In the context of a blog like this one, you’d expect that with today’s title, I’d be talking about dressing an escort in white for her wedding. But that’s not the gist of today’s mindless observation. I logged on to talk about THE HIGHLINE, the city park which runs from Gansevoort to 34th Street on the west side of Manhattan.
For a bit of history, the Highline is actually an old railroad track from yesteryear, a patch of urban detritus many people simply wanted to blow up and cart off. But whom other people would term urban visionaries decided to convert the junkyard/jungle of weeds and overgrowth into a park. Continue Reading
I was pedaling uptown recently, headed to Central Park to view all the natural wonders on seasonal display, when who should I run into? An old escort client. So I hit the brakes to talk for a spell and came to discover a juicy piece of gossip. Rumor has it that the state is getting ready to indict an eighth GC conspirator. But one of my alleged colleagues’ lawyers (who conveyed the information) doesn’t know the identity of the state’s target.
You don’t have to be familiar with the particular organization to know that with two locations running 7 days a week, there had to be many unapprehended promoting on a daily basis! So it’s anybody’s guess who’s in the crosshairs. Continue Reading
I wrote this 2 days before my federal sentencing and then decided not to publish it. But after deleting a paragraph which would just be of too much interest, I’ve changed my mind.
Often psychologists both amateur and professional characterize escorts as dead inside. Which I would interpret as meaning whatever traumatic event they’d suffered which would allow them to do what they do has rendered the girls heartless sociopaths. Well, I wouldn’t venture an opinion on whether there’s any validity to that theory. But I can tell you that the dual prosecution of Dollar Bill by the state and federal governments has left me dead inside. Continue Reading
I was always curious as to how many readers of this blog would stick around after I deleted all the advertisers from the sidebar. And once I did just that, I got my answer: Not very many. A small fraction in fact. But lest I think I write in a total vacuum, that assumption was dashed yesterday when an obscure video I posted on You Tube received a snide comment the author of which was a person from my past.
Initially, when I saw the name, I associated this individual with a guy by the same first name who married an Action mag hooker and coincidentally used to work at the same taxi publication as did I.
“How would Warren find this?’ I wondered. But after a couple of minutes I realized “Hey! Wait a minute! That’s not Warren from Taxi Talk who made that comment. It’s Warren from the Belmonts!” Regardless, I still wondered how any Warren would find that video given there is no reference to my last name in its authorship! Continue Reading
The recent midterm elections brought some interesting results beyond the obvious (Democrats now control the house). Just for (another) example, a mere 516 years after Columbus didn’t land in the United Sates of America (and never did on any of his four voyages to the New World), the USA has its first native American congresswoman. Her name is SHARICE DAVIDS, and this woman appears to be a force to be reckoned with.
Like…you wouldn’t want to pick a fight with Ms. Davids. She’ll kick your ass in court (she’s a lawyer). And if that doesn’t work, she’ll just plain kick your ass. (Sharice Davids is a mixed martial arts fighter.) And in case you’re so inclined, I wouldn’t use any homophobic slurs around her. She identifies as lesbian. But to be serious…our first native American congressperson? Not a good look! Continue Reading
I think we can all agree that every person has his or her strong and weak points. Even the biggest loser has something going for him or her – and the biggest winner a losing quality. Today I cite two different people from very different social sets as examples.
I begin with the US Attorney who prosecuted me. Brendan is a smart enough guy. If he passed the New York State bar, that says something right there. Because he’s intelligent and hard-working, Mr. King got himself a job with the US government lowering the boom on guys like me. Life is good. He operates within the law and leads a moral life (though you can never be sure after reading about the ex-New York State DA and the way he allegedly treated his girlfriends). Continue Reading
Of all the hare-brained schemes gone awry, The Great Kite Flying Caper had to be one of the stupidest. From A to Z, this was a bad idea.
