed towards my sister's place (54th and 1st). When I got to 34th and Lexington, I saw people running down the street, looking over their shoulders.

Instantly, my blood ran cold. I'd only seen people running like that once before in my life.

I looked up Lexington, and saw the huge geyser of brown smoke, erupting from the street. It filled in all the spaces between the skyscrapers in the distance, reaching the tops of the buildings, seemingly coming towards me and the rest of the crowd that stood in stunned silence.



I'd only seen smoke like that once before in my life.

I called my sister, and told her to turn on the TV, see what the news said. There wasn't anything at first. After a few minutes, she said one report mentioned a transformer may have exploded. "More Than Meets The Eye" jokes aside, I felt some relief.

I called Jay, who works around there. His building was being evacuated. I told him what my sister had told me.

As word spread that officials had ruled out terror, the mood of the ever-growing crowd on the streets lightened. What had been, moments before, an eerie mass of quivering dread, the crowd of people began to drop their guard, smile, and exchange expressions of gratitude. Police urged everyone to be on their way. "Nothing to see here, folks," someone cracked.



I thought about 9/11. Though it happened almost 6 years ago, images remain seared in my memory as if I had witnessed them today. Ambulances speeding from downtown, throwing off gray ash; people applauding them as they passed. A man in a suit, clutching a briefcase, walking stunned, his hair and shoulders sprinkled with dust. A woman falling to her knees in Union Square Park, a stranger bending down to embrace her. Shopkeepers, students, businessmen, taxi cab drivers, all standing in the street, silently staring in the same direction. That sickening gray ash caking on the railing of my dormroom balcony; that plume downtown that seemed to glow brighter and more terrifying as the hours passed and the city fell into the darkest night it had ever known.

Years later, these images still strike me. Last week, I was watching Saturday Night Live, and there was a semi-amusing skit set in an office building, where the boss goes around the conference room table, asking the staff's suggestions on how to save money. As he goes rapid-fire around the table, the employees the camera shows are more and more ridiculous, including a turkey sandwich and a mounted deer head. I admit, I giggled a bit. But then, as nearly all Saturday Night Live skits do these days, it ended with a bizzarre and disturbing ending:

The building collapsed.

I sat there quiet, feeling chills throughout my body. I doubt any of the people involved in that sketch were thinking about 9/11 when they wrote it. And 9/11 certainly wasn't on my mind when the boss asked the turkey sandwich his opinion on budget restructuring. But that final shot, of the building collapsing, quickly and shockingly sent my brain back to that horrible day. I shut SNL off. I didn't feel like laughing anymore.

I was 20 blocks north of the WTC on 9/11, far enough away that there was no evacuation, no close up look at the maimed and killed. My memories of that day pale in comparision to the traumatic things first responders and those further downtown witnessed. If I can be shaken to the core by something as simple as an SNL sketch, I can't imagine the terror those closer to the events of 9/11 felt yesterday when they saw the smoke exploding from the street in front of Grand Central Station, and people covered in mud and dirt and blood, fleeing the scene.

Six years after 9/11, this is a city still very much in shock. While day to day life has returned to normal, I don't think anyone living here believes everything is still the same. All the wars Bush starts won't restore that damaged place inside ourselves, the place within us that collapsed along with the towers on that awful day. It's a fact that's incredibly frustrating and incredibly sad.

But as I walked uptown yesterday to meet my parents and sister for dinner, I was struck by the difference between how I am now and how I was on 9/11. That day my roommates and I basically just huddled around the television. I couldn't go near Ground Zero until a year after. But when I saw that smoke at Grand Central, I didn't feel the urge to run and hide. I felt this strong desire to help, to call my friends and find out if they were ok, to get closer to the scene and see what I could see. I can't quite explain it. But even if it was an attack, I didn't want to just go home and watch it on the news. I needed to be there. And looking around me, I could see a lot of people felt the same thing.

Maybe we are scarred for life. But scars are simply new skin, new tissue, that fills our wounds and strengthens them for our next painful scrape. In many ways, this is a braver city than it was before 9/11. And if it's one positive that came from that day, it's that we know what we're able to make it through. We know we can survive. Our memories, however painful, are perhaps our bodies' way of reminding us that we're, in fact, survivors. And that's a good thing to remember. We're still here.

All Aboard The Matzah Bus


Note: Not Used To Cook Children

School Bus Serves Up Flat, Unleavened Bread

Gotta applaud this guy on his creativity. It's hard to find an oven capable of baking tons of matzah that also serves as a form of public transportation. When the matzah is ready, do the red lights flash? That would be sooo cool.

Luckily, the police did not visit the house next door, where a minivan has been converted into a latke* fryer.

In other news, I got a Nintendo Wii. My roommate and I were terribly bored on Saturday, and stopped into a GameStop to see if there was any interesting game we could buy for our Gamecube. There wasn't. I decided, hey, lets get the Wii! I asked the lady behind the counter if they had them in.

