The FDR - Fast and Furious in New York City

NASCAR – not impressed…
Indy Racing, Formula 1 – forget it…


If you want the PURE racing experience – hit the F-D-R Drive running along the East River in New York City.


Rubbing is racing on the FDR – Complete with break-neck speeds, nerves of steel and some of the most reckless idiots ever to have been awarded a driver's license. There is no trace of civility, maturity or common sense in these very special motorists – just pure adrenaline coupled with the IQ of a bruised apple.


No gap is too small, no lane change too ridiculous.


A great deal of this fun takes place at the Brooklyn Bridge approach. As you approach the bridge, there is a well-marked and clearly defined exit lane on the right. However, these Brooklyn-bound monsters of mayhem choose to ignore the lane altogether while following a Charles Manson-like set of instructions that are somehow burned into their collective psyche.


Step I: Speed up the left lane at 90 m.p.h. and then without warning – LOCK IT UP!


Step II: Plunge through two lanes of heavy traffic and begin shouting matches with all the cars and drivers in a 30-foot radius.


Step III: Continue vital cell phone conversation while spreading mass death and destruction behind you.


Step IV: And this is the most important part of the equation – NEVER, under any circumstances, EVER – let anyone squeeze in front on you. Who the hell do these people think they are???


This tried-and-true formula is obviously a success, because accident rates on the FDR Drive are always on the rise. The entire stretch of asphalt from the South Street Seaport to the George Washington Bridge becomes part of the FDR Parking Festival.


But don’t worry --Even accidents don’t quell this special brand of New York Road Rage. Cars still slash in front of one another even though their top speed is only about 3 mph.


“Way to go guy! You’re the WINNER!"

Faces Frozen Forever onto the Real Housewives of New York City

Those faces are frozen for a reason!!

If you are one those strange people who shove cosmetic needles and toxins into your face, this article will not evoke feelings of warmth and fuzziness.

I've always found the “Housewives of Wherever” genre to be overacted, tactless and without any redeeming value. But due to a recent Botox study released by the University of Southern California, I have discovered an aspect of the “Housewives of New York” that I cannot turn away from!!

The upper two-thirds of those "Housewife" faces DO NOT MOVE!

This is not a mean joke - these stiff and static grills are for real. Even during the "Housewives" commercials, there was always something that seemed a bit off. Now we know what it is, the upper quadrants of the "Housewife" faces are completely frozen from the jaw up. 

Whether they are swearing, swinging or swooning, those faces are locked into the death-grip of cosmetic toxins. These "housewives" bare a striking resemblance to the Nutcracker puppets, because the only part of their face that actually moves is their jaws. 

The study that drew me to this facial phenomenon deals with people who get Botox injections and subsequently lose their ability to convey emotions.  The study, released by the University of California, explains that these toxic shots, freeze facial muscles and deaden the face’s ability to display emotions.

Here’s the best part – you can watch any episode with the MUTE button on. There’s no need to hear what insidious venom they are spraying at one another.  The only way to read their emotions is by activating the closed-captioning function.

These stone-faced housewives strike an eerie resemblance to the old South Park characters before they switched to computer animation. Forgive me for not knowing the names of all the housewives, but I came up with a South Park character key.

Numbered left to right… 

#1 – Kyle

#2 - The Baroness would play Mayor McDaniels

#3 - The redhead looks like Mr. Garrison

#4 - Bethenny (ex-housewife or not) bares a striking resemblance to Wendy Testaburger

#5 - The crazy bug-eyed housewife is a dead-ringer for Cartman

#6 – It’s a tie between Tweak and Butters

An Unwelcome Handful of Meat

I was on my way to a meeting on the Lower East Side, when I chanced upon a very unlikely damsel in distress. OK, she wasn’t exactly a damsel. Young maidens are damsels and this woman was neither young nor was she a maiden.

She appeared to be in her late sixties, sporting medium-length white hair with some purple and pink highlights sprinkled in near the front. Since I never learned this woman’s identity, I have to assume her name was Gladys.

Gladys was standing close to a black iron fence in front of a famous New York graveyard called the Marble Cemetery. I could see right away that she was a multi-tasker. She was fumbling through her purse, trying to keep an umbrella upright and handling the reins of her two wild Pomeranians.

The second she saw me, she started yelling at me like we had some previous engagement, “Come over here please, I need your help! C’mon, C’mon.”

She put down her umbrella, secured the two pet Pomeranians and reached into her purse.

“Hold your hand out,” she ordered.

“Umm, what are you going to put into my hand?” I asked sheepishly.

“Don’t worry,” she assured me, “It’s just meat, do you know the legend of the Raven?”

I didn’t know about the raven, but ever the wiseass, I answered, “Doesn’t everyone?”

I held out my hand and she put a very suspicious looking piece of meat-like substance into it. As I eyed this meat-glob with some dismay, she reached into her purse and added a dried out piece of roast beef.

“I can’t throw very far,” Gladys explained. “Can you fling it over the fence towards the giant tree?” "You have to get it near the tree so the "raven" can get it."

I fired the meaty contents of my hands the instant she finished the sentence. The meat rocket sailed over the fence and landed right next to the giant tree. She was pleased, I was a bit nauseous, and she began speaking to the poms as if I had already left. I never saw this mysterious "raven" but I'm sure it could find better things to eat than that mess I had fired over the fence.

Life is like a handful of dirty meat in New York City, you never know what you’re going to get.

Steel Balls Rain Down on Bryant Park

One thing you can always count on New York City is that nearly everyone is willing to share their opinions and offer free unsolicited advice.

I ran into a telling example of that yesterday when I decided to have lunch in Bryant Park. The park has scores of steel picnic tables and when the weather is nice, people from all walks of life converge on the area for a variety of activities.

I was eating lunch close to the entrance of the park when I noticed a homeless gentleman heckling a city worker who was in the process of emptying the trash. It seemed that the homeless man didn’t think that the parks and recreation employee was moving fast enough.

He started urging the employee on saying,” Let’s move it, c’mon, c’mon, I got a schedule to keep!”

“Step it up, step it up, you’re putting me behind!”
Bryant Park's Motivational Speaker

To his credit, the city worker never batted an eye and continued to work through the strange words of encouragement that were befalling him.

Venturing farther into the park, I witnessed a group of about twenty people lobbing steel balls into the air. I picked one of ball-chuckers and asked him what he was doing. He sat down and explained the legend of the French game called “PETANQUE!”

He said that city officials were getting bogged down by complaints because people were betting big money on Speed Chess in Bryant Park.

In an effort to squelch the "Betting on the Bishops issue," the city yanked up the tables engraved with chessboards and replaced them with a pair of Petanque fields???

That’s right – PETANQUE!

One of two petanque fields at Bryant Park

It’s a French version of Bocce Ball bringing together New York locals and French Immigrants onto this shaded field of battle. They toss metallic balls at a smaller ball known as the jack or as the French say, “cochonnet.” Each person has his or her unique stance and it brings out a large audience of French-speaking people.

Striking the PETANQUE pose

My only question is --- what’s supposed to keep the chess gamblers from infiltrating the Pentanque Park? I think the authorities thought this one out. Angry French guys schooled in the art throwing large steel balls should be more than enough to keep out the riffraff, even in New York City.