THE COMEBACK JACKASSES

 From London to New York, two former office holders have seen their reputations become further tarnished due to their own behavior, having gone from dazzlingly popular to voted "Least Likely to Make a Successful Comeback." 

And they dressed so darned American!

For our British brethren, it's Harry, the man who needs no second name. After Harry backtracked on his vow never to return to the homeland and his old job, he and the little lady are said to be looking for a nine-bedroom lean-to for themselves and their two are-they-or-aren't-they royal offspring in the Cotswold's. 

And that's where they're going to be spending their "working days". Pater, a/k/a King Charles, put the word out through the royal publicist just where the couple stand:

“This position, distinct from the state and royal duties undertaken by the working royal family, and with the personal latitude it brings the couple in respect of financial independence and protection of their privacy as they would wish, will continue to be fully respected. Their styles as His and Her Royal Highness remain in abeyance and are not used. [Their charitable work] is a personal matter for them both and undertaken in their private capacity. In short, their position is akin to private citizens with commercial and charitable interests.”

Freunde to the end.

Their styles as His and Her Royal Highness remain in abeyance. Ooh-wee! That there statement is fancy English talk for Don't call us, we won't call you. 

It seems Harry and Meghan are the Gen X Edward and Wallis, doomed to travel the globe, without a real home or titles (make that "styles"), making the occasional TV appearance with easily impressed talk show hosts. All they have to do to complete the picture is chilling with a fascist dictator. Hey, I understand there's some action going on in Germany -- just like in Edward's day!

Rudy hurt himself bending down to give
Donald Trump a happy ending one too many times.

We New Yorkers have our own clown mucking things up. In preparation for the 25th
anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, Rudy Giulani took time off his busy schedule of sweating hair dye to share his thoughts regarding Mayor Zohran Mamdani and Muslims in general:

“Having lost friends [at the World Trade Center] and being very close to many of the families, it offends me that he’s coming [to the memorial service].” He added for good measure, that “[Muslims] have every desire to take us over. This is not, ‘they want to be just another religion.’ They want to dominate us. […] Mamdani is a clear — a clear — supporter of that. All of the Muslims he supports are murderers.” 

That's pretty rich, considering Giuliani's administration deliberately lied about the air quality downtown in the months after 9/11. And it took our first Muslim mayor to make the information public following a quarter century of Democrat and Republican administrations quashing it -- as you know a Mayor Cuomo would have also done. (That was sarcasm, in case it wasn't clear.)

A courtroom sketch artist
captures the inner fiend.

America's Mayor-turned-America's Dracula seems to think that his kind of talk is "tough" when in truth most New Yorkers find it as hideous as his dental implants. Not content sounding crazy, he's gone past the point of being taken seriously into something sadder: pathetic. 

Meanwhile, Harry isn't at that point -- yet. It sure doesn't help that he and Meghan claim to be "surprised" at daddy-o's frosty press release when being on the outside looking in seemed to their dream.

 All they have to do is keep their heads down, raise a few shillings for whatever charity will have them, and earn an honest living -- admittedly difficult for anyone in that family -- and many Brits might forgive them. Unless they're named William and Catherine. 

                                                       **************

A GALA DAY IS TOO MUCH

What has the Met done to
deserve this?

If you're unfamiliar with the Met Gala, consider yourself lucky. Ostensibly a classy, high society fundraising event for New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art's costume division, it has devolved over the years into a fashion freak show for celebrities, B-listers with big followings, and the incurable viruses known as Kardashians. 

For this, we have Anna Wintour to "thank". Wintour, whose windshield-sized sunglasses and official job title as Vogue magazine's "Global Chief Content Creator", offer a hint at how insecure the poor woman is. (Watch the documentary The September Issue to see how her medical and professorial siblings look down upon her. It almost makes one feel sorry for the fashionista.)

The Gala occurs on the first Monday of May, although next year's event has already made headlines for the wrong reasons, seeing that it was going to honor fashion designer John Galliano. I'm not sure anyone outside his industry had heard of him until 2010. That was when, within a day or two, he allegedly insulted a Jewish museum curator and an Asian man, and definitely delivered his infamous "I love Hitler" routine. Definitely, because it was caught on video. And saying it in Paris, the city of Nazi collaborators? The chef's kiss.

