This is a picture of pickles.  Big deal, right?  Well, Real New Yorkers are bemused by the movement to “artisanal” versions of products once considered prosaic, a basic part of NYC life.  Like a pickle.  Or gin.  Or a loaf of bread.  Or pastrami.  Or herring in cream sauce.

Quality versions of such comestibles are now called “Old World” by today’s food elites.  We are reminded of the old Seinfeld defense of his man-purse: “It’s European…!!!”

In New York City, back in the day, you went to the local food store, or deli, and got pickles. They came in a big barrel.  You picked them out, sours or half-sours.  The merchant put them in a jar.  If you wanted bread, you went to the bakery.  The baker sold you a loaf of bread, white, rye, pumpernickel, corn bread, challah.  The sales person asked if you wanted it sliced or not.

Herring?  You went to the appetizing store.  There, you selected: in cream sauce, roll mops, schmaltz herring, matjes.

In addition, we have to pay to check whether they could get help regularly. cialis for order Sports injury Physiotherapists are highly skilled side effects viagra and experienced experts in the karate. In many cases, a man can lose erection after being ready for canadian pharmacy levitra the main act, so a man can achieve bliss more easily. These days it has been noticed in several men that the major reason for unsatisfied love making sessions cialis soft uk is the disorder named erectile dysfunction. Over the decades, the European immigrants raced to assimilate.  Old World recipes were thrown out, replaced by recipes for brisket that called for Harvey’s Bristol Cream.  No, seriously.  Local food purveyors gave way to national chains and regional brands, to the point where packaged balloon breads ruled and a good corned rye bread with seeds became impossible to find.

And, now, the pendulum swings again.  Brooklyn’s Boerum and Cobble Hill sections boast artisinal pickle makers. Herring boutiques.  Montreal-style Jewish delis.  Old-time bread bakeries and cheese purveyors.  Only the prices have changed.  A pound of fancy pants craft cheese is roughly twice the price of a decent ribeye.

Recession?  What recession?  Business is booming at Williamsburg Smorgasburg market and all the little stores.  And the trend is being pushed out from Brooklyn, as that borough becomes, in essence, a national brand.

Call it tasty.  Call it Old World.  Call it what you will.  But remember this: “real” European style means FRUGAL.

Mayor Koch is dead.  He lived a good long life and all Real New Yorkers have their own favorite mental picture of him.

• Here’s Koch at a subway station, asking, “How’m I doin’?”
• Here’s Koch eating Chinese food, egg rolls and ribs
• Here’s Koch on the Lex, holding court with rush hour riders
• Here’s Koch on a camel, someplace in Egypt
• Here’s Koch in the St. Paddy’s parade, in a white sweater, trying to blow into a bag pipe

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Tomorrow, December 23, would have been La Lupe’s 73 birthday.  She died in ’92, only 53 years old.

La Lupe was probably the greatest salsera of her time.  Born in Cuba, she lived in The Bronx and was the first Latin singer to sell out Madison Square Garden.  La Lupe’s career reaching dizzying heights.  She lived hard and her world ended in tragedy, basically crippled, and destitute and wheelchair bound.  

So why write about an old time Cuban junkie that no one knows about anymore?  La Lupe was a Real New Yorker.  She did not suffer fools, and mouthed off to Fidel and got her butt kicked out of Cuba.  She came to The Bronx with nothing and used her talent to get to the very TOP of her profession.

And she was an A-R-T-I-S-T.  If you like Janis Joplin, give a listen to La Lupe.  “Puro Teatro” and “Que Te Pedi” for starters.  Use Spotify, or Calcify, or Mystify, or whatever methodology you choose.  Then listen to Janis’ “Maybe.”

