Friday, May 30, 2008
He started out his press conference defending the construction company, saying that construction fatalities happened all over the world---he came thisclose to saying construction fatalities are just the cost of doing business, and was clearly annoyed at being challenged about how many we have had.
The New York we know, aside from the big tourist attractions, is disappearing--all the nicer old buildings are being torn down for the crime of being too short, so blue glass condos, like the "Azure", the building with the crane, can be built--each one with a red plastic bank branch on the ground floor. All at breakneck speed. I can see three such cranes from my window.
Wonderful Town is dying, to be replaced by dangerous but dull CondoMallopolis. And our flinty little billionaire mayor is at the helm.
EXCELLENT JOB, BLOOMIE!
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
We thought a relative peace would reign. No more fliers slipped under our doors with headlines like:
Well, we haven't had more of those, but we've had something better: a newsletter from our state senator, declaring his devotion to us. Very exciting! He's never felt the need to communicate with *Muttonchop City residents by you-the-taxpayer-funded newsletter before. But here he is, with the *Muttonchop City Report, a First Edition:
So you the taxpayer get to pay for Senator Neville's apologia for signing on to a bill that would return some of your tax money to you--the taxpayer.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Here are our two candidates, *Vincent Piano, co-founder of our little anti-priv***z**** (ends in "atization")group, Muttonchop Ethical Housing, and *Nora Kerrigan, steadfast and even pugnacious ex-nun, drowning their sorrows at *the Eire Inn, the Muttonchop City pub.
Vincent is ordering his usual: apple pie with chocolate ice cream. He's also partial to Dewar's. Nora likes a good spicy Bloody Mary but I have unaccountably given her a martini.
The third person is Hannah Goldman, our main writer and incendiary device thrower. She could be drinking the martini; I left some ambiguity between drinks and hands. In fact, she likes her bloody Mary spicy but more important, large.
Hannah and Vincent initially loathed each other; she is a feminist, atheist, activist, red-diaper anthropologist, and he is a nineteenth century, courtly, Roman Catholic . He is Cyrano without the nose.
Now they are closeasthis. They collaborate: Vincent writes elaborate, impenetrable disquisitions; Hannah brutally edits them into Hannah-style bulleted lists, with footnotes, and always the admonition:
"MUTTONCHOP RIGHTS IS TRYING TO (FILL IN THE BLANK)--DON'T LET THEM!
*all names, appearances and search terms changed to protect the Pollys from the wrath of their lovely neighbors.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
- "Vote Me"--- Mrs. Mamma runs every year, independently, as an anti-other ethnicities candidate. She never wins, but her children, Dominique and Dom-boy, are very proud of her.
- "You'll Be Rich"---Muttonchop Rights has a simple message everybody wants to hear. Three sweet syllables. It's false, of course, or only true for a minority of people (the lawyers and brokers in Muttonchop Rights)
- "Ask for More Information,and You'll See That You Won't Be Rich Because You Need to Live Somewhere So You'll Have to Buy a Place Unless You Already Have One And Besides They Count the Same Money Three Different Times And Besides It's Wrong to Take Something You Benefited From and Leave Nothing For Anybody Coming After You And Within Five Years Maintenance Will More Than Double But Not Right Away And They'll All Be Gone And We'll Be In The Hole"
You see our problem: our message is not sound-biteable, it's indigestible. True, but indigestible.
titular head of Muttonchop Rights Toby Mugg, Vincent Piano, and Board President Will Waskoal
Vincent should be called "Pianissimo," for his reputed years of deft, unctuous behind-the-scenes manipulations on the Board. He's from the Old Neighborhood, where old pols pulled all the strings of everyday life, and he has the aura of those old-time pols. Nobody will ever be able to suss out his ultimate motivations, probably including Vincent.
But he has come out solidly, even heroically, against *Priv***za***n. As a member of the anti-theft minority on the board, he rises to object to virtually every motion through a chorus of groans. It's a useless formality, since every "open" board meeting is preceded by the real meeting, which takes place at Wil Wascoal's apartment, and excludes Vincent. There the real business is decided, to be subsequently presented to the minority as a fait accompli.
Despite his present powerlessness, Vincent is regarded with the sort of fear usually accorded those whose images don't show up in mirrors and other classic cartoon villains:
from our Lovely Neighbors at Muttonchop Rights, Inc
Now here is an official, complex-wide acknowledgement of our Sheeplike status, and a death threat, or at least morbidly wishful thinking. This kind of jumps out at you:When I decided to call our housing complex "Muttonchop City," it was to emphasize that we sheep are about to be more than shorn, we're going to be dinner. I wanted to not get more death threats, hide from the search engines of my lovely neighbors,and from the sue-happy lawyers of Muttonchop Rights:
Monday, May 5, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
Our apartment complex, *Muttonchop City, is in the throes of *Priv---oops, can't say it, but it ends in "atization." Thanks to a legal loophole,we're voting on whether we can sell our YOU THE TAXPAYER subsidized apartments for twenty times what we paid. One little group is trying to oppose this legalized theft, not very successfully so far.
Yes, this is true. Yes, this is happening here. 95-year-old Clara writes spirited anti-Priv. letters to the local paper, so she's hated. When she was 92, she was sued for slander by the Titular Head of *Muttonchop Rights, acting as counsel for the even nastier Jerry Lewis sound-a-like lawyer, *Lonnie Angler.
We've a good idea who's the culprit:
Mr. Blatz has threatened my own Mr.Polly: "After we priv***ze, I'm gonna get you." Mr. Blatz has threatened so many old ladies he'll have to work a 40 hour week butchering them.
Mr. Blatz doesn't seem to realize that every time he rings Esther's doorbell, he's recorded by security cameras.
We're working on a surprise for Mr. Blatz.
all names, appearances and search terms have been altered to protect the Pollys from the wrath of their lovely neighbors.