Forget about loving Hitler; this guy
was to be honored for his fashion
sense?

In short order, Johnny-boy -- whose own fashion style seems to be "expensive Halloween costumes" -- lost his job at Dior and was put on trial for antisemitic abuse. The usual excuses for his behavior -- "work-related stress" and "multiple addictions" -- were trotted out like a past-its-prime racehorse. To my eyes and ears, that video shows a guy with zero stress, even if it is the wine slurring.

After a two year "self-loathing" penance, Galliano got a gig at Oscar de la Renta, thanks to the intervention of -- guess who! -- Anna Wintour. In the intervening years, he returned to the good graces of the fashion world because, y'know, he draws nice clothes and dresses like a drunken pirate. 

So Wintour decided that enough time had passed to honor fashion's most outspoken asshole -- which is no mean feat -- especially since he had gotten the Anti-Defamation League's "resolve and not repeat the sin" blessing in 2013. In announcing the Gala's honor of Galliano, Wintour said: 

“There is no one more deserving of an exhibition of this scale than John Galliano. [...] He’s a great designer and his career isn’t defined by a moment—something that he will live with for the rest of his life. The exhibition won’t shy away from any of the darkness in John’s past. It’s part of what has shaped him. The show will take in the full arc of his career and grapple with all of it.”

Kanye on the runway.

Saying "I love Hitler" and telling Jewish people they would have been gassed is part of what shaped him? Well goddamn, Anna, that's right up there with Kanye West's c.v.

But wait, there's more! Wintour forgot that her Galliano wingding was going to happen on Holocaust Remembrance Day. Since this is the fashion world, it's unclear whether such a gaffe is ironic or appropriate.

"Hello, Page Six? You'll never guess what
that old bat is up to now!"

By now, you're probably wondering why nobody at Wintour's office didn't mention that this event might not be a good look for her, Vogue, or the Met museum. If you've seen The Devil Wears Prada 1 or 2, you already know the answer: her underlings were too afraid. So they did the next best thing by making off-the-record-cover-their-asses phone calls to the New York Post. 

Deciding that this wasn't the kind of comeback he was hoping for, Galliano Galliano's lawyer put out a statement announcing he was bowing out so as to not "place the Met in a difficult position" -- showbiz for Don't fire me, I'll quit, it's a better look for me. 

For the love of God, somebody please throw a pie
at their faces.

And as for Anna? The woman who said no designer was no more deserving of
the honor? Her official statement on the Met's site says, "John's decision that the exhibition devoted to his work should not take place at this time is very courageous and a measure of the man he is. I believe this is the right decision, and both he and the Museum have my full support" -- showbiz for Let him take the fall for my stupid decisions, it's a better look for me. 

So who's the second-most deserving designer Wintour could honor? Hey, Kanye West's side-hustle is fashion design, maybe he's available. 

                                                        ###############

TODAY IN NEW YORK

 So what's going on in the city I've called home for 45 years? Let's pull back the curtain and take a look.

Cyclospora, otherwise known as the "explosive diarrhea" bug. We're back to the early days of covid, washing our foodstuffs with everything other than Clorox before eating them. 

And which ones are possibly infected? Fresh fruit. Fresh vegetables. Meat. Dairy. Coffee. Alcohol. Well, thank God I don't drink alcohol anymore! 

As of this morning, five more ZIP codes, all in Central Harlem, are infected, bringing the total to eight neighborhoods. I've lost track of the number of cases, hospitalizations, and deaths, but trust me: it's a lot. 

Seventy-six infected cooling towers have been cited, including the rich kids' private girls school on our block, along with my wife's gym and the CVS where she recently received her pneumonia shot. There's no escaping this damn thing!

As in 2023, we say Thanks a heap, Canada! On the upside, with the air quality index at only half of the previous 415 -- you remember, the day New York had the worst air quality in the world -- the sky won't turn quite as orange or be quite as death-inducing.

