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The bums of New York City were tossed out by former Mayor Giuliani, and can now be found in Newark’s Penn Station (that’s where old New York went). Nowadays, the only bums that can be found on the streets of NYC are the kin of yuppies, and the kin of kin of yuppies, by way of graffiti.
“F&ck the state!” sounds a lot like something a Wall Street megalomaniac would say when discussing his or her civic duty to pay taxes.
As we passed by the shuttered Don Hill’s, we silently hoped that a venue of some sort can open up in the space again, instead of the single story building being torn down for “luxury” condos — which is more likely. Anyway, as we thought about the future of the building we came across this Tim Burtonesque piece of art on the side of the building.
If love can save the children, can love save the Don Hill’s building?
Now that Christmas is over, we can sit back and think about the true meaning of Christmas with views like this one…
And ponder how Jesus died for the benefit of commercial consumerism.
We get a kick out of the charade of public pay phones here in New York City…
Most pay phones we come across are either completely busted like the one on the left, and most others have stickers on the receiver like the phone on the right that state “no dial tone.” This allows for no actual phone calls to be made, and thereby ensures that no plebian can accidentally get in the way of, or distract, the real purpose of the modern-day pay phone booths — the advertising that adorns the three sides that aren’t the charade of a telephone.
But this shot makes us wonder… if advertisers can figure out how to make the inside of a subway car one giant ad, why haven’t advertisers figured out a way to sell the inside space of the faux pay phones?
This wall on Collister Street in Manhattan was terrified by the thought of Hurricane Irene heading up to New York City.
If only these walls could talk… but at least they have facial expressions!