Along with the ham radio crap and all the 78’s my father left behind after my parents’ divorce, the old man had a canvas box kite stashed in the basement of my boyhood home. I should mention that back in those days, every kid flew a kite. The folks would buy virtually every young boy a stupid paper deal and then father and son would attach it to a spool of string and fly it maybe 100 feet in the air. Big fucking whoop! So in keeping with being the coolest dad on the block, our father trumped everybody by whipping out the old box kite and really lettin’ the bad boy fly. Now that was flyin’ a kite! Continue Reading
Ok, all you swells and foodies out there. Given the choice, would you rather eat the food served at a soup kitchen – or a county jail? As you might guess, I could be classified as a leading authority among people who read this blog. And the answers might surprise you. First, not all soup kitchen food is born equal – American soup kitchen notwithstanding. Some is much better than others.
At the bottom of the barrel lies the Catholic Worker. For a few reasons. Like the place is unsanitary. Nobody wears gloves, aprons or hair nets. And while the soup served there is chock full of nutritious veggies, it also contains a significant amount of dirt owing to either improper rinsing of those vegetables or a poorly-cleaned soup pot. And mostly, the soup tastes shitty because the cooks suck. On the other hand, the coffee is passable. Still, I’d give the CW a C- overall. Continue Reading
Limited by the few public transportation routes which leave a carless dude like me at trailheads, I tend to take the same hikes repeatedly. Of course, I could rent a car or take a taxi from a depot to surmount a new obstacle. But somehow, it just seems easier to take the path of least resistance.
So anyway…it’s usually one of two public transportation modes I use. Either the bus to Bear Mountain…or the train to Cold Spring. Together they offer maybe a dozen different hikes. Bear Mountain, what you would assume is an obvious trek, is one I hadn’t done for a few years owing to its heavy people traffic and road to the top which always leaves the summit overpopulated with people who didn’t “earn” the view. Continue Reading
While the great majority of people who read this blog have paid to get laid, I’m reminded of a guy who actually got paid to get laid in the course of writing a story for a magazine I once co-published. His name is MIKE EDISON, and I mention him today after commencing to read what is apparently his fourth published work. It’s a quicky titled “You’re a Complete Disappointment,” a quote from his very own father on his deathbed!
I always found Edison to be a curious mix of talent, slovenliness and ego. I’m not sure I would have disagreed with his father if he’d been my kid. Let me explain. Mike was the editor of Screw Magazine while I sold ads for the rag and co-ran Escort Magazine out of the same office. While I wrote some stuff for Screw, Edison did not contribute to Escort until one day, I needed to guarantee a story to a prospective new client who would only pay for an advertisement if she got that story as a perk. Continue Reading
So I’m doing one of my usual hikes yesterday, but this time in reverse. Breakneck via the back door is a lot easier than the normal way. I can tell you that. Just so you do an up and back rather than descending on the steep part, it’s a breeze.
Maybe 3/4 of the way through the ascent, I walk up on a lone hiker wearing a light pea green shirt you could see from a hemisphere off. As he passes I say hi and comment “Nobody’s gonna miss you out here.” To which he responds “That’s the point.” And just a few hundred yards later, I see a couple sporting bright orange vests. Suddenly it occurs to me there might be a reason for all this bright attire. So I ask. And sure enough, I get a logical answer. It’s bow season and who knows what knucklehead deer killer might have an antsy trigger finger and mistake a hiker for fair game? Continue Reading
Reading a recent New York Times article describing a hustle perpetrated on a new wave escort website masquerading as a sugar baby outfit, I recall a couple of instances when the hunter got captured by the game with girls I sold ads to.
Because of the stigma attached to women selling their favors, practitioners of the trade are often sociopathic predators and their customers helpless prey. But sometimes the prey becomes the predator, thus my “hunter gets captured by the game” title.