On the other hand, the city has a vague aroma of a campfire gone out of control, the sky is a hazy grey, and everyone is advised to stay home, hide under the couch and wear a covid mask. Oh, and don't breathe until the city gives the all-clear. (New York's air quality hasn't been all clear in about 200 years, but we'll let that pass.)

 

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. It's hot as hell.

And yet with all this plague-like madness going on, I went out early this morning to get some errands out of the way. 

What did I see? Well, aside from the Canadian smoke, there were people. Jogging, walking their dogs, going to work, picking up garbage. Even setting up outdoor seating at restaurants. 

Why? We are fucking New Yorkers. There are things to do, people to serve, a city to run. We shut down for 24 hours after 9/11, then got back to work, school, and took our kids to the playground and parks. You think we're going to let legionella, explosive diarrhea, a little smoke and heat stop us? Hell, no! Now let me seal the windows, get out the toilet paper, crank up the A.C., and wash the veggies for 20 minutes. I've got a life to live! 

HOT TOWN, SUMMER IN (AND OUT OF) THE CITY

 Summer started with a bang -- literally.  Around 9:30 p.m. of our final night of a quick getaway upstate, the wind picked up from out of nowhere. Within five minutes, the show got started real good, with rain, thunder, and lightning out of an old monster movie. By 9:45, the power went out.

For about an hour, there was never a second that the sky wasn't blue with lightning, the air constantly exploding with thunder, the wind wasn't threatening to blow the trees down, and the rain didn't drop from the sky with a fury not seen since Noah went for a sail with his animal friends. You've never seen a thunderstorm like the ones they get in upstate New York.

When morning came, the sky was blue, the air was calm, and the power still off -- as was the water. That's the charm of country life. You not only loose electricity, but you have to pour pails of hot tub water into toilets to flush the damn things.

A stroll down the road showed the damage. Fallen trees, power lines laying on the ground like dead snakes, charred wood where lightning had struck. A fellow coming from the opposite end had to drive his car under a fallen tree to get home. This is the 21st century?

It was our final day before returning
home, and a good thing, too, since the power didn't return to the town until the following afternoon. A tip to all towns and cities: do what Manhattan did in the late 19th century and move the powerlines underground. Your population will thank you the next time a storm hits.

We returned to the city during the final portion of the gruesome heatwave you might have heard about. But just to make sure our lives were that much more fascinating, a recent outbreak of Legionnaires Disease had settled in our ZIP code and the adjoining one. By Tuesday, it had spread to a third nearby neighborhood. 

For those not acquainted with the patriotic-sounding illness, let's study this handy guide:

We've got the old school water tank, so that puts us in the clear. As for potential victims, the most likely are those over 50, smokers, and/or with immunodepression illnesses. Since I fall into only the "over 50" category, I suppose I'm only 30% liable to drop dead if were to breathe in contaminated mist.  

The map to the left shows the possible causes of L.D. as of Tuesday. The numbers have likely grown since the addition of the 10075 ZIP code. I think our street has the blue pushpin of death, although our particular block is safe. Doubtlessly the more elite Upper East Siders chartered the first Gulfstream to the safest tropical isle they could find until this thing blows over. Although I don't want the mist to blow over my building, immunodepression or not.

If this wasn't enough to contend with, a four-block area of Midtown was closed
for a couple of days to a "buckling building" that was being converted from office space to apartments.

Well, what did they think would happen when they added 11 additional floors to the top of a 66-year-old building? That it would just stand there and take it? It's like people who are surprised every time their above-ground powerlines go kablooey during storms. or when there's an outbreak of Legionnaires Disease in buildings with cooling towers. I can't wait to see what the next 10 weeks of summer bring. Maybe people being severely injured by setting off fireworks in their back yard. That's something nobody expects, either.

                 ############

THE GREAT ROCK & ROLL SWINDLE

Want to see eight acts? It'll set you back
$7.50 ($5.50 for the nosebleed seats).

