SIGN LANGUAGE, PT. 11

 You can't take five steps in New York without getting bombarded by messages, ads, and other pieces of useless "information", Here are a few recent samples, accompanied by my pithy commentary.

Nothing beats walking in Central Park on a sunny spring day while looking at                   your phone and pretending there are orange curtains in front of you.

Hate to break it to you, bro, but the only thing anybody is going to trade                                                              any item of theirs for is money.

I appreciate the suggestion, but I'm more interested in figuring out the bus                                                               route if you don't mind.

      If you ever asked the question "What would the love child of Spongebob                           Squarepants and John Lennon look like?", here's your answer.                               

Bill Ritter and Marza are news anchors on WABC-TV.  And as you can see, we                                           New Yorkers take our news seriously.

Ever hear of someone having a "punchable face"? I'd like to take a goddamn                                                             steamroller to this guy's.

                                            Hey, it worked for Donald Trump!

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SIGN LANGUAGE, PT. 10

The signs that started going up during the covid days show no sign of abating, although one in this list is actually professional, legal, and from the local Landmarks Commission. I told you we lived in a classy area!

This plaque recently went up on the townhouse where Walter Cronkite lived just a few buildings west of ours. My wife and I would see him occasionally and exchange good mornings/afternoons/evenings with him and his wife. He seemed to be used to greetings from strangers. His afternoon Christmas parties coincided with my wife's birthday; they were always breaking up when we were going out to dinner. The 60 Minutes gang could be seen putting on their overcoats as they left. My strongest memory is Morley Safer with a cigarette dangling from his mouth like a common hoodlum. After Cronkite's wife died, he moved out and, at age 89, shacked up with Carly Simon's older sister Joanna at UN Plaza until his death four years later. We still miss those Christmas parties. 

As you can probably tell, this has been up a while. The dog's name is Puck. I sympathize with Puck's owner, but there might be more than a few people who would rather go fund their own brain surgery. Nothing funny about the whole situation, but something about BIDEN on his face makes me laugh, as it would TRUMP or OBAMA or HILLARY or DE BLASIO. Especially DE BLASIO.

Wowee, do these two ladies tick all the boxes or what? So much so it kind of makes me think Olivia and Ava are actually lures for horny guys to join a dating site. And if Olivia and Ava are actually sentient human beings, horny guys aren't looking to be "friends" with single women on something called Fourplay. (Yeah, I know the other word is spelled differently, but guys are hearing the word in their head.) By the way, anybody know what "tuna melt girly" is? If it's anything like the tuna melt that gave my wife food poisoning, somebody tell Ava it's a turn-off. 

Nothing like getting your kid interested in reading by referring to books as crap.

Time and weather have done damage to the ad, but what it comes down to is this: someone is willing to clean the unwanted crap from your closet for $80/hour. Talk about Upper East Side problems. I feel like hanging up a sign underneath it: STAY HOME THE NEXT RAINY SUNDAY AND DO IT YOURSELF FOR FREE! But where's the bragging rights to that?

Another one that's been up forever. So long, in fact, that I can't tell what exactly I'm not supposed to feed outside those buildings. Oh well. Guess I'll keep feeding the birds.

Another neighbor who wins my sympathy. But, you know, it would help if DOGS COULD READ!

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SIGN LANGUAGE, PT. 9

 Just because New York is opening up, Derek Chauvin is going to the slammer, and Bill de Blasio is on his way out, doesn't mean people still aren't slapping up signs everywhere. Messages are still important, even what they say isn't. Does that make sense? Do any of these make sense?

Some joker altered this sign outside a condo on East 86th Street. Was he denied an apartment by the board after being promised one? 

                                                              

At first glance, I thought this was an interesting question. Then I realized it said  MEDITATED, and not MEDIATED. I still don't know what the correct answer would be.

                                         

                                                      

But will you respect me in the morning?

Ah ha! That's why I'm hungry a half hour after eating Gen. Tso's Chicken!

                                

I'd find this a depressing thought, but I don't care.

The Axis of Fine Dining.

Now this is different. It's a printout of a 14 year-old email from local real estate developer Bruce Menin to Ivanka Trump regarding a charity wingding.  Maybe that "I'm glad we cleared the air in person" comment is in regard to her refusing to contribute to his Foundation, since she is "without any obligation to give". How do you think Menin felt having to suck up to the 25 year-old offspring of his rival?

Mourn Mom, then visit the re-opened gem exhibit at the Met. You know she'd do the same for you!

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SIGN LANGUAGE, PT. 8

 Just as masks and social distancing seem like they're here to stay (vaccine or no), so do the stickers and messages on every available public surface in New York. Everybody, it seems, has something to say, sell or promote. I don't see anyone paying attention to these things -- other than myself, of course. But at least it gives me something to write about when I'm otherwise stumped.

 

                                              Because we're all in this together.

                                Capital idea! At least it gives me something to do.

 

                                                      Do us all a favor and sit down.
 

 

 In case you can't make that out, it says DEBLASIO IS A MISCREANT. Proving New York has the most eloquent graffiti artists in the world.

 

                                                        Well, maybe not.

 

                                       More to the point: who wants to?

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SIGN LANGUAGE, PT. 7

Now I know what "smiling with gritted teeth"
means.

If you want a sign that Joe Biden is looking out for his VP Kamala Harris, here it is: he's allegedly naming Pete Buttigieg the Ambassador to China next year. 

