Cameltoe Corner

Those are not Yes jeans. Those are No Jeans. So to speak.

Happy BIrthday Blake

Hey I didn't want to miss the birthday of another one of my original commenters.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLAKE!

Many happy returns of the day dude!

Ooooohhhhhhhh Yoko!

So this dude comes into the store selling sunglasses out of his car. Some of them are pretty weird and I had to try them on so the wife could judge just how stupid they would look.

They looked pretty stupid.  Yoko Ono stupid if you ask me.

Needless to say we are  not buying any.

Happy Birthday Chickie

It seems our good friend and primo commenter Chickenlittle/El Pollo Raylan  has a birthday.

Happy Birthday buddy!

I hope you have a happy and prosperous year!

Joey Gallo's Lament

Cousin Mick looked at Little Joe and said “So what do you have to say for yourself you greasy piece of shyte. Don’t be wasting my time boyo or you will live to regret it.” “I can’t spill it here Detective. I don’t want everyone to hear our business. Can’t we go somewhere to talk private like.” “Ah its secrets he’ll be telling me now Liam doncha know?” Uncle Liam grunted. “Well I suppose we can sit over in the booth in the back. Ryan you stay at the bar. Excuse me Uncle.”

Mick got up and walked to the single booth in the back near the juke box. It had filthy stained leather and a big rip in one of the seats where you could see the stuffing and the springs. Toomy’s wasn’t much for maintenance. Or cleaning. Or sanitation. Even the roaches scieved it. Mick sat on the cleaner side and beckoned to Little Joe and had him sit on the broken seat. Little Joe sat down and shivered.

“So you slimy douchebag what do you have to say for yourself” said Cousin Mick? “I want to thank you for letting me go Detective. So I thought I could help you out. You know the beating of the longshoreman over at the Three Fours?” “I am aware” said Cousin Mick. “What do you know?” “Well I saw Apples from down the Slope and the Snake grab him up and take him into a car that day. He owed the vig for the last three months and they were going to fuck him up. As an example or something. That Apples don’t know his own strength the fuck.” “Now I know you are funning with me. There is no way that the Snake would be running a shy down in Red Hook. The Gallo’s would blow them up.” “They are pushing their way into the neighborhood Detective. The word is that Old Man Profaci gave them the go-ahead. The Gallo’s are on the way out. Everybody knows.”

Cousin Mick looked at him doubtfully.  There was some truth to what this knucklehead was saying. “So you are telling me that you are going to testify against the Snake? Somehow I don’t believe that.” “Testify? Who the fuck said anything about testifying? I just wanted to give you the info Detective but I ain’t gonna testify…no way…no how.” “Listen dummy if I want you to testify you are going to testify. Now get the fuck out of here and go straight home. I want you to stay home for the next couple of days. If I hear you are out in the bars with that fool Boriello I will have Ryan pay you a visit and teach you your manners.” “Ok, ok no problem. Stay home. I got it. Thank you.” Little Joe leapt out of his seat and practically ran out of the bar.

Cousin Mick sighed and slid out of the booth. He went back to the bar and sat on his stool next to Uncle Liam. He signaled Timmy who brought him a fresh glass and poured him a shot of the Irish. Cousin Mick picked it up and held it to the light. You did that in Toomy’s. Not to admire the whiskey. Just to make sure there wasn’t a roach in your drink. Danger averted Cousin Mick took a healthy sip. He looked over at his partner. Ryan sat back on his stool and belched. A pile of bones and debris sat on a plate in front of him next to a pint of cheap beer. He looked content. At least for now.

“Did you ever get a bad feeling Uncle back in the old country. That you heard something plausible but still thought it wasn’t the whole truth?” Uncle Liam snorted. “Truth is an elusive lover. You think she is in your grasp and she will slip away.” “Aye Uncle. Slip away she will.” Uncle Liam turned and looked Mick in the eye. “Watch your back with these Eye-talians. They are not to be trusted.” “Just as far as I can throw them Uncle. Just as far as I can throw them. Let’s go Ryan. To the Slope we will be going.”

Cousin Mick and Ryan got off of their stools and walked out of the bar. Uncle Liam looked down at his racing form and made a note. He still had a few hours of duty ahead of him this day. It would be couple of hours until the changing of the guard.

