Here we are, but instead of a Papaya Dog sign, there's burger signs everywhere. At least it's still here, in what appears to be an unchanged form. Let's take a closer look.
Inside it looks the same. Let's slowly move in closer.
Here's a familiar face, when asked if this was still a Papaya Dog, despite all the nasty burger signage, he just threw his hands up in the air. At least the familiar beer taps are still here.
There's the familiar Papaya dogs sizzling away.
Fuck it, there's a Papaya Dog on his shirt, I say it's still a Papaya Dog and my original Fortress of Solitude lives on!
Aaahh, home sweet home.
Gumby's all settled in, but there's a shitload of noise coming from the back.
It's filled with drunken idiots whom I assume are here for New Years Eve at Times Square. They're louder thand fuck and really obnoxious.
Fuck, this is a Fortress of Solitude people! I'm out of here! I can't wait till January 2nd!
At least on my way out I saw that the original Papaya sign is still hanging on, just like the Vanilla Fudge. I shall return.
It’s been quite a week at Zuccotti Park and for the Occupy Wall Street movement. Tuesday Mayor Bloomberg ordered the park to be emptied out by cops and hundreds of people got arrested and beaten up in the process, including journalists and photographers with press credentials trying to cover what was going on. Police helicopters prevented media helicopters from filming police removing, arresting and beating people. I don’t know about you, but it makes me a little nervous when reporters start getting arrested for doing their jobs. Can you say, “Police State?” Mayor Bloomberg said at a press conference that journalists were barred from covering the police raid on the park, "to protect members of the press." Huh? Protect them from what? Doing their jobs? There was a lot of protests on Thursday and a march across the Brooklyn Bridge. Goggla has some great photos from Thursday at her blog: The Gog Log.
The park has reopened, but you can’t bring in sleeping bags or tents and I think you have to go through a security check. I thought it would be interesting to go down and take some photos tonight.
Here we are, a block away from Zuccotti Park.
Wow, it looks like a different place and it looks like it's closed.
There's barricades all around the perimeter of the park.
I found an entrance into the park, but so far all I see are security guards inside.
It's kind of spooky in here.
I think this is where the kitchen area was. It's kind of hard to tell.
There appears to be people down at the far end of the park, let's go check it out.
There's about fifty people gathered here at the far end of the park.
The kitchen has been reduced to one small table with cartons of juice and some bags of chips.
People are taking turns reading poetry and ideas.
The ironic backdrop to this is the Bank of America building looming behind them.
The People's Library has been started again after Bloomberg and his goons reportedly destroyed over 5,000 books from the library that had been here at the park. Even if they didn't want to give the books back, couldn't they have donated them to homeless shelters or libraries? When you start destroying books and jailing journalists with press credentials, it makes you wonder what kind of direction we're headed in.
There's not a lot of signage down here tonight, but Fabio had one he was happy to pose with. He wants to bring the idea of privilege into the protest and he agreed to bring one more thing into it as well...
Gumby! Whatever your feelings are on Occupy Wall Street, you can't deny that it's brought up discussions and an awareness that wasn't here before. It's going to be interesting to see what happens in the upcoming weeks. Goodnight everybody and see you tomorrow after dark.
Gene sent in this photo last night with the following caption: "Mural of a condom machine above the toilet, in the men's room, at Mum's, in Federal Hill, Baltimore." Cool, thanks for the photo, Gene!
First off, go check Goggla’s photo blog, The Gog Log for more photos from the Chillmaster Dance Party Five. Just click here to check them out: Chillmaster Dance Party V.
Okay, it’s Monday and that’s the night I go out and six photos in a specific area of New York and marry them up with songs and lyrics that I think add to the photos for one reason or another. Tonight I’d thought I’d take a trip to Occupy Wall Street and see what’s happening. You may or may not agree with what’s going on down there, but so far I’ve yet to hear anyone who’s actually gone down there say anything negative about the protest. Contrary to some reports, it’s not just “dirty hippies” down there, it’s an interesting cross section of people of all ages and races coming together for something they believe in. One thing they have achieved is opening up a dialogue that wasn’t so prevalent before.Let’s go down and get a sixpack of photos.
Here we are at the Cortlandt Street stop. Time to start clicking.
-------------------------------- Bonus Photo From The Duncester! The Duncester sent in this wigged out photo of himself in a green wig of his own! It was taken in the early ‘90’s at a ski resort in Utah. Nice one, Duncester, thanks for sending it in!
Once again I was going to do something different tonight, but then I heard news that Mayor Bloomberg is ordering the protesters at Occupy Wall Street out of the park tomorrow so they can clean it. They are going to be allowed back in, but this time they are being told you can’t bring back tents, camping gear, sleeping bags, tarps or coolers. Another, “new” rule is that you can’t lay down in the park. The park is owned by Brookfield Properties and they claim they’ve received complaints that the park is now unsanitary.I was there a week ago and it seemed pretty clean and orderly to me, but let’s go check it out tonight and see what’s happening and just how unsanitary it really is.