One night, a man arrived at a European girl’s apartment after answering an ad in the vaunted New York magazine, a publication known for the swells that read it. True to form, the man was dressed in an Armani suit and Gucci loafers. He introduced himself with style and class and proceeded to impress the girl with not just his attire – but prowess as well. Afterwards, he lavished her with praise, promised to become a regular, and then handed her a sealed envelope with the contribution – which she discovered after he left was stuffed with pieces of paper. Bang! The hunter got captured by the game. Continue Reading
It was way back in 2001 or early 2002. I called Gina’s Dreamland on a Thursday afternoon to arrange the pickup for her weekly New York Press ads when Gina answered her phone to say “Guess who I have here!” It was DENNIS HOF! Allegedly, he was in the room with two girls. “Come on over. I’ll introduce you!” she offered before I ended the conversation.
Thirty minutes later I met Dennis for the first time. He had my escort publication under his arm – which is how he’d found Gina’s in the first place. She was one of my advertisers.
Dennis had a freelance writing gig for LARRY FLYNT at the time – an assignment to cover New York city fast houses. He wanted to follow me around the next day. And I wanted an intro to Flynt. He got what he wanted. And of course, I didn’t. Continue Reading
I’m a cheap guy. Anybody who knows me will tell you that. Not disgustingly cheap, mind you. But close. If Raisin Bran…or solid white Bumble Bee tuna…or Apple and Eve apple juice go on sale? I’ll buy a backpack full of the stuff and hope that by the time it runs out there will be another sale. There’s really no need for all that parsimony. I think I got if from my grandmother, who was the cheapest person I’ve ever met. Continue Reading
How many times have you heard or conducted a conversation like the following? Person one: Hey! How ya doin’?” Person two: “Ok! Yourself?” Of all the meaningless wastes of breath! Yet, it seems inescapable…the insipid “How ya doin'” greeting. So bored with this sort of exchange, I’ve endeavored to give it some meaning – or at least a unique quality. For a while I opted for “Shitty. But if I complained who’d want to listen?” Continue Reading
Baseball and Ballantine. It’s a combination you can’t beat!
In honor of the season being over for the Yanks, I publish this piece of nostalgia today.
When it was a game…as in…when it was a game somebody could afford to go to. Recently a friend asked me if I’d seen the Met game that day. Met game? I haven’t watched 10 minutes of baseball the entire season. Zero interest…at least until October when I might watch a game if either the Mets or Yankees are involved. But it wasn’t always that way for me.
As a child, I went to all the ball parks in the Metropolitan area. Yup! I saw the Bums lose a twin bill at Ebbets Field. I watched Jimmie Pearsall run the bases backwards when he hit his 100th career home run at the Polo Grounds. I was at the park when Roger Maris hit his 61st home run. And best of all, I saw Mickey Mantle pinch hit a home run at the original Yankee Stadium when he was drunk! Continue Reading
In previous posts, I’ve described freaks who have stalked the girls and made their lives miserable. So it should come as no surprise that I have a few of my own. These guys have become so abusive, nefarious and sick that I have to require legitimate login information in the comment section. I’ve traced the two most egregious “no-lifers” to the Bushwick and Prospect Park neighborhoods. But really, there’s no way to find out who they are without the aid of someone who would only do the job at a huge price. And then what would I do, realistically? If I get arrested, I’ll be remanded. The judge said as much.
It’s unfortunate that guys who don’t know me can be this sick and with nothing better to do than kick a guy when he’s down. I can only conclude that as fucked up as my shit is…theirs is worse. But such is life. Most readers are not prone to commenting at this point anyway so no big deal.
P.S. I should add that I’ve kept most of those nasty submitted comments in a folder – and they contain the senders’ ip address.
As I’ve noted before, pimps are prevalent in all strata of society. It’s only those individuals who traffic women (or men) and take all the money earned from their chattel selling sex who wear the ugly moniker.
Well anyway…I was doing my laundry at a laundromat out on the boulevard yesterday (yes, my building has machines in the basement but they are in no way equal to the task of cleaning a bachelor’s clothing) and as I waited for my clothes to dry, began reading last week’s feature in the Voice about the dangers and hypocrisy involved in the country’s national pastime – football. Continue Reading
There are just a few television shows I watch religiously. And as you might guess, THE DEUCE is one of them. It’s not that I think it’s so well done or entertaining. I just like reliving New York in the ’70’s while sitting in judgement on the depiction of an industry I came to know all too well.
