I went to the bodega across the street this morning, and the woman in front of me in line spent about 15 minutes trying to convince the man behind the counter to give her a book of 10-cent matched for free. "There's money moving up here," she said at one point, "And being nice to your customers is what will keep them coming back." She then went on about her friend from Armenia or Turkey or wherever that would always borrow her money but then he moved away after Sept. 11.
As soon as she left the man told me she does this every day. That for awhile he gave them to her for free but then he started charging. I felt like I was back in the Village for a minute -- Brewster Village, not the East Village.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Super Bowl-goers: Drive and drink and you'll wear pink
I can't wait to see what goes down come the Super Bowl afterparties.
Maricopa County Sheriff and feckless media whore Joe Arpaio is spouting off about how he won't hesitate to lock up any misbehaving celebrities in his tent city freak show. Arpaio, for the unfamiliar, has a rather unconventional imprisonment philosophy:
Now as much as I would love to see Paris Hilton eat bologna sandwiches and spend a few months sleeping outside in a tent in the desert (talk about the simple life, eh?), there's a thin line between creative and cruel and unusual. And regardless of where nasty outbreaks of MRSA and otherwise unsanitary conditions and shitty health care fall on that line, it's just plain expensive, costing more than $40 million in prison-condition lawsuits (that's more than 2,000 cases in federal court alone).
Oh, and then there's the whole matter of Arpaio's trying to take down the weekly Phoenix New Times by, among other things, having the editors arrested after printing Arpaio's address in a story about his shady real estate deals. Apparently he doesn't understand that once you make yourself a media sideshow you can't turn the press on and off at will.
But Giants in pink underwear ... cruel and unusual or not, it's kind of a consoling thought for a Packer fan right now.
Maricopa County Sheriff and feckless media whore Joe Arpaio is spouting off about how he won't hesitate to lock up any misbehaving celebrities in his tent city freak show. Arpaio, for the unfamiliar, has a rather unconventional imprisonment philosophy:
Arpaio has been sheriff here since 1992 and runs his jail like no one else, his most famous policies generating worldwide attention. They include:
# Pink underwear: When he noticed that inmates kept stealing jail-issued underwear, he dyed them all pink in an effort to humiliate male prisoners and cut down on thefts. It worked and he even sells a line of pink underwear to raise money for the sheriff's office.
# Bologna sandwich: Rather than serve inmates three square meals a day, Arpaio decided to save money and return to the days when the term "prison food" meant something.
"We don't give them breakfast anymore or lunch, we give them brunch," he said. "They get a bologna sandwich."
Inmates have said it is beyond bad. Arpaio noted that no one has starved to death.
# Tent city: Arpaio often says he wants the most populated jail in America. He came up with a solution to overcrowding when he got a hold of some old military tents and had them erected in the parking lot outside one of the county jails.
Thousands of inmates don't stay in traditional cells. Instead, they sleep on cots under the tents (the complex is surrounded by fences) whether the temperature drops near freezing or, as is often the case in the desert, climbs into triple digits.
"We have almost 2,000 people in hot, Korean War tents."
It's enough to make a felon dream of the hole, even before Arpaio pipes in classical or patriotic music. He even put up a giant pink "Vacancy" sign outside Tent City, which now gives tours to curiosity seekers from around the globe.
"I've got room," he noted of the players and party goers. "I'll put them in my celebrity tent."
How is that not a reality show?
# Chain gang: In 1995, Arpaio brought back the male chain gang for prisoners and a year later created what he calls, "the only female chain gang in the history of the United States, if not the world."
Wednesday morning, both "Sheriff's DUI Chain Gangs" were picking road side garbage along Glendale Ave. in the shadow of University of Phoenix Stadium, which will host Super Bowl XLII. They were wearing old school black and white striped prison garb and, presumably, pink underwear.
Beside the men's chain gang was a sign reading: "Bowl Fans: Drive and Drink and You'll wear Pink." By the women's gang: "Ladies: Horizontal stripes will make you look fat! So do not drink and drive."
"We want to make the influx of people know that if you come into this county and get arrested and convicted of driving under the influence you are going to the tents and out on the chain gang."
Now as much as I would love to see Paris Hilton eat bologna sandwiches and spend a few months sleeping outside in a tent in the desert (talk about the simple life, eh?), there's a thin line between creative and cruel and unusual. And regardless of where nasty outbreaks of MRSA and otherwise unsanitary conditions and shitty health care fall on that line, it's just plain expensive, costing more than $40 million in prison-condition lawsuits (that's more than 2,000 cases in federal court alone).