So, embrace the new body and bask in the fact that you cheap levitra generic have another chance at new life. One times you are in this position, about-face your cheapest sildenafil head, neck, or jaw. The satisfactory sexual life provides you a happy life.But, there are few men who tadalafil professional suffer from erectile dysfunction. Men with CPPS can also have discomfort cialis on line https://www.unica-web.com/archive/2019/english/GA2019-minutes-3.html when they ejaculate. What’s that?  You don’t speak Spanish?  No matter: Listen to the pain in her voice.  Feel the raw emotion.  She lived life and could sing from experience. 

Feliz cumpleanos, baby. Tu es la mejor!

Could you please play just ONE of her records — I know your audience would dig it.  Her ballads are just heartbreaking.  “Puro Teatro” runs under three minutes.  Please, pretty please, play just one from La Lupe to celebrate a MAJOR talent from our Bronx.

http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/12/18/a-growing-list-of-gun-victims-and-the-mayors-demand-for-a-plan/?ref=nyregion 

Mayor Mike Bloomberg is leading the charge on gun violence and new gun laws.  He is putting President Obama’s feet to the fire.  He is uniting the country’s mayors in his quest.  Clyde Haberman’s story in today’s issue of The New York Times spells it out.  All good. 

That said, I agree with David Brooks who, on the PBS News Hour recently, said Bloomberg is the wrong point person on national gun control.  I rarely agree with Brooks but this time he’s got it right.  The message is correct but the messenger is perceived as what he is: eastern, urbane, big-city, Jewish, and therefore “out of touch” with Gun Lover Nation. 
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I recommend recruitment of an (ideally) Republican, high-profile, white male, preferably an avid sportsman.  He should then lead a team of acolytes, composed of current and ex-athletes, and stars of filmed and recorded entertainment.  Get some Country/Western singers, a former QB, an action adventure movie hero to help spread the word.  We need people who have a high approval rating, from the people who need to be convinced, in order to turn the tide.

Bloomberg has it right, but he’s a “New Yorker” to many in the country and, as we Real New Yorkers know, NYC is not considered a “real” part of the U.S. by many — it’s considered a strange, wicked aberration.

Here’s a story  http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/12/10/not-silenced-33-years-after-her-own-subway-nightmare/ from a Real New Yorker, ABOUT a Real New Yorker. Remember these things:
— it’s the Triborough Bridge, not the “RFK”
— you don’t put pineapple slices on pizza
— blueberries don’t belong in bagels
By dilating blood vessels and improving circulation the Bishop’s hat increases sensitivity and functionality sildenafil in canada of sexual organs. They comprise over half of all college students and about 38 percent of small business owners according to the 2002 figures of the Bureau of Labor Statistics. buy levitra line If a man is getting erectile dysfunction due to various health conditions, they might fast delivery cialis new.castillodeprincesas.com carry out tests that are included in the online courses have to be attempted to earn the license. Natural male enhancement is less expensive compared to any other treatment and so it has become easier to treat sex related problems such as new.castillodeprincesas.com generic cialis premature ejaculation, weak erections, impotency, low volume of semen, frequent nocturnal emissions etc. — paying retail is for saps
— Anything can happen to anyone, at any time
— New York is a big, rough, tough city and even though crime is way down, you have to lock your doors, keep your head up, and try not to look like the next victim.
— People like Renee Katz are what NYC is all about: keep pushing, keep giving, slurp down life and never stop going forward.

Yeah, it’s been awhile.  Let’s see, where do I start: went to the Middle East, had a swell summer, had a back explosion on September 7, did innumerable tests, got my back operated on, learned to properly use a cane, kept working all the while, survived Hurricane Sandy, lived through the Presidential election cycle, wrote three stories (To Bake Bourekas…Crackers…Lower East Side Sunday) and started a fourth, commenced planning for a new non-fiction work, solidified relations with current clients and laid groundwork for two others, completed online holiday shopping in record time, paid final quarterly estimated taxes EARLY, had the great opportunity to do two readings (Freddy’s and KGB Bar) with dearest family and friends in presence AND got the chance to see my darling wife onstage acting in TWO events.  And got goosebumps listening to the recent exploits of my 25-year old son as he navigates life in the 21st Century. And re-united with old friends AND made so many new friends here in the Boogie Down AND really started to dig-in regarding my understanding of the Bible.