One scene last night brought back memories of a girl who called herself Hana. Like with many of the Korean clients I ran ads for, my relationship with Hana lasted over a decade. And often, I’d watch girls like Hana grow from simple floor girls to madams who no longer worked in the room. Unknown to most customers, Korean girls seemed to have an entrepreneurial spirit lacking in women of other nationalities. One day they’d be in the room. And the next, they’d borrow money, rent a place, and own the joint. What I found most curious was the reality that some girls who “retired” to ownership did so without the help or need of a man in their lives. Hana, was apparently one of them. Continue Reading
I was just about to clear the last of what seemed like an endless succession of uphill scrambles on Breakneck Ridge when a hiker appeared in front of me descending a trail that very few people take that way. I can’t remember exactly what he said (or what I said) but it wasn’t but a few seconds later that I had a partner for the remainder of the hike.
Chris is a man who I’d reckon is in his mid-50’s – in good shape and a resident of Garrison, a nearby town. He claims to be somewhat employed but I wondered. Hiking Breakneck on a Friday afternoon? Whatever! Who am I to judge? Continue Reading
I’m not sure that everybody (or even a majority) of people who read this blog are old enough to know who PAM GRIER is. But if you asked me to pick one movie star from any era who I’d like to go on a date with, it just might be Ms. Grier.
Pam Grier played the prototypical strong woman role in 70’s blacksploitation films back when women weren’t supposed to be strong. If BRETT KAVANAUGH pulled his alleged prep boy jock shit on Pam back in the day, she’d have probably cut his dick off before you could say Jack Robinson (now I’m really showing my age).
Ms. Grier labored in what I’d call the r & b world until QUENTIN TARANTINO signed her on to play the lead in JACKY BROWN, one of my all time favorite top ten films. It was then when crossover stardom became hers. Continue Reading
Just today I was watching CBS SUNDAY MORNING, a show I rarely if ever miss. There are a handful of people who are privileged to offer video editorials. None are that compelling – especially comedian JIM GAFFIGAN – who to put it in three words…just isn’t funny. Who and what’s funny is a close relative to what is and isn’t good music. It makes you laugh or it doesn’t with the former. And it moves you or doesn’t move you with the latter.
While I was watching Gaffigan struggle through yet another humorless editorial, it occurred to me that he might be Catholic. So I did a Google search on “celebrity Catholic comedians” and found just him and STEVEN COLBERT, who I find similarly without humor. And that was it! In the great multitude of comedians, there are just two Catholics – both of whom don’t make me laugh. Continue Reading
Back when I was just 6 years old, daddy boarded a boat headed for London, England where he would re-enter the music business after a decade long sabbatical – and find himself a new wife while he was there. By the time I was 8, my parents had divorced and mom was faced with raising her two kids pretty much alone (though my maternal grandparents lived just 3 miles away).
Without a full parental scholarship – and not really the housewife type – my mother took her Columbia University degree (Barnard College, actually) and scored a job at an advertising agency – soon to become a copywriter by trade. I wasn’t really clear on what mom did for a living at the time. I just knew that she hired a housekeeper to cook and clean for $42 a week while she herself earned but $85 weekly – minus what it cost to take the LIRR to work in the big city. Clearly, my mother wanted a life besides the one she had at home with her two brats. Can’t blame her for that. Continue Reading
It would be way too time-consuming and counterproductive to dig through every forum thread written about me to correct and clarify all the inaccurate entries. Suffice it to say they are myriad. But that doesn’t mean I’m not entirely self-indulgent. So I’ll respond to the latest thread and its inaccuracies just for the fuck of it.