The Rifleman

Lucas McCain was in town when the Sheriff called him over to talk to him.
"Lucas Boy there is a problem in town. This woman has shown up and is demanding that we listen to what she has to say. But she is isn't saying anything really. It's got me stumped."
"I don't reckon that can be too much of a problem Micah. Let's go talk to her."
"Howdy Ma'am.  My name is Lucas McCain and I hear you have a problem."
"I don't have a problem big boy. In fact I am not a Ma'am chico. I am a woman born into the body of a man so I have to wear my petticoats to feel right. Your sheriff has the problem. He won't let me go into the ladies out house. Now that is not fair. Or right."
"Well here in Northfork a man is a man and the sheep are nervous. Errr... what I mean is that you have  to pick one sex and stick too it. You can't go from being a mare to a stallion. It just ain't natural."
"Well I don't know. You look like a stallion that might like to take a ride without worrying too much about how the horse started out in the corrall chico."
"Now now Miss that has to wait until later in my career. Right now I have to set a good example. Now please go back to your room and change into your chaps. The regular ones. Not the assless ones. Comprende?"

Whose that girl?

Her house was in Washington where all the big wigs stayed but she was famous as a pioneer woman. Her husband was quite a man. A big man. But if she fessed up she could take it all. So to speak.

Whose that girl?

Boot hill...... Boot hill.......So cold.......So still

"Why did you ask me out Marshal? I thought you were a homo?"
"No that's Doc Holliday. He likes gladiator movies. I swing both ways. I am an acrobat."
"Well that's nice but you can put me down now."
"But I like to show off my muscles carrying you around like this."
"That's fine but I want to walk on my own two feet. And one more thing."
"Yes?"
"Stop staring at my tits."

Does Innocent Until Proven Guilty Mean Anything?

Take the case of Philly receiver DeSean Jackson. The Eagles cut him and nobody has picked him up yet. Which is very strange because he is one of the best receivers in the league. Now the Eagles have let it be known it was because of his "friends and associates" who are bangers. They didn't like the people he knew or grew up with. He has never been convicted of a crime. Unlike Michael Vick. He has never served time. Unlike Michael Vick. So what's the problem? Why don't the Jets run to sign this guy. I mean they are dying for receivers. If Michael Vick can sign with no problem why not a guy who was never even arrested let alone going to jail?

I would have no problem if the Giants signed him.

This just goes to show you one thing. The Jets are fucked up.

Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, That this night, before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.

Pope Francis met with President Obama and they had a jolly old time. The Pope gave him a gift.

It was not a book with a list of all the names of the babies that died because of Obama and the Democrat parties obsession with abortion. To the point that he voted for a bill that would force doctors to let babies that survive a botched abortion die to satisfy radical feminists. Not a list of the Catholic Charities that had to close and not offer adoption services because they were forced to place children with gay couples. Not a list of Catholic hospitals that would have to close if they are forced to allow abortions. Not a list of religious orders that are being forced to provide birth control and abortions in the health plans or face multimillion dollar fines.

I know the excuse that will be offered. "This is not the time or the place." "The Pope shouldn't embarrass the President." "The Pope is more concerned with social justice and income inequality."
"What would be gained by insulting the President?"

In a thread I read recently there was a discussion of what it meant to be a "Fool for Christ." It does not seem that this Pope is familiar with that particular gospel.

Who is fooling who?

I am a little tired of basketball

I think they have to change the game.

Dog photos that Meade does not want us to see

I think the ASCPA should check his computer. I think there is something very rotten going on. Maybe they should have Darma's husband and his team should check this out. Just sayn'

Marilyn's Diary

Aunt Lily never got over the fact that Uncle Herman left her for Carol Herman. She partied with a bunch of hippie weirdo's at some Ranch in the Valley. She drank and took pills and had a lesbian affair with this writer bitch name Susie or Susann or something.

The worst was the tattoo's. She got bats and vampires and monsters and of course one of Uncle Herman. But the worst was the one she got right above her vagina. It said "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here."

Aunt Lily was fucked up.

Button Man

I have been running around trying to get all the stuff ready for the shipment to Japan. So we had to go to the button store to get the leather buttons the Japanese wanted on the coats they bought from us.

There are a bunch of fabrics and notions and button and zipper stores in the Garment Center and we hit a bunch of them to find the fabric and notions we needed. We got most of them and had to get back in time to work in the store. It was a busy week.

Combination Camel Toe Corner and Whose that Girl?

Here's a combination shot. Celebrity Camel Toe Corner and a whose that girl all wrapped in lip hugging stretch pants.