 During the waning days of psychedelia, something called "The 1950's Rock and
Roll Revival" took hold. Acts that hadn't been on the charts in over a decade were suddenly touring America on the same bill.

Hippies wanting to relive their adolescent and teen years were now able to see their former favorites live, perhaps for the first time, providing relief from Vietnam, Richard Nixon, and The Lawrence Welk Show. 

Over 50 years later, the urge to go back to what are thought to be "a more innocent time" exists in later generations. And so, this coming September, Brooklyn welcomes the CBGB Festival. 

A black & white photo captures the ambience
better than color.

For those unfamiliar with the initials, CBGB was a small concert venue in Greenwich Village. Originally specializing in Country, Blue Grass, and Blues (hence, the name), by the mid to late 1970s, it had become the number one punk club in the city, legendary for its bathroom as much as the shows. 

l was there once circa 1982, dressed in my finest black clothing, to see Marshall Crenshaw. While I remember the show, I don't recall using the facilities, although that might be my brain blocking the memory. 

The name CBGB Festival is somewhat misleading. First, it's being held in Greenpoint, Brooklyn at Under the K Bridge Park. Second, the only acts who appeared at the original CBGB are Patti Smith, Bikini Kill, Agnostic Front, and Circle Jerks.

As for the Sex Pistols and Buzzcocks, what they have in common is that their current line-ups don't feature the original lead singers, making them something like the Beach Boys of punk. The other acts are comparatively new, such as Mannequin Pussy, Interpol, and Violet Grohl, the 20-year-old daughter of Foo Fighters frontman Dave Grohl. Nepo punk-wannabe baby! 

Do you think the original Sex Pistols
would have put up with "Punk Royalty"?

In other words, CBGB Festival is pretty much CBGB in logo only. Another difference is the price of admission. Tickets start at the "affordable" $99(!) for "Young Punks". The three other tiers top out up at $799 for what they refer to as the "Very Very Important" section for "Punk Royalty", which is rather oxymoronic if you ask me. Among the many goodies provided for the VVIP are "Flushable, air-conditioned restrooms", which the real CBGB patrons would have destroyed before the night was over. 

Music aside, what interests me the most is the inclusion of Morrissey. His British nationalist leanings have caught flack from the press both here and abroad (you can even find a list of "The Ten Greatest Songs Hating Morrissey"). The backstage interactions with the famously progressive Patti Smith should be interesting, if not outright hostile. 

Morrissey -- the inspiration for
Mannequin Pussy?

Another problem for some ticketholders is that Morrissey, a take-no-prisoners vegetarian, has long prohibited the serving of meat-based products at his concerts. Will he put the kibosh on kielbasa upon hitting the stage at CBGB Fest? If so, this would be the most genuinely punk move of the night. 

If you're wondering why CBGB Festival isn't happening at the club itself, the dump closed its greasy doors in 2006. Today, it's the home of the high-end clothier John Varvatos, who peddles something called the "Tom Petty Fringe Jacket" for $4,000. If you want to get an idea of the real CBGB, you'll have to visit the Punk Rock Museum in -- natcherly! -- Las Vegas. General admission will set you back $49.99. 

Coincidentally, I've got $49.99 that says two of the Very Very Important Punks in the $799 seats will be Jeff Bezos and the missus, torn jeans and all. And if Kash Patel shows up, the other VVIPs better be careful when he starts hitting the Budweiser. No telling what mischief he'll get up to. Suing the Atlantic for a quarter billion bucks -- so punk!

                                                             ************

THE YELLOW TAPE BLUES

Yorkville: Manhattan's own flyover country.

For an area I gladly consider the most boring part of Manhattan, my neighborhood of Yorkville has recently seen more action than Sarah Ferguson at a toe-sucking convention. Last weekend, part of it was blocked off for a total of 14 hours, thanks to right-wing idiots and would-be terrorists who don't even live here. 

Monday passed without incident, while Tuesday started out like a late spring morning. Temperatures promised to be hovering in the low 70s by lunchtime, perfect for a picnic my wife and I would share in Carl Schurz Park... until receiving a "Notify NYC" email reading "Due to police activity, expect traffic delays, road closures, mass transit disruptions, and a heavy presence of emergency personnel in the area of East End Avenue and East 88th Street in Manhattan." 