1. The feds were not involved as one poster stated. This is a state initiative.
2. Law enforcement did camp out in front of the locations to take pictures of people who came and went. That is correct! I don’t know who belonged to all those phone numbers. Apparently, the employees’ phones weren’t included. Only one of my many burners was listed. And it was the line I submitted to pre trial to contact me. Continue Reading
I knew it would happen sooner or later. The trolls who inhabit an escort forum I won’t name found the DAILY BEAST article about JULIE MOYA and as usual, commenced to hypothesizing in error. I take particular umbrage at this all too common occurrence because I know the authorities scrape that site for leads and I don’t need haters making statements (especially about my activities) about which they know little to nothing. So let me tell you about the State of New York Versus Julie Moya et al – and my stated role in the conspiracy.
One guy observed that I ran GC’S ads and website. Ya see…knuckleheads like this are the guys who turn my headaches into migraines. Continue Reading
It’s a speech impediment that afflicts the great majority of Americans. I’m talking about punctuating a verbalized thought with “um” and/or “ya know.” Here would be an example: “I was considering um…American foreign policy. And um…it’s about ya know…good versus evil and um…right versus wrong.” Try formulating a thought in words without injecting either “um” or “ya know.” It’s not that easy.
I remember listening to an interview with a cast member from a Woody Allen film. Asked whether she was coached on dialogue during what appeared to be an improvisational scene, the actor answered “All Woody had to offer was ‘just don’t say um.'” I’m with Woody. Continue Reading
It’s official. The world has gone to hell in a hand basket. Thank you STORMY DANIELS. You’ve pushed us over the edge.
Endless commentary about the size of DONALD TRUMP’S hands has led at least one political opponent to insinuate that maybe it isn’t just the commander-in-chief’s hands that are small. And now thanks to Ms. Daniels, we (allegedly) get the lowdown on Trump’s junk in her soon-to-be-released tell-all book “Full Disclosure.” Continue Reading
Several months ago it came to my attention that HBO was shooting at the same location where I volunteer every Saturday. And then a few weeks later, I discovered the show was actually “THE DEUCE,” a throwback epic saga about hookers and pornographic productions all taking place around the old legendary 42nd Street of 40 years ago.
Yes, I’d seen pieces from the set when humping cardboard upstairs and into the back room. But I couldn’t remember one occasion while watching the entire first year of “The Deuce” when I realized that the crew was shooting a scene where I volunteer. That changed last night. I had the “aha” moment 45 minutes into week 2 of Season 2. There it was: Cops talking shop right where I serve food to the homies! Continue Reading
I know…her real name is OMAROSA MANIGAULT. But you get the idea. Pressed for time a few days ago (the library was closing), I checked out “Unhinged,” the newly-published autobiography/expose of Donald Trump, just to have something to read. Not to worry! I might be shallow…but I’m not that much so that I take Trump’s reality token seriously.
Omarosa is essentially Donald Trump in drag. Just smarter. Her entire being seems centered around fame and fortune. Omarosa’s book is about as self-serving as it comes. But there were a few moments. Like when she reveals that Trump wanted to be sworn into the presidency not on a bible (as every president before him had) but on a copy of “The Art of the Deal!” He figured it would generate sales and be yet another excellent branding opportunity. When she admonished him about what a poor idea that was, Trump backtracked and said he was only kidding. But the big O wasn’t buyin’ it. She thought he was serious. Continue Reading
My federal pretrial officer and I are about as friendly as we could possibly be given the circumstances. Once a month I report to his office for a meeting which only requires a few minutes. But he’s actually an ok guy. So I spend a lot of time with him that I don’t have to.
Just yesterday, I was sitting in the outer office reading OMAROSA’S book (what can I say? I’ve read most of the new non-fiction at the NYPL, so I chose her bull shit) when I heard another defendant say he had to get back to work and then mentioned his pretrial officer’s name – which I noted was the same as mine. So when Robert came out and called on me first, I offered to let the guy with the job jump the line (for which he was extremely appreciative) offering “I’m reading. No problem.” Continue Reading
Well apparently, it isn’t just me and six others of my alleged co-conspirators the cops are after for promoting prostitution. It’s a regiment of their own as well!