"Oh no," she laughed. "We won't have those until April, maybe even May."

I was devastated. But just then, out of nowhere, a creepy guy vaguely resembling a mix of Rob Corddry and Rainn Wilson sidled up next to me.

"Tomorrow. 10 am. Circuit City in Union Square. Arrive promptly at a quarter till. That's all I'm at liberty to say."

I turned to ask him how he knew this information, but he was already gone. Like he had never been there at all...

So the next day I woke up early, despite the fact that it was a Sunday, and my typical Sunday wake up time is 1 pm. I went over to Circuit City. There were about 15 people when I got there, waiting for the store to open. One guy was there with his kid. "I got the XBox 360 and the PS3 for me. I'm getting the Nintendo Wii for him," he said. One woman, there with her husband, was really excited about the Wii, even though she said she never played video games. More than a few people made jokes to the effect of "Oh, they're out of Wii's already, you other guys should just go home." I was one of those jokers.

Finally, the store opened, we were led in, five at a time. And I got my Wii. All the way home I clutched it tightly to my chest, fearing that every person I passed might snatch it away from me.

When I got home, I set it up immediately. For such a seemingly sophisticated device, it was pretty quick and easy to get started.

First, I created my Wii character, called a Mii. I think it's possible to download your Mii and post it on web pages such as this, but until I figure it out, you'll have to make do with my bad drawing...



My roommate and I played for hours straight. We just couldn't stop. After every Wii sports game, they give you the option "Play Again?" And it was irresistable. Wii Bowling was especially addictive. What was amazing about it, to me, was that I bowled exactly how I bowl in real life. Horribly.


Your Mii's Hands Are Detatched Floating Orbs.. Just Like In Real Life!!

What also amazed me was how active you can get. When I first heard about people accidently throwing their Wii controllers through their TV sets, or injuring themselves and others, I thought they had to be complete spazoids. But playing Wii Tennis, I totally understood how that stuff can happen. My roommate and I were both sweating as we volleyed back and forth. The controllers get slippery. Thank God for that wrist strap.



And then there was Wii Baseball, where in order to throw a faster pitch, you need to "throw" the controller faster. I may need Tommy John surgery in a few weeks if I keep this up.

I thought Wii sounded cool before. Now that I've actually experienced it, I'm convinced this is the future of gaming. I can't wait to get home and try Wii Boxing and Wii Golf.

To tie this whole entry together... It's all about human creativity, my friends. The same kind of imagination that can turn a bus into an oven can also create something as magical as the Nintendo Wii. All this has inspired me to start my own creative project. You heard it here first people... I'm turning my parents' Toyota Avalon into a Panini press.

Patent pending.

---------
* the goyim** call them "potato pancakes"

** "goyim" meaning anyone who read this "**" to find out what "goyim" means

$370 Million Dollars

I am not an experienced gambler. I've only gotten a genuine lottery ticket once before, when I won a free lotto ticket on a "Take 5" scratch-off. So when I went to the bodega today to buy a ticket for tonight's $370 million+ drawing, I had no idea what I was doing. I did, however, make sure not to choose the numbers chosen by Hurley from ABC's LOST. I have no desire to spend years stranded on a weird island... especially since Maggie Grace is no longer there.


Money Can't Buy Me Maggie's Love... or Can It?

But clearly, I was not alone in my lottery virginity. A Murray-Hill guy (you know the type-- short hair all waxed up, striped button down, long island accent) was giving the bodega guy hell for messing up his ticket. "The numbers aren't in the order I chose!!!" he yelled, quite preturbed, no doubt envisioning his millions going down the drain because of some "damn immigrant." He demanded another ticket. "You'll have to buy another," the bodega guy said.

Grudgingly, the guy agreed. "43, 2, 0..."

"You can't choose zero, sir."

"Oh, ok, 3..."

He finished, and the bodega guy printed out the ticket. The Murray Hill guy was not happy. "It's exactly the same!! The order is wrong!!!!" In a fit of anger, the guy stormed away. Then it was my turn to pick my numbers.

When the bodega guy handed me the ticket, I too saw that my numbers were correct, but the order was different. It was at that moment I realized:

The numbers always go lowest to highest. No matter what order you choose them. Lowest numbers always go first.

Obviously, the Murray Hill guy was a first time lottery player like myself. Unlike myself, he didn't realize his mistake, and ended up looking stupid when he blamed the bodega guy for derailing his lottery-winning dreams. I bet he went to another bodega to buy a "correct" ticket, only to find himself holding a third copy of the same ordered numbers.

Anyways, good luck to all of you out there who are fighting to beat the odds and fulfill the American dream-- getting incredibly rich by doing nothing. Except you, Murray Hill guy. You're rude to bodega guys-- you get bad karma.