She is married to a famous judge but was once married to a famous homosexual. Whose that girl with the camel toe?

Another one bites the dust

Television without pity which is a website about television shows has announced that it is going out of business in April. That is pretty surprising since it was a very popular site with plenty of commenters. I enjoyed reading it and loved to comment even though I was banned no less than five times. Hee. I just registered with a new name and tried again. But I always broke the rules.

The site was purchased by Bravo and I guess they got tied of all of their shows being trashed in the comments. So they are closing it down.

Closing down the comments are what pussies do when they can't stand the heat. So to speak.

If you know Game of Thrones you will love this.....

 

This is pretty funny. You have to know the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and the Game of Thrones to know how funny this really is.

The only husband at the table

I have to go to another dinner meeting tonight where I am the only husband. This happens to me all  the time. Both in business and professionally.

It reminds me of Ken Todd. His wife Lisa Vanderpump is the mainstay of two reality shows: "The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills" and "Vanderpump Rules." Recently he was at a dinner and the crap was flying and he had enough. He was all "This is stupid" and "This is nonsense." I feel for you buddy. Sometimes you want to shout that to the heavens but you just have to sit their quietly.

Heck of job Artie Bucco

So I have been telling you that I see Artie Bucco all over  the neighborhood lately. Artie or John Ventimiglia (his real name) has just moved into  Carroll  Gardens this winter and I see him almost every day. He has a role on the Tom Selleck  vehicle "Blue Bloods" which films in New York so I guess he wanted to come back to Brooklyn. I know he used to live in Park Slope and now lives a few blocks from me in Carroll Gardens.

All this winter he was walking up and down Court St wearing a hat and sunglasses and talking into his handsfree Blue tooth like a crazy person. I ran into him at the deli a couple of times as he is getting some cold cuts from Gourmet Fresh which is on the corner of my block. That is the joint where Danny the Deli Clerk from Masteleone's ended up after they sold out to some yuppies. The Arabs who used to run Key Food set up this up scale grocery but are smart enough to hire a neighborhood guy to run the deli counter so they don't lose the old timers so much. Anyway this mook had ordered some cold cuts when I came up and started bantering with Danny. "What do you want now?" "Hey take it easy and slice your baloney you miserable Popeye look alike before I write another bad Yelp review you miserable prick." He was watching us with his eyes bugging out. You see some hipster twat wrote a nasty review about the deli counter and I think she mentioned me. She went and demanded that Danny change his gloves when he sliced her order because she was allergic to gluten or something. She mentions that she overheard some body talking to the clerk and making fun of her. I bet that was me.

Anyway guess what happens? Artie decides to walk into Lee Lee's. He was shopping for sunglasses of which we have a couple of big displays. Now they are mostly girlie but we have some aviators that can go either way. I wasn't there at the time as I was dealing with the sewer line repair back at the apartment. But Lisa had a chance to talk to him. He introduced himself as John and Lisa didn't let on that she recognized him. He was looking for a specific type of shades that we didn't have but she gave the spiel that she always does about how we are opening a new store in the back but we have plus sized clothes that she designed and manufactured. He was impressed and said he had some friends who are always looking for quality plus sized clothing. Maybe Janice? Anyway he was very nice and Lisa had a nice conversation with him.

I bet he is going to come back because guys like that all ways want to be in with the in crowd.. So now Lee Lee's can be a place he  can come in the neighborhood where people know him and he can get the scoop on what is happening. My question is this. Should I run up a quick script for "Blue Bloods" that he can submit to the powers that be. His character is an Italian American Chief of Patrol who is one of the underlings to the Commissioner played by Tom Selleck.  I figure we can use the story of the two mooks who got in a knife fight at Joes Supperette over the cooze that ran the card store. John's character can be the uncle of the girl who had moved out of the neighborhood but has to come back to deal with the two Mafia familes that are involved in the dispute. I think it would be pretty easy to write a script for that show.  You got Mob guys, violence, the neighborhood. You know my specialty. You just have to make the Commissioner be a pompous dick, the daughter the DA be a commie cunt and the New Kid on the Block detective  be an asshole. Simple.

Of course it is a dick move to hand somebody a script like that. Even though he might be into it since it would have a great role for him in it. I wouldn't do it. But it would be pretty funny.

Have you ever read Robert Conroy?

He is a pretty interesting writer. He specialize in alternative history. His most recent work is "Liberty: 1784 The Second War of Independence. It is pretty good.