Yesterday, 7 NYPD were arrested (including 2 detectives and 3 sergeants) charged with enterprise corruption and promoting prostitution. Dozens of others may fall in the coming weeks. Sometimes it’s difficult to suss out exactly what these cops really did to draw the ire of the authorities. But after reading a few articles (and even though the indictment is not yet available online), I’m getting the picture. And here’s where it gets interesting. Continue Reading
I just finished reading RONAN FARROW’S New Yorker article detailing the behavior that has derailed the career of entertainment icon LES MOONVES. All the accusations are pretty much the same. Talented woman takes a meeting with Les and before she knows it, the dude has his hand up her skirt…or tongue in her mouth…or is outright on top of her in a flash.
The women were all uniformly traumatized emotionally – though not physically. He didn’t actually hurt anybody. Les was just tryin’ to score. We have no idea how many women went along with the program. What we do know is that those interviewees who related that they’d rejected his advances all felt he’d derailed their careers. And more than one stated that he threatened to do just that verbally after the rejection. Continue Reading
I know I mentioned my dislike for this term and anybody who would use it in my last entry. But I feel the need to expand on the use of the phrase and those who would let it pass between his lips. The desire to “skull fuck” a woman is not cool! Nor is anybody who would seek to engage in such activity.
I wonder if the guys who enjoy skull fucking truly understand how much they hate women. I’m betting not! Fortunately, I personally have never had a cock shoved down my throat. But I have gagged a few times and I didn’t find it to be a pleasurable feeling. And I can’t imagine a woman would either. Continue Reading
Ya know…there’s hozzizz…and then there’s serious hozzizz! And SHERA BECHARD would definitely classify in the latter category. I’m sorry! I find it extremely difficult to believe that the person who looks like STORMY DANIELS’ sister was involved with ELLIOT BROIDY (big shot republican fundraiser) for anything but the money. I mean…look at this fat fuck. And look at her. If that ain’t a “C’mon, man” I don’t know what is.
I have to admit that the details of this new scandal made me laugh almost as hard as when I read that AL SHARPTON’S viagra was found in SANDY RUBENSTEIN’S medicine cabinet when the latter was subjected to a legal search pursuant to an accusation made by a stripper Rubenstein was (allegedly) drooling over. Continue Reading
Years ago I wrote an entry gently poking fun at the way some of my clients butchered the English language. Without knowing it, they’d made me laugh out loud with somewhat hysterical statements the likes of “Yes, that’s my really picture,” “Billy-ah! You can coming over,” and “Don’t go Billy-ah. I’m boring” (which as it turned out, was exactly why I was going). And it happened again yesterday courtesy not of an escort – but from the Chinese woman who runs the show at Trinity Church. Continue Reading
In a conversation with a United States District Attorney several years ago, my adversary pointed out that by not paying my taxes, I had shortchanged other citizens who do pay their fair share. And thus, I was up the creek. Fair enough. I lost 2/3rds of my stash – plus six figures in legal fees – and still face the possibility of prison. This is my reality. Continue Reading
It was a mere 46 years ago that Harper Collins published the infamous “HAPPY HOOKER” book. And I finally read it cover to cover yesterday. I know…a little late for the party. Despite its being a huge hit at the time, I mostly found it to be a snore. I think I’d heard every one of the author’s stories in some form or another a hundred times before. The only reason I actually plowed through the entire narrative stemmed from the opening chapter in which we find the HH in familiar territory (at least for me) – a holding pen at (drum roll) the Tombs. I thought a catharsis might be in the offing but alas, it was not to be.