Oh, and then there's the whole matter of Arpaio's trying to take down the weekly Phoenix New Times by, among other things, having the editors arrested after printing Arpaio's address in a story about his shady real estate deals. Apparently he doesn't understand that once you make yourself a media sideshow you can't turn the press on and off at will.
But Giants in pink underwear ... cruel and unusual or not, it's kind of a consoling thought for a Packer fan right now.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
in which a lily-white harlem resident waxes philosophical on diversity and gentrification
At UW-Eau Claire, there is a lot of verbal wankery on the subject of diversity — why there isn't any, how they can get more of it, how they can change around their educational requirements to get students to think about it. But even so, the student body is still 93 percent white.
Well, now I live in central Harlem, in a neighborhood that 85 percent black, 14 percent Latino and 1 percent white. I *am* the diversity. It's a wee bit of culture shock.
When I came here, one of the movers asked me why I had decided to move to *this* part of town. (Well, because it's probably the only place in the city I can afford a nice 1-bedroom apartment in a well-maintained building and still make it to work in about 30 minutes door-to-door).
"Well ... usually certain groups of people live in certain areas of the city," the mover said.
Not being part of said "certain group" of people is definitely a new experience for me. Say you are a white person, living in a typical midsize, mostly white Midwestern town. You probably deny this to yourself, but when you walk down the street and you pass someone from a minority group, your eyes glance that way for a fraction of a second and a voice in the back of your head says, 'look, a black/Latino/Native American/whatever person.' Now imagine living on a major city street, going to the store, walking to the train, whatever, and getting that not-really-looking look from practically everybody that you pass. It's an adjustment if you've never been a minority. Actually, it's a lot like being in Spain was — minus the catcalls every five seconds.
It's not so much a question of safety, other than the obvious reservations I have about walking at late hours of the night through the neighborhood where "American Gangster" was filmed. I've been assured that all things considered it's a safe enough neighborhood. According to police precinct reports, it's more on par with the bulk of downtown Manhattan than with the Bronx, which is just across the Harlem River. And the super says in the eight years he's been in my building there's never been a break-in.
But there is a certain amount of racial tension involved, and that is compounded by the fact that people who are priced out of richer neighborhoods tend to equate "ungentrified" with "undiscovered," see the neighborhood as dangerous and rundown and in need of being fixed, and slowly push out the locals as if they were just in the way. (See the Village Voice piece The Second Battle for Bushwick if you really want to understand how this plays out.) Adding to that, in Harlem at least, Columbia University is buying up a bunch of real estate. From what I've gathered in my short time here thus far, the gentrification battlefront has effectively been pushed up from 96th street to 125th street.
Truly it's a double-edged sword — popularity of a neighborhood equals investment equals better facilities and often lower crime rates and the like. I'm not in the best situation to opine on gentrification because a. I haven't lived here before it took off and b. as a tenant of a management company that's buying up huge chunks of Harlem and upper Manhattan I'm part of the problem. But isn't there a way to improve a neighborhood and accommodate new residents without pushing the old ones out?
It's capitalism run amok, really. I don't think you can fight basic supply and demand without a. more people owning instead of renting, therefore not having to pay someone else skyrocketing amounts of money just to stay in their apartment and b. a serious crackdown on the kinds of unethical property management practices in the aforementioned Village Voice story, and/or c. regulations on landlords and businesses that many people would consider profoundly un-American. In that way I can see Manhattan as a microcosm of how the American free-market system will eventually cannibalize itself if left unchecked.
What boggles my mind about European urban development is that in so many places it manages to balance the past and the present — you can go to school in the very same building in which Inquisition prisoners were held 500 years ago, and big wealthy business chains can't swallow up the smaller ones just because they can afford to break the rules that confine their competitors.* Which requires not only some intervention from -- gasp -- democratic socialism, but the squelching of the colonize and conquer, destroy and rebuild, darwinist mindset that has fueled American history since the first white dudes set foot on this continent. Europe has a few centuries on us in the western-civilization business, and we could take a few hints from them on pacing ourselves.
*In Spain, for example, most businesses aren't allowed to be open on Sundays, and I believe there's some kind of regulation on closing for siesta. Though that made life a huge pain in the ass at times while I was in Valladolid, I think it was a small price to pay for keeping the city as close-knit as it was ... with the side effect of legislating a more relaxed way of life.
Well, now I live in central Harlem, in a neighborhood that 85 percent black, 14 percent Latino and 1 percent white. I *am* the diversity. It's a wee bit of culture shock.