The book starts with the execution of George Washington who is beheaded in the Tower of London after being defeated at the battle of Yorktown. The revolution has failed and many of the leaders have been captured and imprisoned. But a core of rebels remain and they have migrated to the Chicago area where they build an independent state called Liberty. The Brits decide to crush the rest of the rebellion and send an army to destroy the rebels.

Conroy mixes historical figures like Benjamin Franklin, Banastre Tarleton, Simon Ginty, George Rodgers Clark and General John Burgoyne with fictional characters of his own creation. He crafts an interesting and plausible alternative history that is great reading for fans of the Revolutionary period.

Highly recommended.

The only understand a boot on their throat.

I am really enjoying the Legal Insurrection blog hosted by Professor Jacobson. It is a real legal blog by a real professor who talks about legal issues and current events like an adult.

He has been following the attempts of radical pro-Palestinian groups on campus who are trying to eject Israeli on more correctly Jewish people from campus. They have gone so far as to distribute eviction notices to individual Jewish students. Now there has been a lot of push back and these attempts at intimidation have mostly failed. So these knuckleheads are talking about "direct action."

You know what that means. Violence. Or threats of violence. And you know that the pussy liberal academics are going to collapse like a cheap suitcase. The only thing that Arabs understand is a boot on their throat.

I hope the Jewish community has a leader who will stand up for the old rules. You know. An eye for an eye. Because that is the only thing that will keep them safe.

This is what abortionists are all about.

I followed a link from Legal Insurrection to a story on Breibart about England. It seems some hospitals in England have been using aborted babies as fuel to heat their hospitals. They are taking the broken tortured flesh of human beings who were ripped from their mothers womb and throw in with the general trash. Paper. Tissues. Cardboard. Babies. All grist for the mill.

This to me is what pro-abortion people are all about. They have no respect for human life. In any respect. They are monsters. Monsters.

Chuck is starring in a Movie! Amiee is so proud!

Props to Synova and Lem for alerting me to the forces of LARPing run amock!

Whose that Girl?

She had a friend who loved to pour ketchup on her very slowly. He was the opposite of humble and did not play in humble pie. But she is not defined by her lovers. Only by her talent. A famous singer of yesteryear....many a man smeared her album covers.

Whose that girl?

Eye eye captain.

So I haven't been feeling all that good lately. Nothing serious but I am very tired these days. We are doing a lot of work and it is taking a lot out of the both of us are just exhausted. But I have been having a problem with one of my eyes.

I have been having it throb for a while and now I am starting to see flashes in my extreme peripheral vision. Sort of like a flashlight would make out in the woods. I was pretty worried. I thought I was having a stroke.

So I go to the cardiologist to be sure and it all checks out.  My numbers were good and the doctor said I had nothing to worry about. I wasn't having a stroke. The throbbing was just stress. It happens to everyone. But he told me I had to go to the Ophthalmologist right away to get it checked out.

Good luck with that on short notice. The guy my mom went to didn't have an appointment until May 23 and the local guy from Third Place didn't have an appointment until the middle of April. So I went on the internet to find the next  available appointment that day. There was one. Downtown. On Willoughby St.

Now I have to explain about downtown Brooklyn. When I was a kid it was a treat to go downtown to all the department stores. My mom would bundle us up and take us on the bus to go shopping. Abraham and Strauss. EJ Korvetts. Mays. Mc Cory's.  You would go from floor to floor. She would buy clothes on one floor. House goods on another. It was a big treat for us to go to the toy department. The streets would be filled with happy shoppers around the holidays. Families out shopping in Brooklyn's great shopping area before there were malls or stuff like that. Before people would go to Jersey to beat the sales tax.

Now it is totally different. There is a very different vibe. Sort of hip hop with an undertow of violence. We got out of the cab and went to the doctors. He checked me out thoroughly and I was ok. It seems that it is just part of getting old. We all get floaters in our eyes. That is the jelly breaking away from the membrane or something.  The streaks are when it is in the process  of breaking away. My eyes check out perfectly. I just have to watch out if it is like the forth of July. Then it would be a detached retina. Otherwise it is just the result of becoming an even older white man.

Did you ever listen to a Crack Emcee diatribe about how it feels being the only black guy in a crowd. Imagine that in the opposite. Sort of a film negative so to speak. Just me and Lisa. Oh and the doctor.