That means only one thing: likely one-termer Biden wants a rival ensconced 7,000 miles away so that Harris has a better shot at the job in 2024. You heard it here first (and probably last).

Then there are other signs -- the kind that magically appear overnight in my neighborhood, the way phone books once appeared on everybody's doorstep. (Are phone books even a thing any more?) And so it's time once again to travel around the Upper East Side to see what we're supposed to know, think, and feel, whether we want to or not.

Well, it looks like the First Revolution will have to do without me, because there's no way I'm giving up my skirt steak with Argentinian chimichurri. Maybe the vegans should change their mind for once in their lives.
 

Here in the Northeast, not a problem. In the South, and Midwest... not so much.

 

Think the person who wrote this warning is aware that they're part of the problem?

So because I'm well I have to pay more? I'm a victim of healthism! 

Call me persnickety, but this seems to be something of an oxymoron. 

Now, you can't call this the opposite of an oxymoron, because that would make it a tautology. Like "Genius Trump". However, I agree with what the person is saying. But seeing that it's written on glass, it puts me in the awkward position of being part of the dictum rather than just an observer. Advice to amateur statesmen: when sharing your enlightenment, make sure to do it on non-reflective surfaces. I expect to get paid when I'm on camera.

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SIGN LANGUAGE, PT. 6

Speaking of science fiction, wouldn't it be nice to get into a
time machine to 2012?

I look back with deep nostalgia to the days when a black guy was president and a billionaire was the mayor of New York.  It seems like science fiction now.

My take on the USA is one of doubt, sadness, and a feeling that things are going to get worse -- and not necessarily before they get better, but will that they will never get better. 

What to do? Watch TCM, avoid the news, and read the signs, stickers and scrawls that have become such a product of New York over the last six months. It won't help to change things, but sometimes distractions are better than nothing.

 

 

 

I'm not exactly sure what the message is here. How subversive is the idea of Felix the Cat happily going to work? Does the star on his shirt signify Communism? Is he trying to (literally) throw a monkey wrench into the system? And where the hell are factories in New York City anymore?

 

You know, that's really not a problem to find. Now, a woman without jade plants is entirely different.

 

No problem. As long as closed circuit cameras can keep filming criminals mugging, shooting and knifing innocent victims.

I sympathize with your point of view, but how about you shoot him and see what the punishment is?

 

By all means, please start a chat with your lucky bamboo when someone's breaking into your apartment.

 

I get a different message from this every time I read it. But no matter what I think it's promoting, it's never a good thing.

So why do I want to strangle half the people in this country?

 

 You don't say! Take a look at the D-Day photos below:

 

Now go back to yelling "Who's streets? Our streets!" and putting up stickers around the Upper East Side, Skippy.

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SIGN LANGUAGE, PT. 5

It seems like the sun hasn't been seen in New York for over a week. The skyscrapers appear to blend in with the grey skies. Even when the clouds break, it's either for just a moment, or at sunset, when it does no good at all. 

The weather, as my wife said, is reflecting the mood of the city. With endless lines of people waiting for their flu shots, COVID tests, or to take part in early voting, time has stopped. Every day is like the one before -- just as it was in the early days of the pandemic. Thank God for signs and stickers going up everywhere to jazz things up.

These signs started going up on the first day of early voting. This being New York, the  unspoken message is, Vote for who I want you to vote for. And this being an overwhelmingly Democrat town, you know this wasn't the handiwork of a Trump voter.

 

 

I'd be happy to, if I knew which MFH you were talking about. If you mean Master of Foxhunting, I suggest you visit the English countryside. Mercurity Fintech Holding? Drop by the New York Stock Exchange. Malignant fibrous histiocytoma? Nobody wants to be in the position of proving that. 

The only thing I trust about anarchy is that I can't trust it. I don't think anarchists are that cute, either. By the way, you're not going to find many supporters on the Upper East Side. The closest thing to anarchy we have is when the liquor store runs out of certain Rieslings.

At first, I thought this was a vaguely threatening message from an unknown organization. Anarchists? Militias? Renegade cops? It wasn't until I looked at the photo at home that I noticed the Taco Bell logo. The only thing Taco Bell "got" anybody is a hasty trip to the bathroom five minutes after eating their food.

Dermot Shea is the Police Commissioner of New York. BLM protesters don't like the way cops have been handling the marches for the past several months. I think whoever made this poster was trying to make a pun out of Shea's name by turning it into SHEAMED, believing that was how to spell SHAMED. Now that's a shame. But you know what's funny? The red nose really does make him look a clown.

Considering the state of the world, you better give me a good reason. Five point penalty for the unnecessary comma and capital T in Today.

And if you've been to the Museum of Modern Art, you'll agree 100%.

I admit, this is stretching the concept of signage. But it's always good to see a labor union bring out the giant inflatable rat when a business hires non-union workers, or, in this case, protests the Guggenheim Museum firing 11% of its staff after accepting $10-million in federal loans. The museum has also slowed negotiations over a collective bargaining agreement for the last year. After both sides settle, the Museum will probably install the rat in the lobby as "a symbol of 21st-century protest designed to draw attention to decidedly unfair management practices."

OK, OK, I know this has been all over the news and the internet. But there's nothing like seeing it in person, as I did this afternoon. If this was post-War Paris in 1945, these two grifters would have their heads shaved before being marched through the middle of town for collaborating with the enemy. Wherever they wind up, it will be so nice not to be subjected to these motherfuckers. Or, in Ivanka's case, fatherfucker.

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