When I came here, one of the movers asked me why I had decided to move to *this* part of town. (Well, because it's probably the only place in the city I can afford a nice 1-bedroom apartment in a well-maintained building and still make it to work in about 30 minutes door-to-door).
"Well ... usually certain groups of people live in certain areas of the city," the mover said.
Not being part of said "certain group" of people is definitely a new experience for me. Say you are a white person, living in a typical midsize, mostly white Midwestern town. You probably deny this to yourself, but when you walk down the street and you pass someone from a minority group, your eyes glance that way for a fraction of a second and a voice in the back of your head says, 'look, a black/Latino/Native American/whatever person.' Now imagine living on a major city street, going to the store, walking to the train, whatever, and getting that not-really-looking look from practically everybody that you pass. It's an adjustment if you've never been a minority. Actually, it's a lot like being in Spain was — minus the catcalls every five seconds.
It's not so much a question of safety, other than the obvious reservations I have about walking at late hours of the night through the neighborhood where "American Gangster" was filmed. I've been assured that all things considered it's a safe enough neighborhood. According to police precinct reports, it's more on par with the bulk of downtown Manhattan than with the Bronx, which is just across the Harlem River. And the super says in the eight years he's been in my building there's never been a break-in.
But there is a certain amount of racial tension involved, and that is compounded by the fact that people who are priced out of richer neighborhoods tend to equate "ungentrified" with "undiscovered," see the neighborhood as dangerous and rundown and in need of being fixed, and slowly push out the locals as if they were just in the way. (See the Village Voice piece The Second Battle for Bushwick if you really want to understand how this plays out.) Adding to that, in Harlem at least, Columbia University is buying up a bunch of real estate. From what I've gathered in my short time here thus far, the gentrification battlefront has effectively been pushed up from 96th street to 125th street.
Truly it's a double-edged sword — popularity of a neighborhood equals investment equals better facilities and often lower crime rates and the like. I'm not in the best situation to opine on gentrification because a. I haven't lived here before it took off and b. as a tenant of a management company that's buying up huge chunks of Harlem and upper Manhattan I'm part of the problem. But isn't there a way to improve a neighborhood and accommodate new residents without pushing the old ones out?
It's capitalism run amok, really. I don't think you can fight basic supply and demand without a. more people owning instead of renting, therefore not having to pay someone else skyrocketing amounts of money just to stay in their apartment and b. a serious crackdown on the kinds of unethical property management practices in the aforementioned Village Voice story, and/or c. regulations on landlords and businesses that many people would consider profoundly un-American. In that way I can see Manhattan as a microcosm of how the American free-market system will eventually cannibalize itself if left unchecked.
What boggles my mind about European urban development is that in so many places it manages to balance the past and the present — you can go to school in the very same building in which Inquisition prisoners were held 500 years ago, and big wealthy business chains can't swallow up the smaller ones just because they can afford to break the rules that confine their competitors.* Which requires not only some intervention from -- gasp -- democratic socialism, but the squelching of the colonize and conquer, destroy and rebuild, darwinist mindset that has fueled American history since the first white dudes set foot on this continent. Europe has a few centuries on us in the western-civilization business, and we could take a few hints from them on pacing ourselves.
*In Spain, for example, most businesses aren't allowed to be open on Sundays, and I believe there's some kind of regulation on closing for siesta. Though that made life a huge pain in the ass at times while I was in Valladolid, I think it was a small price to pay for keeping the city as close-knit as it was ... with the side effect of legislating a more relaxed way of life.
Your WTF for the day
There are no words for this:
Totally made up? That would be my guess, but Ellen DeGeneres proved me wrong.
Totally made up? That would be my guess, but Ellen DeGeneres proved me wrong.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
I'm back ...
Welcome to the new and improved Hoty Takes Manhattan. I'm here for the long haul, and so is this blog — at least when I feel like updating it.
As a warning, this blog will not only be all things New York but my general-purpose ranting blog as well. So prepare yourself.
As a warning, this blog will not only be all things New York but my general-purpose ranting blog as well. So prepare yourself.
Friday, July 27, 2007
I'm Blue (aba-dee aba-di)
So today I was going to work on the subway and I saw a girl painted head to toe in blue body paint. I mean, literally, head to toe. She was a walking mass of blue swirliness and eyes (wouldn't be my first choice), wearing nothing but a thong (she even had a face painted on one of her butt-cheeks). No bra or anything. Craziest thing I've seen in the city so far.