Anywho when we were done we decided to walk to Macy's so Lisa could get some make up. It was quite a trip. When we get there it was pretty much the same as the doctors office. Right in the  middle of the store they set up a DJ booth and were rocking out to hip hop tunes. The employees were dancing instead of working which made shopping a joy. We got our stuff and we got out of there.

Thankfully everything is all right. I just have to rest more. Under doctors orders.

Problems of a shopkeeper

One of my big problems is that I know too many people on Court St. Not just regular people but the business owners. It always comes back to bite me in the ass.

You might remember that I led the charge against the Business Improvement District that they wanted to institute on Court St. This is the scam where they collect extra money from property owners to hire homeless people to sweep and put up flowers and bullshit like that. Basically extorting money from businesses to do the stuff that the city should do anyway. Most of the dues goes towards administration because they have to hire someone to run it. This sinecure always goes to some politically connected douchenozzle who has that rice ball while he works on someone's campaign. So I went to the meetings and lead the charge against it.

The way it works is they charge the landlords up to 5% of their Real Estate Tax as an additional assessment for this business improvement district. Which the landlord will then pass on to the stores. That is about $3,000 to me. For what? So some crack head welfare baby daddy can get a pretend job pushing a broom while he sexually harasses woman passerby's. It seems that there had to be a vote and they needed a certain percentage to not approve it and it wouldn't get through. I went up and down Court St and got enough proxies to stop it in it's tracks. I had all the guineas from Carroll Gardens and all the Syrians who owned stuff up by Atlantic Avenue and all of the Chinese people who owned anything. The people who were for it were the incipient hipsters boutiques and the chain stores and banks.

This all happened in 2008. The other guys who helped me were Joe from Marco Polo, Vinnie from Mastellone's, the guys from Good Food and John who owns Sal's pizza. Well Vinnie and the Good Food guys sold out this year to banks who have their store fronts. Joe is still with me but his solution is to put out a hit on somebody. The problem is with John from Sal's Pizza.

Carroll Gardens is a land of beefs. You get in a beef with a guy and you don't talk for twenty years. Like Louie from Casa Rosa. We were very friendly until one day he screwed me on a big dinner and I stopped going to his joint. He lost  about $10,000 a year in business that I brought to Marco Polo. You know client dinner's and big events. I used Marco Polo for the show which really pissed Louie off.

There was a similar problem with John. I tried to bring some business to him but the scumbag producer refused to send the crew there or let anyone eat there. So he was kind of pissed at me. Or jealous. I have told this story before. One day I was walking by and he called me over. "Hey I am getting my own reality show." "Wow that's great man even though it is not all that it is cracked up to be. What channel?" "Channel 4 WNBC." "Holy shit that is network not cable. That's a big deal. What's it going to be called?" "You ever here of Gordon Ramsey?"

That's right. His restaurant Mama Maria's was on Gordon Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares. They trashed the shit out of him. They went to his freezer and took out chicken cutlets that had been there since I was in grammar school. Once the wife saw that she refused to ever go there again. So we stopped going every week. I would try to have a slice of pizza or three whenever I could but it was not the same. So I knew he was hurt that I didn't go there anymore.

Well I run into Vinnie Mazzone of Ace Hardware and he tells me they are starting up this BID bullshit again. And that John the pizza guy is for it now. That he changed his mind and so should I.  I have to laugh. I haven't changed my mind. But I did change my lease so the landlord can't pass the increase on to me. So it won't affect me. I shouldn't give a shit. I will go to speak against it but I am too sick to lead the charge this time.

My problem will be is that I bet they will try to  elect me to the oversight committee. I don't have the time or the strength for that.

I need to move to Florida.

Mayor de Blasio brings people together.

So they broke my washing machine when they were putting the radiator back in the foyer where you go out to the back yard. The Chinese guy who was installing the radiator kept leaning on and banging the machine until it didn't work anymore. So I had to call the repair guy who had come once before to fix it up for me.

Now I can't live without my washer and dryer. We are way too busy to go to the Laundromat like we used to back in the day. Also the wife is way too fussy about her clothes to let some Mexican clean them with cheap soap and inferior fabric softener. Usually I throw a load in every night while I am cooking and by the end of the night we have a bunch of clothes cleaned. This way we don't let it pile up.

I had to bring our laundry this week and it was a major pain in the ass. So I pushed the guy to come and fix the machine. He has a store and Bay Ridge and he looks somewhat like this:

Mohammed is a devout Muslim with a milky eye because he had a stroke. He had the cap and a long salt and pepper beard. Just the kind of guy you know I could get along with.