So that explained all those helicopters I'd been vaguely aware of hovering overhead for the previous half hour. Looks like the bomb squad's here again, honey!

Just another day in our bucolic neighborhood.

With trusty Android in hand, I walked east a half block, where I was greeted by yellow police tape shutting off East End Avenue from 84th Street to 88th. Cops, reporters and locals were milling about, all with expressions that read Here we go again. 

I asked one cop if he knew what was going on. He replied, "Yeah, but I can't tell you." He explained that he didn't want the nearby news camera to pick up any information with its boom microphone. This didn't prevent rumors flying around like unmanned drones -- one bomb found, three bombs found, even Donald Trump leaving office were all mentioned by people who in reality had no frigging idea what the facts were. My advice: listen to the cop who can't tell you anything.

You mean we're gonna have to walk all the way
to Central Park for lunch?

Our picnic would have to be postponed too, since all of Carl Schurz Park's 15 square acres were roped off as well. This was indeed a sad moment for the kiddies whose nannies bring them to its playground. On the other hand, I would have paid cash money to see the pickleball players get the heave-ho. You just knew those overgrown Ping Pong chumps probably threw a fit being denied their daily 30 minutes of glory.

"Hey, I'm down here!"

A reporter from WCBS-TV news was on the scene covering the... well, I was going to say "action", but there was really nothing to see other than flashing police lights and cops not answering our questions. 

This left the reporter to interview locals who wanted some screentime on the afternoon news. The hard-hitting questions I could hear being asked were along the lines of, "What do you think of this activity in your neighborhood?" and "Does this make you afraid?" And you just know she wanted people to answer the second question in the affirmative. Fear sells.

Mayor Mamdani might have to keep this
handy for future recycling. 

Unlike the weekend's drama, the lockdown was lifted in the midafternoon, as the "suspicious device" was not so suspicious after all. Whether it was just an empty soda bottle or something similar gussied-up as a bomb just for laughs depends on what news report you read or heard. 

By 4:00, Yorkville returned to its normal state of daily sameness. Although I'm unsure what that sameness really is now.

                                                           *************

UPPER EAST VIOLENCE

"Excuse me, could you keep it down, please? We're
having our luncheon."

While my wife and I were
having a pleasant lunch of soup and sandwich on Saturday afternoon, there was a full-scale riot going on three blocks away -- and we had no idea. Maybe because the Upper East Side isn't known for anything more violent than disputes over who plays pickleball next.

What could go wrong? 

This could have been avoided if our idiot president hadn't pardoned the criminals who tried to assassinate various Congresspeople a few years back. Jake Lang would have been behind bars instead of deciding it would be cool to lead a "Stop the Islamification" march in a city he couldn't find on a map of New York City. 

Lang, who describes himself as more right-wing than Nazis, must have known his little parade would bring out a larger counter-protest -- which was the whole idea. Start a riot outside the home of the Islamist Mayor of Jew York! 

Yow, who does he hate first? While my heart was with the counter-protestors, it doesn't mean there weren't some bad bananas in the bunch.

Meet Emir Balat and Ibrahim Kayumi, two junior members of the ISIS fan club who decided that a protest wouldn't be a protest unless they threw a homemade bomb into the crowd near the direction of Gracie Mansion, which, to remind you, is occupied by a Muslim couple. This is why we can't have nice things.

My neighborhood was locked down from 86th to 89th Streets between East End and First Avenues as the police searched the area for more bombs. With none found, the area was re-opened around 7:30 p.m., a full eight and a half hours following the start of the day's action. That's all, folks!

Hah! That's what we thought.

The bomb squad is considering opening a branch
office in my neighborhood.

The following afternoon, East End Avenue was closed again, this time from 83rd to 79th, with the bomb squad once more on the scene. This time, I was aware of what was going on and got to see for myself part two of our weekend of terrorist activities. 

