Mad Po

I'm back from Washington and being home has already been very eventful.

Yesterday I had plans to meet my buddy Daniel. We planned on greeting each other with a high-five at sixth avenue and ninth street and then go to a nearby bookstore. I rarely head over there but always enjoyed the neighborhood so I was looking forward to a nice stroll in the warm(ish) weather.

I was in a cab on 14th street when a platoon of at least fifteen cop cars zoomed past us at breakneck speeds. They were going in the same direction as us so traffic was screwed up. Once they passed, the street was closed and fifteen more cars zoomed by. The cab driver turned back and asked me:

"You sure you still wanna' go west?"

I thought about it. Was I about to enter a war zone? Probably. The answer?

"Hell yes."

We finally managed to get there and I got a call from Daniel. He said something crazy was happening at ninth and sixth. We had just arrived when an unmarked cop car swerved in front of the cab, blocking us off halfway through the street. I looked at the windows and realized that I was engulfed in chaos.

I paid the cabbie and apologized for getting him stuck in the life threatening situation and felt bad that I got to run for cover while he sat like a duck in the middle of the shit storm. The moment I got out I saw more cops in one concentrated area than I have in a long while, most armed with large assault rifles and angry German Shepherds.

A out of breath cop ran up to me and asked if I had seen an "African American man on foot." On my way over I had seen at least thirty African American men standing on feet. I hate this cop mentality that aggressively screaming a race and gender will narrow results when, in actuality, it just puts innocent people of the same race in gender in danger. The officer himself was black and I wanted to teach him a lesson and say "Yes I have, I'm talking to him right now" and teach him about other ways of describing people like, say, clothing. I didn't feel like getting shot in the face so I just said "no" and found Daniel.

I spoke to a man who had followed the scene on his bike. He said there was an intense car chase that at points went up on the sidewalk. The officers smashed his car a few feet away from my can and the man escaped.

Now hundreds of cops were walking around with dogs. Every so often the gigantic German Shepard would bark at someone in the crowd and I would get as far away from the imminent riot as possible.

Eventually the crowd dispersed and Daniel and I left. We couldn't find anything out about it then and can't now. Strange. All I do know is that it was fucking crazy.

After leaving the scene I saw Bill Hader of SNL fame. That was cool, too.

So handsome.

The Most Dangerous Banner Ever

A few years ago where Allen Street meets Houston American Apparel (which had a store around the corner) used to toss up the most sexually explicit ads ever on a gigantic banner. It was fail safe and for a few years the ads would be notorious amongst my group of friends. What do you expect? We were teenage boys with hormones spilling out of our nostrils like nosebleeds.

The thing was, every time they would put a new girl up we would all say "O.K, I know I said this last time but this is it. They will never top this. They will give up" and almost always, a few months later, they would put up an image of a less clad, more attractive woman. Here is an example.

They did actually drop the ball once by putting up the famous Woody Allen poster. It was a major fail in all elements. They lost money and we lost hope. I love Woody Allen as much as the next guy (in fact, probably more) but staring at him every Friday night expecting a beautiful woman was always underwhelming. Fail.

Then there was the dog. Ah, yes, the dog. If you can tell from the picture above, the ads looked over a traffic island. When crossing Allen Street you would always spend a few moments on this cement safe-haven and have nothing to stare at. Naturally, your eye would wander. At first I would try to be subtle: I didn't want to look like a perverted monster in front of everyone in my neighborhood. As time went on, however, I made no attempt to handle myself with a shred of chivalry. I would stare with my mouth wide open, head at a 45 degree angle, completely motionless. From across the street you could always see men doing the exact same thing. It was hilarious.

One day I was with Carlos and we were looking at our favorite.  This one:

We had both seen it at least fifty times in our lives. He said "What a lucky dog" and I had no idea what he meant. After examining it I realized, for the first time, that there was a dog in the photograph. 

From that day on, every time I saw some dude staring at this gal I would say "Hey did you notice the dog?" and 90% of the time they would go:

"HOLY SHIT THERE'S A DOG IN THAT PHOTO?"

I guess the eye likes to filter details out, sometimes.

The banner is gone now and they never tossed a new one up. I'm sure a few people ran red lights because of these things and maybe we are better off without them. Lord knows I don't need to see that shit every time I walk home. 

I'd like to thank Carlos for doing the research and finding the image of our lost love. 

I sign off with a personal message to Dov Charney: Thanks for being such a sleaze-bag.