But strangely enough we had a lot in common. We are both small businessmen and we both really hate Bill de Blasio. Mohammed used to have three stores and now he is down to one and is barely holding on. The taxes and work rules and signage rules and fines and penalties are conspiring to drive him out of business. He asked me "How can we stay in New York. They are driving us out." I had to agree. We both agree that New York will soon be only the very rich and the very poor. The middle class and the business owners are just going to move out of the city all together. Mohammed knows what de Blasio is all about. That he is on the side of the criminals and not the business owners. That he wants to implement a punitive tax schedule. Even a guy with one eyeball can see the writing on the wall.

He fixed up the machine and is going to come to the store to look at my air conditioning. He wants me to meet up with him and some of his friends for coffee on Atlantic Avenue to discuss what small businessmen can do. I asked him if he wanted to set up a "cell." He laughed.

But you know what. I am thinking about it.

Joey Gallo's Lament

We spent the day at Grandma’s house with my cousins from Staten Island. It was the typical Sunday feast. A big pot of pasta. Today it was fusilli. Meatballs and sausages that we made little sandwiches out of with the hot crusty Italian bread I brought home from Mazzola’s on Union St. Stuffed artichokes and an eggplant caponata and some stuffed mushrooms. A big salad with fresh greens, red onion, black olives and fanoik. Made with fresh vinegar the Grandma had made. She took the coca-cola bottle off the windowsill that had been fermenting the vinegar. She put her finger at the end of the bottle as she sprinkled it over the salad that she tossed in a battered square metal pan that served as her salad bowl. My uncles had bought all kinds of fancy dishes but she went with the old battered pieces and saved the rest for company. And of course espresso and the miniature pastries. 

It might seem strange that even little kids were drinking espresso but that is the way it was. When I first went to school me Da had to walk me to my Grandmother’s house on Henry Street. He had to leave for work early in the morning so he dropped me off at around seven in the morning. I would stay at my Grandma’s until about a quarter after eight and then walked to the school yard on Cheever Place which was around the corner. You walked around the corner and the Crossing patrol would cross you over to the other side of the street.  

I would sit at Grandma’s table and have breakfast. Now breakfast wasn’t boxed cereal or pancakes or any American breakfast food. It was buttered Italian bread or a dish of olive oil with bread and olives and figs. And a cup of espresso. You see Grandma was old school and on cold mornings she thought a cup of espresso would wake you up. To this day I can drink espresso late at night and go right to sleep as it is natural and easy. The best part would be on the really brutally cold winter days. She would give me a shot of anisette to go with the espresso to warm me up. “Jamesy no you a no tell the teacher. You tell her I gave you a peppermint candy. Capisce?” So I would have a couple of espressos and a shot of anisette and go to the schoolyard. I would take off my jacket in the freezing cold and run around with my friends and the Italian nuns would shake their heads and go “The Irishe….no blood.”

We were all a little hopped up after the Sunday meal with all the sugar and caffeine. The kids all ran around on Henry St. to run off our energy. When it was time to go home to Tompkins Place we were pretty bushed. Except for me Da.

He always loved to eat at Grandma’s and was truly a gallant trencherman of the old school. He would eat and eat and east and still be as thin as a rail. The thing with him was that he wasn’t a big wine drinker like my uncles on the Italian side. My Uncle V always had a couple of jugs of wine that he got from the guy at the gas station on Hamilton Avenue. You could get your car inspection a lube job and a case of wine for a sawbuck. The wine was strong and cheap like the longshoreman who drank it. We used to get a glass cut with coca-cola that we called a calleshout. It was just right for us kids. It gave you a little buzz but not enough to get you drunk. But my Da didn’t even indulge in that. He didn’t have a taste for vino and there was very seldom any beer at the table. He would drink some Pellegrino or even some soda while he enjoyed the food. He was partial to root beer. 

When we got home it was time for the beer. 

We would get home and it was time to get ready for school on Monday. But I had a job. I would take the growler and go to Toomy’s on the corner of Degraw for some tap beer. They would fill up the growler from the tap and put it on me Da’s tab. Now Toomy’s was the real Irish bar in the neighborhood. Cold cheap tap beer. Pickled pigs feet and hard boiled eggs. Farts. Irish all the way. 

I walked into the bar and Timmy the bartender saw me and called out “If it isn’t himself come to gets his Da a wee libation. Look the whole family is gathered in all its generations.”  Everyone at the bar turned to look at me. 