XAVIERA HOLLANDER is hardly a sympathetic character. She describes a life in which virtually anybody who attracts her feels likewise vice versa. For regular guys like me, that happens rarely if at all. And here this skank gets lucky in that realm constantly. Call me crazy but if I’m on a party boat (fishing that is), and I see the girl hauling up the pool fish, I might want to to cut her line. What can I say? Continue Reading
It’s remarkable how quickly and easily New Yorkers can voyage to natural beauty – given the size and scope of the concrete dystopia in which we reside. You’d think it would take hours and hours and miles and miles to leave all the urban blight behind. But there’s actually a downside to nature’s proximity. No class assholes can muck up the beauty that lies so close. Continue Reading
Watching the dual sagas of PAUL MANAFORT and MICHAEL COHEN unfold is as uncomfortable as it is familiar. For I know what it is to be caught in the federal grinder. Still, as bad as it might be for me, I wouldn’t trade places with either of these guys for a million bucks.
Manafort elicits no sympathy from this guy. And here’s why: I have no patience for a schmuck who made $30 million in the course of five years and is such a conspicuous spender, he has to resort to falsifying documents in a futile attempt to get a bank loan to keep his financial boat afloat. Knucklehead! How much money do you need? And then after failing to get the funds he so sorely needed, the dude (allegedly) offers up a Secretary of the Army or Treasury job to a bank CEO to finally get that all-important loan. Bush league. What a slob. Only a guy like Trump could call him a good person. He’s a fucking douchebag. Continue Reading
So beautiful was the weather yesterday that I opted out of volunteering even though the bosses promised I would reap a veritable bounty from the pantry if I showed up. Instead I hopped the train to one of my favorite hiking trails.
Those of you who’ve ridden on Metro North are well aware that unless the train is empty, you will be seated just two feet behind the people in front of you. If they are under five feet tall you might not see them. But they are there nonetheless. Generally, we all deal with this reality in the interest of getting somewhere at a reasonable price. But yesterday when Shmoopie face and Love Doll Boy sat in front of me, I kind of wished I’d dropped a few hundred bucks on a limo. Continue Reading
As described previously, Trinity Church hosts a fair number of students who come to serve the less fortunate. Sometimes they’re from private schools – and sometimes from their public counterparts. Sometimes they’re from the NY suburbs and other times, they hail from places like Minnesota and Alabama. I find them all interesting – but none like the intellectual elite who visited this past week.
Getting a decent education in a New York City public school is a challenging proposition. I don’t think anybody would dispute that statement. Aware of this reality, educators have set up a few elite public schools to benefit those who are financially-challenged but at once intellectually gifted. To identify the elite, the city administers a standardized test, assigning each student with just a number so as not to discriminate. Nobody knows whether the student attached to that number is black, white, Hispanic, Asian, female or male. Continue Reading
When it comes to cases of mistaken identity, they are unfortunately not all that uncommon. Take a cabby I once knew named James. James was in the habit of depositing cash in an ATM around midnight each night he drove a cab (mind you, this was before credit card machines when everybody paid cash and by midnight, we’d actually have enough money to be worth killing) to avoid being “relieved” of his night’s earnings.
Well…one night he made his usual deposit. The next guy who came along and used that same ATM turned out to be a murderer – and it was his photo that should have been featured on the front page of one of the Big Apple’s tabloids. But somehow, James got the nod! By the time the morons who placed James’ picture in their tabloid figured out the mistake, they were up to their asses in a lawsuit filed by my cabby friend. Continue Reading
No doubt, the passing of ARETHA FRANKLIN has affected many people. The Queen of Soul sang the soundtrack to so many of our lives. But Aretha’s exit from this world has special meaning for me. I was just 11 years old when daddy came on one of his too rare visits after my parents’ divorce. Always with some records in tow with which to impress mom, my brother and me, daddy played a just-recorded record he’d produced on a new artist with the preface “This girl is fantastic. It’s too bad Columbia doesn’t know how to sell a black artist. Eventually, we’ll lose her. But that doesn’t diminish her amazing talent.” (I’m paraphrasing here). The new singer whose record he played that day was Aretha Franklin. Aretha’s passing almost felt like my father had died again. Continue Reading
Predictably, once the news hit the Daily News about my surprising financial riches, there were escorts who would snuggle up to me in some poorly-camouflaged attempt at accessing my wallet (which by the way, never has even a dollar inside). None of this surprised me as “the crew” are farmers of a sort – their crop being greenbacks and their farms the guys who would yield the almighty bumper crop.