A "suspicious device" (read: bomb) was seen in a car parked a block or two away, likely linked to the two wannabe terrorists, and leading to a partial evacuation of the area. Living outside the perimeter of the crime scene allowed us to stay inside and have dinner in peace -- other than the sirens on the ground and helicopters flying overhead. People were allowed back to their homes by 8:00 that evening.

Please note that the assholes who caused this trouble -- Jake Lang, Emir Balat and Ibrahim Kayumi --are all out-of-towners. God, these fucking tourists.

                                                               ***********

METRO NO-WIN MAYOR

If the Post put the same effort in reporting
news as creating their front pages, they'd win
a Pulitzer Prize.

It should be obvious that the establishment fears Mayor
Zohran Mamdani not because he's going to destroy New York but that he will keep his promises without destroying it. 

Therefore, it's incumbent for the New York Post to churn out cut-and-paste front pages like the one on the right to amp up the fear factor. (I don't recall any tears when previous mayor Bill de Blasio declared Zoom classes would eliminate "snow days".) Expect future Post headlines like these:

MAM BEFORE THE STORM: Zohran holds storm press conference despite not having meteorology degree

NO SNOW ZO: Mamdani refuses to join New Yorkers sledding on hill outside Gracie Mansion

ZOVERTIME OVERDRIVE!: Mamdani okays snowplow operators to cash in on snowstorm by working overtime to keep streets clear 

ULYSSES S. MAMDANI: Historian says Zohran's beard similar to that of corrupt RINO president

ZO: "NO HO!": Mamdani cracks down on underage sex work, costing teens spending money

MOM, DAMNIT!: Mayor insists on single mothers having affordable healthcare whether they want it or not

ZOMNY CARD: Riders complain free buses more crowded: "Saving $3 not worth it"

ZO GROWS SHOPPING TIME: Longer lines at grocery stores as lower healthcare costs end choice between medicine or food

MAMDANI: "SALAMI? BALONEY!": Zohran's veggie meals hurting local meat industry

ZOHRAN NO RAN: Thousands run marathon in rain while Mamdani keeps dry at pricey UES restaurant

MAMDANI NOT GOING FOURTH: Fireworks as Mamdani declares Independence (Day) from all-American franks in favor of Mideastern kabobs

ZO DOC? NO DOCS!: Mamdani cures cancer, puts surgeons out of work

                                                      ****************

ADAMS & SKEEVE

 Like Long Covid or a pesky fly in the kitchen, Eric Adams will not go away. Less than two weeks after Zohran Mamdani was sworn into office, the former Mayor and present-day grifter turned up in Times Square -- an ironic spot for a guy who doesn't seem to understand that his time is up.

Adams announcing this scheme outside the
NYPD in Times Square -- this guy does not
understand the concept of irony.

In what was undoubtedly the opening salvo in his upcoming four-year attempt to
steal more than just the spotlight, Adams introduced the NYC Token. This isn't what you'd use to ride the subway, but a crypto currency that, will be used to  "address anti-Americanism, antisemitism, to teach our children how to embrace the blockchain technology of how to run cities correctly."

 Adams couldn't stop talking about -- make that took advantage of --antisemitism when the Muslim candidate kicked his ass in the primaries. Adams then ramped it up in the general election, when he received 6,897 votes out of over two million cast. While antisemitism is and will always be a problem, Adams (and his fellow fathead Andrew Cuomo) explicitly linked it to Mamdani. In their thirst to win the election, they were really campaigning on the anti-Muslim ticket. Who says politics is cynical?

So, while watching the news reports of the crooked-as-the-Shenandoah-River former mayor's crypto crap, I muttered to my wife, "This is just a pump and dump." Not like I'm any genius when it comes to economics -- every celebrity crypto business is a sham. Guess what happened.

Thirty minutes! That is some fast work there, pardner. Maybe faster than all those payoffs from Turkish officials. Here are some more details:

A wallet tied to the token’s deployer pulled $2.5 million in USDC liquidity at the market peak, only to re-add $1.5 million after the token’s price had already plunged more than 60%, according to Bubblemaps. The token’s market cap briefly touched $600 million before crashing below $110 million.