It's a misty night with light rain falling down as I head downtown to check out Occupy Wall Street.
And here we are, there's a big crowd in the park tonight, as I expected.
The park is overflowing with people in support of Occupy Wall Street.
Some are peacefully sitting and discussing what to do if the city and cops try to empty the park tomorrow to clean it.
Others are taking action and cleaning the park, so they can stay.
Tarps are being folded and stacked for the night.
This is cleaning gear that was donated. The protesters have been scrubbing the park all day and into the night.
Here's someone mopping the grounds. Let's go say hi.
His name is Andrew and he said he wasn't going to leave tomorrow. He then returned to cleaning the park. I told him to be safe.
It doesn't look unsanitary to me.
Gumby joins the movement! An historic moment!
Here's Gene who was flying the flag and taking a break on the steps. He said cops would have to drag him out of the park, but he would be non-violent about it.
Dear Abbie. Steal this sign.
No one's dancing with the glow in the dark hula hoop tonight. Maybe tomorrow. One can only hope.
Update: I just woke up and they’ve postponed the cleaning of the park. Bloomberg and the powers that be have blinked in this staring contest. Chalk one up for the people.The 99%.To be continued.
I’m back in New York City! It was great seeing my family and friends in my hometown of Peoria, but it’s great to be back in New York. I met a woman at the Chicago O’Hare airport yesterday, in a bar, of all places! Her name’s Rachael and she told me about her favorite bar in New York called Luke’s Bar and Grill. She also told me her ex-brother-in-law works there and said his name is Luigi. I’ve got tonight off work, but to pay for this I have to go in early tomorrow. Like, ten in the fucking morning! Which means I have to get up around eight in the fucking morning to put this post up. So I thought we’d go to Luke’s and get something to eat and some drinks to knock me out early. Okay, let’s start the post, which I’m titling: “Looking for Luigi!”
Aaahh, back into the New York City night. It's starting to get dark earlier, one of the things I like about the fall season.
And through the magic of the internet, here we are at 77th Street on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
78th and 3rd, just about a block away and that's good. I'm starvin' like Marvin over here.
And here we are, Luke's Bar & Grill. Looks nice, let's check it out.
There's a decent crowd in here, but there's some seats at the end of the bar. Let's grab a chair and sit down.
And here's friendly bartender Paulie serving up an ice-cold Corona.
The bar is all dark wood with lit up bottles in the back.
Here's the view from my perch at the bar.
Green checked table clothed tables and vintage photos line the wooden wall opposite the bar.
Here's Julia, the pretty and friendly hostess who greets you at the door.
And now it's time for dinner. I thought I'd start off with a bowl of French onion soup. Very cheesy and delicious!
And I also got an order of chicken wings which soon became...
A plate of bones. Burp. Hey...where's Luigi?
He's right here. It turns out that Luigi is the owner and operator of Luke's. I told him to wave to Rachael and he does so, if you're out there, Rachael, this wave's for you! Luigi said to say, "hi."
And to pay him back for apartment sitting for me, I took Gumby out on the town as well. Goodnight everybody and see you tomorrow after dark.
Luke's Bar & Grill 1394 Third Ave. (Between 79th and 80th St.) 212-249-7070
---------------------------------------- Bonus Video Linkage From Crazy Eddie! Crazy Eddie wrote and said he enjoyed the family pictures I posted from Peoria and suggested this link as a tribute. Thanks, Crazy Eddie! Tribute link from Crazy Eddie!
I’m taking tonight off from work, because tomorrow I’m flying back to Peoria to see my family and go to a wedding. I have a car service coming at 6:30 AM, which means I have to get up at 5:30 AM which means I have to start drinking right now to pass out get to bed early. So I thought I’d just take a few random shots around the apartment and then start boozing it up heavily getting ready to go to sleep.
Here's Gumby in his chair. He's going to stay back here in NY and watch my apartment. I hope he doesn't have any wild parties while I'm away.
Gumby in a cup...
Gumby in two cups and Pokey!
Presenting the entire Gumby family! They're bendable and poseable. And they are bad-ass motherfuckers!
And here's Gumby looking down at the two flashlights that Britta and Tom brought me when they were here a little bit ago. I forgot to thank them in that post, so I'm doing it now. Thanks, Britta and Tom! I'll be thinking of you during the next power outtage!
Here's a vintage cover of Creem magazine with Joan Jett on it. I think I've posted it before, but it's worth a second viewing. It's Joan Jett after all!
And while we're looking at cool bands in my apartment, here's the brand new CD by The Handcuffs, "Waiting For The Robot." It's their best collection of tunes yet and you have to own it, that's all there is to it! It's available at iTunes and CD Baby. Check it out or I'll come to your house and drink all of your beer and have sex with some of your food.