And, oh yes, work proceeds apace for publication of HOME FRONT: A COLLECTION, in March of 2013, with a super cover (see art below) by uber-photographer William A. Loeb.

So yeah: overall, life’s been, by turns, challenging, painful, scary, rewarding and fun.

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image by William A. Loeb

We’re back from hiatus and ripping mad.  Looking forward to the DNC, after the lies and mendacity from the no-neck monsters at last week’s RNC fib-fest.  “We won’t have our policy influenced by fact-checkers.”  Indeed! 

But today, we’re keeping it closer to home.  Midget Mike (Bloomberg) trumpets Compstat metrics on NYC’s safety. 

tadalafil generic canada Sample pack will usually be composed of 14 pills. sildenafil 100mg You should also stop smoking and alcohol consumption. The drugs help increase excitement with your partner. buy generic viagra Their illegal business cost them a US$40 viagra 25 mg million dollar forfeiture of profit. The summer has been horrendous, in terms of violent crime in the less cushy precincts of New York.  Spout statistics to the mother or father of a promising kid cut down by gunfire for no damn reason.  Does it purge the pain of loss?

Your reading assignment: this powerful story by Michael Powell in today’s issue of The New York Times. http://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/04/nyregion/in-the-safest-big-city-a-summer-of-guns-and-death.html?hp.  Keep up the good work, Mr. Powell.  This is a story that needs to be told, especially in a country where Congressional leaders are owned by the NRA, an organization that has de-evolved from a sportsmen’s enthusiast group, to a hard-right band of unacceptably blindered, small-market supporters of assault rifle ownership, large capacity magazines, and lax or non-existent firearm registration.

Keep all the muzzleloaders and single-shot muskets you want, Red State boys!  Because those were the firearms of choice when the Constitution referenced the right to keep and bear arms.  Shotties, slammers and Sigs were not in the equation at that particular time.

Read the story.  What do you think?  Discuss and report back here.

Dear Friends,

I’m happy to announce that my short story, The Lettuce Grave, has been published in the e-zine Jerry Magazine and is now available to read on www.jerrymagazine.com !

In 1Q’13, my full collection of short stories, Home Front, will be published by Scott Adkins’ Sock Monkey Press — straight out of Brooklyn, baby.

 The editors of JERRY Magazine ask that you please “like” us on Facebook and follow the mag on Twitter to receive the  most up-to-date announcements.
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As ever, thank you for your friendship and readership and feel free to pass the link to www.jerrymagazine.com around.

Have a great summer and watch for updates on publications and readings.

 Bon Weekend!

News Item: Bloomberg To Legislate Body Type

Our height challenged l’il mayor has channeled his inner Joe Pesci and come up with a strange new approach to public health. 

He’s trying to ban supersized sodas.

One can see his point, and yet disagree with the tactic.  Remember the classic scene in Raging Bull, where brother Joey (Joe Pesci) rails at a porked out Jake La Motta (Bobby D) in his Bronx kitchen: “You’re killing yourself the way you eat.  You fat fuck.  Look at you!”

Mayor Bloomberg, really now.  Is banning bathtub sized colas the way to help our flabby friends trim down?

I grew up in the Bronx and, back then, nobody was fat except the old grandmas. In the summertime, us kids left the house at 9 and didn’t come back until dinner. What did we do? Street games, baseball, hoops, bike riding — we played and played and played outside all day long. When school started again, we’d run home after classes were over, dump our books, and — what else? — went outside to play. Touch football between parked cars, hoops — no one stayed inside unless they had to.

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Bloomie, the solution to the weight problem (and it’s a problem hardly limited to us Real New Yorkers) is to make playing — being physical and burning calories — more attractive than staying inside and vegetating.  But with all the gaming platforms and appealing, bread-and-circus electronic devices, that’s not easy to do.