It was true. My cousin Mick the detective was sitting with his partner Ryan who was gnawing on some pig’s feet. The cannibal. And next to them was Uncle Liam. He was my grand uncle actually. My grandmother’s brother. Brother of Cousin Mick’s mother. We all called him uncle. He was a small man, slight of build and quiet of demeanor. The kind of fella you would say wouldn’t say shit if he had a mouthful. When he spoke and  it was seldom it was in a lilting Irish brogue. He had come from the other side you see back in the twenties. Got a job in the elevator union in the city. Had a small apartment  near his sisters on Douglas Street and spent his time there or at his barstool at Toomy’s. Never had much to say. Except when he quoted some poetry. He knew more poetry than anyone I had ever met. Not just the Irish although he favored them. Emily Dickenson. Rimbaud. Even new stuff like Ginsberg or Robert Lowell. I think I got my love of poetry from him. The only exception was the English poets. Uncle Liam hated the English with a passion like the Arabs hate the Jews. Never had a good thing to say about perfidious Albion or its sons and daughters. 

“Hello Michael getting a little taste for you Da. You’re a good son” said Cousin Mick. “I hope you stay away from that greasy wop that lives in your building. He was down the station today Liam. Had to step up to get Joe the plumbers kid out of a jam the creature that he is. Wouldn’t give him up. Told me a fine tale that got the idjit out of a jam.” Uncle Liam grunted and looked at me. He nodded. In approval. The only thing he hated worse than Englishman was informers. 

The door opened and who walked in but Little Joe the man he was just talking about. You could hear a pin drop. Well actually you couldn’t because just at that moment Timmy Killean farted. That was pretty much all you could hear. Or smell for that matter.

“Speak the devils name and he appears at your door” said Cousin Mick. “That’s what those heathen wops always say. What do you want boy? You surely are not foolish enough to think you can drink here?” “I need to talk to you Detective” Little Joe squeaked. “In private. It’s important.” “Do you now you miserable cretin.  I have half a mind to let Ryan here put you through your paces. I bet a fine tale you would tell then you greasy dago.” Ryan looked up from his plate with a gleam of anticipation in his eye. The only thing he liked better than chomping on pork was whomping on dagos. Truth to tell he liked eating a little bit more. But not that much more. This could be fun.

“Send the boyo home Mick. He doesn’t need to see this dirty business” Uncle Liam murmured in an undertow that only I and Cousin Mick could hear. He turned to him and nodded. “Off with you now Michael your Da is waiting on his libation. Timmy put it on my tab. My best to your sainted mother Michael and get home so you can be ready for school on the morrow.” “Yes sir Cousin Mick” I bleated. I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. I didn’t want to be witness to another humiliation for Little Joe. I knew if I was he would make me pay for it one way or another. “Night Uncle Liam may God keep you safe.” “Aye thank you son same to you and yours” said Uncle Liam. “Go straight home and give my best to the family.

I picked up the growler filled with the Reingold on tap and walked out of Toomy’s without a second glance. Whatever was going on was no business of mine. I wanted to keep it that way.

Whose that girl?

She might be filed under helping you getting your rocks off during the 1970's as she had several recurring roles on some of our favorite TV shows. Also a supporting player on such shows as Kojack and Emergency she got most of the roles that Darleen Carr or Key Lenz missed out on back in the day.

Whose that girl?

Hey I always wear a hat

"That's right. I always wear a hat."
"I like to look sharp."
"Yeah I know it messes up my hair. At least I have hair."

Marilyn's Diary

My Uncle Herman was very healthy for a man of his age. He was 565 years old but he was well put together. You see the doctor in the old country was a very intelligent man. So much so that Uncle Herman didn't really like to go to see any Doctors here in California.

Well except for Dr. Lynde. He went to him every year for a prostrate exam. Which was strange because his prostrate was removable. Like every one of his organs. But he would go to the office and get lubed up and the Doctor would stick his finger up his butt. He said it helped stimulate his prostrate.

Then he would come home and stick something up my butt.

So I guess the exams worked.

Chickie says I ignore him on my blog....

I don't do that. I just don't want to spill the beans so to speak. So I keep quiet. But if you want to talk about it we can.

You just can't march in the parade. Just sayn'

Dog pictures Meade doesn't want us to see

He will borrow a dog from anyone. His neighbors. Acquaintances. Strangers. That weird kid who lives in his mothers basement across the street. That dog has one big advantage.