But it did come as a surprise that a volunteer would bust a move – albeit with much more style and subtlety than your average flatbacker. While mingling with the volunteers last Saturday, one of the cuter girls addressed me as “Dollar Bill”…high-fived me hello (I hadn’t seen her for a while)…and then added “I need a million dollars and a pony.” Continue Reading
Every year I will at least once a) take the 60 mile bike ride from East 10th Street to the foot of the Tappan Zee Bridge on the New Jersey side – and back – and b) ride the train to Cold Spring…hike the 3 miles to the trailhead…climb Breakneck Mountain…and take the trails back to the Cold Spring station. Both take a considerable amount of effort – geriatric standing or not.
So yesterday was the Breakneck expedition. Silly me, I thought the temperature and humidity had moderated some. And maybe it had. But you wouldn’t know it by the way hikers (me included) sweated their asses off going up that ridge. It was hot! I must have mopped my brow 200 times in the course of the hike. Continue Reading
Before the last legal nightmare, my life was boring. Now? It’s beyond boring. I dare not associate with any of my old “friends” for fear I’ll catch another promotion charge. Thus, my entire interaction with other humans comes via volunteering – which I only do part time (though virtually every day) – and (sorry to say) not with people I find particularly lively. And so, if I haven’t mentioned it before, I’m bored to death.
While I pay for cable and most of the premium channels, I find it impossible to fill my day with worthy entertainment. And so…I read…and then I nap…and then I read…and then I nap…and then oh forget it. You know what’s next. Continue Reading
I know it’s hard to believe, but once upon a time I had a cute girlfriend who loved me unconditionally. I was but 19 years old and in college when I began dating Jane. In retrospect, I probably should have married her. Certainly, I wasn’t gonna do any better. But that’s all water under the bridge now. If I ever thought “Maybe I should look Jane up and see how she’s doing. We should hang out”…I can forget that now.
For what reason I can’t recall, just this past Friday, I decided to Google an old college roommate. Arnie has a very common name but I knew if I placed “MD” after that name I might find him. And sure enough, there was Arnie, a colitis and Chrone’s disease specialist, working at a hospital in Washington State – and still married with 4 children. In fact, I went to the wedding! Continue Reading
As a student of American History, I’m well aware that the rose-colored glasses our elementary, secondary and high school teachers would have us view our country through might not be founded in reality.
Just for example, we study the Mexican War and resulting annexation of the western third of our territory as if Mexico did something to start that war. But the sorry fact is the USA busted an imperialistic move on a weak nation secure in the knowledge that Mexico would capitulate and American would annex California in the deal. And leave us not talk about how the invading hordes of European immigrants who would become citizens of the USA treated native Americans. We all know about that. Continue Reading
Ah yes! The buildup is unmistakeable. Almost like the week before Superbowl Sunday. The midterm elections are just two days away! I wonder if a guy can bet on the outcome. For someone who’s hemorrhaging money to lawyers and the bond market, I could use a sure thing. Where would I put my money were I a betting man? Answer: I’d place it on the stupidity of the electorate. Never underestimate the incredible presumption and ignorance of the American voter and you’re sure to come out a winner.
Ask yourself this: Can you name the three branches of American government? If you actually can, you’re a member of a significant minority (only 25% of Americans can answer that question correctly). Ten percent of Americans think Judge Judy is a Supreme Court Justice! I could go on with more statistics that actually are fact. But why bother? You get the idea. Continue Reading
I know it’s an old joke. But I couldn’t help but laugh when reading BURT REYNOLDS’ observation on DONALD TRUMP in the former’s biography: “Donald Trump is the kind of guy who was born on third base and thought he hit a triple.” I mention this after the New York Times published a 13,000 word expose just yesterday – detailing the $491 million (in today’s money) that Trump’s father gave him over the years. Donald Trump may portray himself as a self-made man. But the New York Times begs to differ. Continue Reading