I couldn't get a good shot of the cover, so I scanned it in. Very cool! Nice legs...and your's aren't too shabby either, Chloe! Har dee har har! Goodnight everybody and see you tomorrow after dark.
Okay, I’ve been a little behind on my blogging here, but there’s been good reason. Work has been absolutely nuts, I had to work late Tuesday and then double back and be in by ten in the morning Wednesday and the whole thing started snowballing Monday night. Monday night was Labor Day and I had the night off from work. For that night’s post, I was going to walk to 14th Street and see if I could get six people to pose for a photo and do my “Six Pack” feature. But as I was getting ready to go, what sounded like a bomb went off and it shook the building I live in. It scared the living shit out of me and about three minutes later I heard another blast go off. Then within a couple of minutes I heard sirens wailing outside. I didn’t really want to go out, I was scared of what was waiting, but I walked down the stairs and looked out my front door. When I looked outside I felt sick. Firetrucks lined the streets, there was smoke in the air and throngs of people were spilling out on to the sidewalk. I could see flames a few feet away in the street. All I could think was that this was September 11th part two. I asked a couple people what was going on and no one knew. Instinctively I grabbed my camera and started taking pictures. I remember thinking, “If a smart bomb went off on my block, this will be one hell of a blog. I hope I live to see all the comments!”
And so, the rest of the evening is documented in the pictures below. To quote Alice Cooper, “Welcome to my nightmare!”
This was the view from my stoop. A little unsettling to look out and see this unfolding right in front of my building.
By now a lot of people are out here and no one is sure of what's going on. I can see a fire a little ways down and every now and again you hear a blast go off.
I just heard someone say a transformer blew up and it was under a car, hence the loud explosion noises.
It's smoky out here and a little nerve-rattling. A little too close to September 11th for this to be going on.
Water from this hydrant is spilling out into the street.
I went up to the firemen and asked if it was safe to be here. The one on the left said it was, but added, "If I were you, I'd get away from this for awhile." I thought that was a good suggestion.
And so off I went from my smoky block...
Out into the night.
And I ended up in front of one of the bars I hit last year on my bar crawl, Bunga's Den.
And there's a familiar face behind the bar, friendly bartender, Mark. Mark was a semi-regular on the bar crawl last year, not only was he on the Bunga's Den post, he was also featured here and here. Mark works every Monday in here, if you're in the neighborhood, stop by and have a drink and say hi.
The bar hasn't changed much from last year.
There's the lit up bottles behind the bar.
Alana was seated next to me and is a flight attendant who lives in New Mexico and is in town seeing friends. We had a nice chat with topics ranging from porn stars on planes, to Joey Buttafuoco to Mexican food.
After a few beers I walked back to my block to see what was happening.
Oh shit, it looks like it's been roped off.
A cop just told me I can't come back on the block, even though I live there. He said it would be opened up again in about an hour, Con Ed is working on the scene.
The cops are turning a blind eye on people drinking beer on the sidewalk until they can go home. I thought about joining them, but didn't really feel like standing and it still stunk of smoke there.
So it's back to the bar I go...
And Mark has a cold beer waiting for me. What a guy!
Okay, now it's closing in on midnight and the block is open. There's trucks and crews working and I see lights, so maybe we didn't lose any power. That would be great!
Fuck, the building is black. No power. I went in and it's hot and smells like smoke.
Oh well, at least I'm not the schmuck who parked over the transformer that blew up. I think this baby's totaled.
And of course people are taking pictures of it. It was probably all over facebook minutes later.
Three words came to mind while standing in my dark, unpowered hot apartment. Washington Square Hotel! It's Biff's hotel of choice when she comes to town, so I know it's nice...where the fuck has Biff been lately anyway? Biff? Biff...Bueller...Bueller...Bueller...
I'm really tired by now and just want to crash.
And here we are, room 907. The end of the night is finally near.
Here we are, but instead of a Papaya Dog sign, there's burger signs everywhere. At least it's still here, in what appears to be an unchanged form. Let's take a closer look.
Inside it looks the same. Let's slowly move in closer.
Here's a familiar face, when asked if this was still a Papaya Dog, despite all the nasty burger signage, he just threw his hands up in the air. At least the familiar beer taps are still here.
There's the familiar Papaya dogs sizzling away.
Fuck it, there's a Papaya Dog on his shirt, I say it's still a Papaya Dog and my original Fortress of Solitude lives on!
Aaahh, home sweet home.
Gumby's all settled in, but there's a shitload of noise coming from the back.
It's filled with drunken idiots whom I assume are here for New Years Eve at Times Square. They're louder thand fuck and really obnoxious.
Fuck, this is a Fortress of Solitude people! I'm out of here! I can't wait till January 2nd!
At least on my way out I saw that the original Papaya sign is still hanging on, just like the Vanilla Fudge. I shall return.
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