P.S. LOST THEORY ALERT!!! Check out Lottery Lady Yolanda Vega's favorite TV Show. Was Hurley's lottery win... RIGGED?????


Is Yolanda Behind The Mysterious Dharma Initiative?? Think About It!

1st Beaver Spotted In NYC In 200 Years



By Jose the Beaver

Yo. What's up? Jose here. You know, NYC's first beaver in 200 years. You're probably wondering what I'm doing in town. Well you know what? It's none of your business.

If you must know, I've been living in Hoboken until I could afford the NYC rent. You know how much a single-occupancy beaver dam in Manhattan is going for these days? Forget about it.

Plus, I've been layin low. Us beavers haven't been too popular lately. First, Leave it to Beaver got cancelled. Then, Beaver College changed their name to Arcadia University. And I heard that Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, and Lindsay Lohan SHAVED theirs! I don't even wanna know what that means.

Yeah, it's not easy being North America's largest rodent. The American Indians used to revere me. Now, you Americans accuse me of messing up the ecosystem with my dams, meanwhile, you're dumping crap in my river. Well, I say, dam you all to hell.

Ok, I'm sorry. That was harsh. But for over a hundred years, you dumped the most disgusting filth imaginable into the Hudson, the Bronx River and the East River, and you expected us Beavers to just stick around? The only reason I'm back is because the suburbs are so damn boring. Us Beavers like to go where the action is.

And New York City has never been a better place for beaver action. You see how many Christmas trees were out on the curb last month? Enough to build a hundred quality dams. And don't get me started on the culinary and cultural delights. The sets of "Lennon" and "High Fidelity" were delicious to chew on, and New York Magazine, you were right about new East Village hotspot Momofuku: I think they've got the best chopsticks in town.

So yeah, I'm back. But please, if you see me walking down the street, listening to my iPod, please don't get in my face and try to give me a hug. Beavers don't like to be touched without permission. And only my girlfriend gets that.

But feel free to send me an email telling me about all the hot new beaver spots in the city. You can reach me at josethebeaver@gmail.com. And please, keep our waterways clean.

Beaver, out.

By Gods! The Slippery-Slopers Were Right!!


The Evil Empire

Ok. You told me so. Go ahead. Gloat. You said that the smoking ban was just the beginning. "If they ban smoking, what will they ban next?" you said. Then they banned trans fats. "So what," I still insisted, "Not a big deal." You just shook your head and quoted Natalie Portman from Revenge of the Sith. "So this is how liberty dies. With thunderous applause."

I didn't believe you. I'm sorry.

A NY state senator just announced the city's latest foray into the business of controlling our personal health and safety:

Banning iPods and cell phones while crossing the street.

In the interests of my health, I walk back from work every day. It's about 25 city blocks. During that time, not wanting to have my eardrums assaulted by the not-so-delightful sounds of the city, I listen to my iPod. Occassionally, I talk on my cell phone.

Now, I am not an idiot. I look when I cross the street. I suspect most people do. But for some reason (stupidity), some people don't. And these people sometimes get hit by cars (or crazy delivery men speeding on their bicycles). Darwin would say this is a perfect example of natural selection, and we should just let things be. I believe it was he who said, "If the dumb among us refuse to look when they cross the street, then they deserve to be removed from the gene pool." Or maybe that was said by me.

But now, New York State Sen. Carl Kruger (also known as Darth Sidious), wants to make a law that punishes the smart and dumb alike by banning the use of electronic devices while crossing the street. Pedestrians would be punished with a $100 dollar fine if caught listening to Hootie and the Blowfish while crossing Houston Street. $1000 if they're caught listening to Hootie's later solo work (that's REALLY damaging to your health.)

I have no desire to switch off my iPod at every intersection. Or hang up on my ninety-year-old Grandpa because I'm about to step onto the crosswalk. I don't feel I should be punished because a few stupid people chose to stroll into oncoming traffic rather than look up from scrolling through their collection of New Kids On The Block tunes.

You saw this coming. What's next indeed? Why not ban Magnolia cupcakes? Too much sugar is bad for you! Ban Frisbee in Central Park... You could hit someone! Ban Dog Walking? Dogs might attack somebody! Ban the view from the top of the Empire State Building... Someone could jump off! Shouldn't we ban Broadway shows? "CATS" can cause seizures!! Before you know it, every cultural activity, trend and comfort will be stripped from our beloved New York City, leaving only a dire wasteland of increasingly expensive trendy steakhouses, which will serve nothing but prime cuts of grass-fed Japanese tofu.

You tried to warn me this would happen. You tried to tell me that banning "bad" things would lead to banning good things. You tried to tell me Bloomberg was an evil Cyborg from a distant alien planet. I wasn't listening before, I admit, but I certainly will now.

Right after this song.


-----------------------

Write To Rep. Carl Kruger at kruger@senate.state.ny.us and tell him not to ban our iPods!!!!

-----------------------