Speking of no bras ... yesterday I was editing this story about the workplace generation gap. Now for any of you non "gen Y"-ers/personnel management types, have you ever had a 20-something employee show up at a business meeting in a crop-top? Or send you a text message asking if bras were REALLY part of the dress code? Sure there's a generation gap (at The Times, for example, it tends to manifest itself in discussuions about whether the rapper Paul Wall should be referred to on second reference as Mr. Wall, or whether The Simpsons is instrumental in understanding America). But let's be serious. Or maybe it's some rich-kid thing that I'm just not aware of.
Speking of no bras ... yesterday I was editing this story about the workplace generation gap. Now for any of you non "gen Y"-ers/personnel management types, have you ever had a 20-something employee show up at a business meeting in a crop-top? Or send you a text message asking if bras were REALLY part of the dress code? Sure there's a generation gap (at The Times, for example, it tends to manifest itself in discussuions about whether the rapper Paul Wall should be referred to on second reference as Mr. Wall, or whether The Simpsons is instrumental in understanding America). But let's be serious. Or maybe it's some rich-kid thing that I'm just not aware of.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
I heart NY ... and bulleted lists
So now that people are actually reading this, I guess I have to write something.
The walking, eating, shopping and working continues. I can't believe it's almost over; less than two weeks left. I even have a hair appointment scheduled at home, which is a (slightly consoling) reminder that real life is looming.
That being said, it may still be a little premature, but, in the tradition of my Spain blog, here is what I miss about home (in no particular order):
1. My roomies, even though they were just here
2. Jenny and Anna, who I hadn't seen for way too long before I left in the first place
3. The family, and the pets
4. Wearing sweatpants in public
5. Running across the street without hearing, HOOONNNNNKKKK!
6. Nature, in any form
7. Cheese curds and Spotted Cow
8. The Spectator, strangely enough
9. TV (and Internet that's not in a dorm lobby)
10. My car!
And here is what I am going to miss about life in the city:
1. Having practically everything I need within walking distance
2. Working at The Times!
3. The other interns, who will soon be scattered all over the country again
4. The sheer variety of random happenings/things that can be found just by walking around for awhile (for example, street fairs and coconut ice cream served in half of a real coconut shell)
5. Street performers, from the truly talented (the a capella group that makes its way through the subways) to the utterly bizarre (the man in Port Authority who plays the keyboard accompanied by a band of little anamatronic people)
6. Random moments of tranquility, for example in the busiest parts of the city at about 6 a.m. on sunday or the view across the hudson river from Lower Manhattan
7. The village/union square, which remind me of the best parts of spain
8. Strand Bookstore
9. Cafe con leche (and iced coffee at Dunkin' Donuts, for that matter)
10. The Village Voice (which reminds me, it comes out today)
11. H&M!
I have some more pictures upstairs; I'll get to those later. But it's almost time for work.
The walking, eating, shopping and working continues. I can't believe it's almost over; less than two weeks left. I even have a hair appointment scheduled at home, which is a (slightly consoling) reminder that real life is looming.
That being said, it may still be a little premature, but, in the tradition of my Spain blog, here is what I miss about home (in no particular order):
1. My roomies, even though they were just here
2. Jenny and Anna, who I hadn't seen for way too long before I left in the first place
3. The family, and the pets
4. Wearing sweatpants in public
5. Running across the street without hearing, HOOONNNNNKKKK!
6. Nature, in any form
7. Cheese curds and Spotted Cow
8. The Spectator, strangely enough
9. TV (and Internet that's not in a dorm lobby)
10. My car!
And here is what I am going to miss about life in the city:
1. Having practically everything I need within walking distance
2. Working at The Times!
3. The other interns, who will soon be scattered all over the country again
4. The sheer variety of random happenings/things that can be found just by walking around for awhile (for example, street fairs and coconut ice cream served in half of a real coconut shell)
5. Street performers, from the truly talented (the a capella group that makes its way through the subways) to the utterly bizarre (the man in Port Authority who plays the keyboard accompanied by a band of little anamatronic people)
6. Random moments of tranquility, for example in the busiest parts of the city at about 6 a.m. on sunday or the view across the hudson river from Lower Manhattan
7. The village/union square, which remind me of the best parts of spain
8. Strand Bookstore
9. Cafe con leche (and iced coffee at Dunkin' Donuts, for that matter)
10. The Village Voice (which reminds me, it comes out today)
11. H&M!
I have some more pictures upstairs; I'll get to those later. But it's almost time for work.
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