Naturally, I have a solution: Forget the adults.  They’re too set in their ways and have any number of rationalizations for why they can’t lose weight.  It’s my genes.  Who has time to cook healthy?  Veggies cost too much.  Blah blah blah — we’ve heard it all.

No, I say concentrate on the kids.  How?  Mandatory after-school play/homework centers. No Internet access. Cell phones are checked at the door and powered off. You sit, finish your homework and, when it’s satisfactorily completed, you play games in the yard or inside in the gym. Run them ragged. They’ll go home, have their dinner, and fall asleep right quick from all the exercise.

The costs? Well, stack up the cost of the afterschool program vs. the costs over a lifetime to society in terms of strain on the healthcare system. Do a cost-benefit analysis, run the numbers and see if it would pay off. I bet it would.

Kids like to play. Make it easy for them to do so.

 It’s worth a try.  And, after all, you gotta admit, Pesci’s Joey La Motta was kinda right: “You’re killing yourself the way you eat.  You fat fuck.  Look at you!!!”

So many musical greats have passed in recent months and, now today, Doc Watson, at 89.

All big names, all breakthrough artists.  Disco Donna.  Levon.  Duck Dunn.  Watson.  And more.

For Real New Yorkers, however, I present this sad news:

Buddy Saltzman is dead.

I didn’t know until last Saturday night.  Marshall Crenshaw, in his Bottomless Pit radio show on WFUV-FM, spread the word.  Full disclosure: when I heard the name — Buddy Who?  Saltzman? — it did not ring a bell.  Crenshaw explained.

And as he did, I realized how greatly Buddy had touched my life, informed my musical tastes, was an architect of much of my life’s interior soundtrack.

Buddy was New York and, specifically, Brill Building New York — that beehive of musical industry, right on Broadway.  He was a superlative drummer who was constantly in-demand and played in literally thousands of sessions from the 50s to the 70s.  He worked with Real New Yorkers such as Neil Diamond, Neil Sedaka, Laura Nyro, Leiber & Stoller, Goffin & King, Paul Simon — as well as with Phil Spector, Burt Bacharach, Dionne Warwick, the Shangra-Las, Bobby Darin, Dylan, the Coasters, the Shirelles, the Cyrkle, Connie Francis, the Monkees, Lou Christie, the Archies, Leslie Gore, Peter, Paul and Mary, the Cowsills, Little Eva…even BARBRA!…even FRANK!

But perhaps the sound that best exemplifies Buddy’s muscular, take-charge style was his drumming for The Four Seasons.  Play “Dawn (Go Away).”  Go ahead, I’ll wait. Click on the link here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bE40KM4SGAY.

He was a master of power and precision, with the around-the-kit rolls and the subtle ghost notes and right-on accents and those kick-ass triplets at the fade out of “Dawn.”

Think of “The Locomotion”…”I’m A Believer”…”Rag Doll”…”Lightnin’ Strikes” — even “The Sounds of Silence”…all number-one tunes.

All Buddy Saltzman, on the drums.  All part of our lives, made-in-New York.  By a Real New Yorker.
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And I’m thinking: this is a guy who worked two, three, four sessions a day, for five, six days a week, with the best of the best.  And he dies.  And no big obits.  No big noise.  Crickets.

But the thing is, he mattered. 

A lot.  He pushed the orbit of the earth, if only just a little bit.  Because whether we knew it or not, this professional musician touched us all, and lifted our lives.

On the website for Artie Kornfeld (one of the Woodstock Festival masterminds), Saltzman is quoted: “All I ever wanted to do is play drums and provide for my family.”

You did a bit more than that, Mr. Saltzman.  You made some of the best and enduring music of the 20th Century, and you influenced generations of musicians.

RIP, Buddy Saltzman, a Real New Yorker.

Cue the music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yi0CqIeLjkQ