a long way from Williamsburg

I found this image searching Google while preparing my post about Ashley Gilbertson's book. It's from a photo-sharing site in an album maintained by a Marine photo journalist, Staff Sergeant Chad McMeen. This is the photographer's own caption:

This Marine customized his bicycle beyone the point most are capable of. By extending the front forks and welding the rear swingarm in a lower angle he was able to position himself feet above the ground. Somehow with a backpack, bulky jacket and rifle slung across his body he managed to mount the bike and ride effortless.

[image from webshots]

lights out

The pink cupcake is dark tonight. Dead. And long may it rest, in oblivion.

I was immediately sorry for what the closing of Burgers & Cupcakes might mean to its employees, but minutes after I heard the news from Barry that the restaurant had closed (he had seen the sign on the window this evening) I told him that I actually felt sorry for the owners.

Then he reminded me that one of them had referred to that paragon of neighborhood aesthetics and sensitivity, the Sixth Avenue branch of the huge Caliente Cab Company chain, as a model for what they described as (if not in the same word) their own landmark sign, a giant spotlighted, revolving cupcake poised on top of an illegal canopy above the curb. Now I can feel totally comfortable saying that anyone who could argue that the archtypical Village monstrosity was an appropriate model for a new, improved 23rd Street totally deserves to go out of business.

We had a celebratory toast before a late supper tonight.

With no thanks to our City Council representative.

UPDATES: Today the giant cupcake itself is nowhere to be seen, although the illegal canopy on which it once rotated remains in place. [reporting from the scene on Tuesday, October 2] Now [later this afternoon] we've heard that someone had paid $400 to take it away.