Observers likened the activity to the infamous LIBRA token collapse last year, where manipulated liquidity preceded a multi-million dollar wipeout. Critics also warned of centralized control and opaque fund flows.

Are you weeping yet?

Two kinds of people invest in celeb crypto. Wide-eyed fans who think some of that star-power translates into riches, and insiders who are out to scam them. And whether it's Kim Kardashian or Donald Trump, the scammers (and their friends) always win -- in this case, in a half hour. It doesn't matter how many times it happens, numbskulls fall for it.  And thank God because it gives me something to write about. As the president says, I like uneducated people. Sometimes.

Now Donald Trump's newest protégé successfully pulled a fast one on the public. If this is how "to teach our children how to embrace the blockchain of how to run cities correctly" as Adams promised, we've got a hell of a future ahead of us. It's all Mamdani's fault, I guess.

                                    *********************

RAPADOPE

Sure, I'd love to run into this dolt outside of
Gracie Mansion.

One week following Zohran Mamdani's inauguration as Mayor of New York, the race to oust him in 2029 has already begun. 

Please! Can't we go one month without political ads clogging up the airwaves again? Not if you're an actor who, as the Hollywood Reporter

reminds us, may be best known for his role as Phoebe Buffay’s cop boyfriend, Gary, in season five of Friends. For the person throwing his baseball cap into the ring is Michael Rapaport.

And just like that, she
was back on TV again.

The last time an actor ran for office in New York State was in 2018 when Cynthia Nixon challenged Andrew Cuomo in the Democrat primary for Governor. To this day, I'm not sure if Nixon was really serious about winning, trying to push Cuomo further to the left, or killing time before HBO approved a sequel to Sex and the City. 

Rapaport seems like he means it. He's already using Trump-speak, referring to "Zohran the Moron". That's pretty rich, as Rapaport makes Curtis Sliwa sound like Bertrand Russell. As he posted on Instagram (misspelling "Zohran"):

I, Michael Rapaport, am running for Mayor of New York City — 2029. Born. Raised. NYC. Nothing’s free. No bullshit. No fake grins. I’ll own my mistakes, apologize when I screw up, and fight to make this city safe, affordable, and thriving. You got Zoron the Moron now…Mayor Rapaport is coming. How do you like apples? 🍎🗽

I like apples clean, sweet, and crisp, traits Michael Rapaport lacks, which can be confirmed by the comment he made on his podcast announcing his campaign: 

“We have a shit stain at the helm right now in New York City, and it is a reality. It is a fucking reality. I think he’s going to supersede our wildest fears and expectations. Zohran the Zero, Zohran the Ziophobe, he is going to supersede all our fears and expectations.”

TBH, he probably
considers McDonalds
too upscale.

When Rapaport says he was born and raised here, it's a not-so-subtle reminder that Mamdani is from one of those foreign countries with a funny name and people with dark skin. "Ziophobe" means Mamdani didn't approve of the indiscriminate destruction of hospitals, schools, and the like in Gaza. (Mandy Patinkin, who's so Jewish that he's starting to look like a 17th century rabbi, sang at Mamdani's inauguration. And that was after the Mayor celebrated Hannukah with him and his family.)

You know haters are running out of things to hate when Rapaport condemns Mamdani's choice of sushi restaurants. According to Phoebe's boyfriend from season five of Friends, the place Zohran likes is too good for a pro-working-class Mayor. You think a multi-millionaire man of the people like Rapaport eats at McDonalds? 

It might be a good idea for Rapaport to see how a Mamdani administration plays out before trying to take him down. And, if he does run, to decide which party he belongs to. If Mamdani is still popular in four years, running as a Dem in the primary is a waste of time. Running as the official Republican candidate would make the local GOP even more of a joke than it is already. 

That leaves his only choice as an Independent or some made-up party like Eric Adams and Andrew Cuomo did. Rapaport could be the first candidate for the No Sushi Party. But he'll probably hate getting votes from all those woke vegans.

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