It comes pre-lubed.

If Star Date was like J Date

"Hello...Hello is anyone around?"
"I am down here on the floor."
"Oh.....very nice......Say are those stalagmites or stalactites ?"
"These are my tits."
"Fascinating."

Some people are always working

So this fucking guy keeps emailing me shit when I stopped interacting with him. Can't he take a fuckin' hint. Jeez.

Camel Toe Corner

I usually save this for his birthday but here is some Patriotic Camel Toe Corner staring General George Washington.

First in War, First in Peace, First President to show Camel Toe.

At least he was able to avoid Mom Jeans.

Whose that girl?

She had some great chemistry with chickie and lots of other scientists back in their days when everyone thought they were weird because they studied and stuff. He husband was famous for the being the baldest guy with the longest pony tail.

Whose that girl?

Keep the Devil down in the hole

Iron my shirts woman....

"What?"
"What do you mean you are not going to do it?"
"I know you work too. But that's woman's work."
"What?"
"Ok..Ok...yes dear... I know....No starch."

I play this for the wife all the time

Just because I was noodling on Youtube today

Hey you can see all of the commenters from TOP in the audience.

They are fucking old doncha know!

Hey I am back to my old tricks.

We have been working like dogs and ending up staying late at the store. So I am too tired to cook. I mean it gets to be about ten o'clock and I am bushed. So we decided to go to Marco Polo and splurge. I know, I know I am not going to do this more that once a week at most. I can't take it. But if I am I have to go full dog doncha think?

I ordered the gnocchi that was just off the hook good. Oh for my appetizer they had a great lentil soup and Lisa had a delicious stuffed artichoke.

Lisa had the gluten free pasta with sausage and broccoli rabe and garlic and oil. Also top of the line.

Of course I was relegated to tea as I can not have alcohol yet but Lisa had a nice glass of Malbac. So we got to top off a very busy week with a nice night out.

Worst catering hall ever!

We have been to a couple of weddings there and without a doubt it is the worst joint in the NYC area.
Owned by crazy Russians it will kill you dead if you go there twice in a month. Just sayn'

Tupelo Honey

Let them eat cake....not so fast you!

So Antonio over at Monteleone's bakery across the street is very creative in all the cakes he bakes. He is really an artist. The cakes he makes are favorites of all the kids in the neighborhood. Even big kids like me.

The bottom shelf has a lemoncello cake on the left hand corner. Then a chocolate mouse cake next to it. In the back you can see two cakes that look like hamburgers. They are strawberry short cakes made to look like burgers. The kids love that cake.

The next shelf was my downfall. On the left is a nutella cake that is out of this world. But the clam cake next to it is killing me.

This cake is cannoli cream with white cake and marzipan cheese. He is literally killing me as this is my favorite combination of all time. I have to walk past this all the time and I am always pressed up against the window like fucking Garfield jonesing at that cake. 

It's just not fair. Doesn't he realize I have a heart condition. Jeeze.

Hey I just heard from Palladian

I just heard from our pal Palladian and he said he is ok but not really on the net right now as he has other things going on.

He should know that we are all supportive of him in our own unique and special ways and that we are all in his corner.

Just please stop emailing me photos. Okey dokey?

Whose that girl?

Other than KD Laing she is just about the best singer out there singing today. She is not famous for her looks but she usually looks a lot better than this. Every other knucklehead is singing one of her songs this year on American Idol. Here you can catch her walking the pavement outside the Grammies.

Whose that girl?

Dog photos that Meade does not want you to see

It is so gay over at their house that they even turn out the poor dogs that they borrow. Those poor dudes never had a chance.

Camel Toe Corner

I can't till it gets warm. Soon enough it will be Memorial Day. That's my favorite holiday. Baseball is in full swing. Time for barbeques. Hot dogs. The Indy Five Hundred. Led by the pussy car.

I mean the pace car.

Well you know what I mean.

We haven't heard from Palladian lately

I am sure he is just enjoying life out in the suburbs. He has to make some compromises.

He has to share his hot tub with the ladies.

But when you are out of Brooklyn you have to make do.

Hope all is well with him. Hope to hear from him soon.

Whose that girl?

England swings like the pendulum do and so did this swinging chick of the sixties. She had so much love for so many you would call Sir but is better know for staring in the forerunners to the current slasher films.

She was married to very famous dwarf named Arthur and she stayed loyal to him even after they broke. English girls are like that.

Whose that girl?