Where the magic happens.
As Mom used to say as she filled our juice glass with Four Roses, what a week! The Go John Galt nuts threatened a “wealth producers” strike, though some of their numbers seemed not to have much wealth production to speak of. (Many other Americans scaled back their productivity, but not by choice.)
Rightblogger Ross Douthat got hired as a columnist for the New York Times, forcing us to revisit his greatest hits.
Last week’s community board vote on the Coney Island plan was a shambles, though at least Neil deMause got us a classic audio file of councilmember Dominic Recchia yelling “I’M RESPECTED! I AM LOOKED UPON IN THIS COMMUNITY! AND ESPECIALLY AT CITY HALL!” and other choice ravings.
Meanwhile Adolfo Carrion, the Bronx’s gift to the Obama Administration, managed to embarrass New York on a federal level as news of his shady deck (get it?) — for which he hasn’t even paid yet — was revealed by Tom Robbins.
The stomach-turner of the week was the trial of Rabbi Israel Weingarten, in which he cross-examined the daughter who accused him of abusing her, got his other daughters to say it was Mom who did the abusing, and wound up getting convicted anyway. E-eeyuck for effort, sir.
Wayne Barrett showed us that even funerals can be sifted for political significance, with Bill Thompson meaningfully missing from the speakers at Amsterdam News publisher Bill Tatum’s send-off — and Mayor Bloomberg painfully vamping during his turn.
Like a lot of Mets fans, Neil deMause went online at the first sale of 2009 Citi Field tickets — and came up with next to nothing.
It wasn’t all bad news. We were happy to learn that Yusuf Ramelize, the artist who went homeless for a week, actually made it home in one piece, though his socks were rendered unusable. Tony Ortega beat up the Scientologists some more. Brooklyn got its own perfume. And Bernie Madoff went to jail! (Let’s see that smirk now, buddy.)
But behind every silver lining, there’s a cloud: maybe it means something that the highlight of our week was the victory of a pretend-journalist over a pretend-financial-analyst. As with the Madoff smackdown, it was fun and it felt like justice, but back in the un-pretend world, the same crooks and schnooks remain in charge.