Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman

Given my relentless campaign to promote “the Q” (that’s the totally rad nickname that all the hipsters will soon be calling my neighborhood, Kew Gardens), I was delighted to find that Hollywood produces blocked off much of the intersection of Austin St. and Lefferts Blvd. this past weekend to shoot scenes for Spiderman 3 (there’s already a teaser trailer, even though the movie won’t be out until next summer).

Hopefully, Spidey will swing past the Kew Gardens Cinema slowly enough for viewers to admire the fine selection of independent and art house flicks being offered, grab a knosh from Baker’s Dozen (which Alan Amalgamated promotes as “Scrumptious Bagels” – oh, yeah, he’s on “the Q” team!) and land for a slice at Dani’s House of Pizza. That way, next summer, throngs of movie fans will swarm to “the Q,” and raise the property value of my own real estate empire. Muahahaha!

At the very least, the movie will be a slightly less unsavory claim to fame for Austin and Lefferts than being the spot where Kitty Genovese was murdered.

Goal.

I was at the H Mart buying creatures of the deep for a Fathers Day meal when I was startled by the sudden roar of cheers and a polite, but enthusiastic, burst of applause. The Japanese and Korean checkers and baggers were gathered around a teevee that had a terrible reception of Telemundo. Korea had just scored against France to tie the match. Oh, that’s right. The rest of the world is intensely focused on the World Cup these days. The native lawnguylanders scowled at all the fuss and went back to their shopping routines.

I’m jealous of all the fuss and wish I could really get into soccer – er, futbol – the way hundreds of millions do. Aside from the occasional rioting and hooliganism, it does seem a wonderful bit of global togetherness. Back at the university – itself, a model United Nations – the student activities center has been a ghost town while all the international students hunker down in the basement to catch broadcasts from across the pond. Meanwhile, I was out in the cold at the happy hour in one of the labs as my friend, the Ukrainian scientist who’s an unapologetic union supporter, chatted with the skittish Chilean tech who’s got Visa worries about…some team or match or other. They really were in their own world when having that conversation, so I wandered down a little further to try to chat with the Argentinean scientist who refuses to talk to me. A friendly, casual, non-union ice breaker chat is just what the PhD ordered. A grad student mentioned Argentina’s team and she beamed with pride, “Aren’t they wonderful?” If only I caught a match, or had a clue.

At least America is apparently losing. The last thing we need, really, is to win at the sport that the entire world is bonkers about, but that we could give two shits about if we even bother to call it by its proper name.

Jim Hurd, 1955-2006

It is a special peculiarity of our time that it is possible write an obituary for a friend that you have never met. I think I first heard about Jim Hurd, the Hoosier Socialist, from Jen Ray bitching about him (Hell, she bitched about everyone, so why not him?) ten years ago. Jim was a gadfly on the Socialists Unmoderated mailing list and a member of the Socialist Party. Jim quit the party over some stupid sectarian pronouncement of our National Committee and joined the CP, and he advanced – along with the internets – from listserves to blogs. He was an occasional commentator on this blarg (his most recent comment a quip in response to my “Being “Wrong” in the Socialist Party” piece that referenced Mark 6:4), and a gadfly blogger in his own right.

It’s a punch in the stomach to read that Jim Hurd died a week and a half ago after a long struggle with depression and alcoholism. With our tiny band of reds spread far and wide, it’s not unusual to meet a comrade through the internets. Eventually, you’ll meet at a conference or a rally. I never met Jim, though, even though he repeatedly reached out to me through e-mail and this website. And for that, I am truly sorry.

There will be a memorial for Jim at Trinity Episcopal Church in Bloomington, IN on Saturday, June 10th.

Worst. Park Name. Ever.

The charming statue of an befuddled capitalist foot soldier, who had gone missing like so many other men in ties with attache cases after 9/11, has returned to the former Liberty Plaza around the corner from Ground Zero. The park is now named after one John E. Zuccotti.

Who the fuck is John E. Zuccotti, you ask? Is he a fireman who died that day, or perhaps a waiter at Windows on the World or a stockbroker at Cantor Fitzgerald? The classic comedic duo George Pataki and Dan Doctoroff revealed all in a high-larry-us send-up of award ceremonies at yesterday’s unveiling:

“In the category of New Name for a Refurbished, 26-Year-Old Park,” Mr. Doctoroff began, “the winner is – ”

” – the winner is,” Mr. Pataki continued, “the chairman of Brookfield Properties, the chairman of the Real Estate Board of New York, the former first deputy mayor of the City of New York, former chairman of the City Planning Commission, and one of New York’s finest citizens: John Zuccotti. This is Zuccotti Park, from this day forward.”

Oh. That John E. Zuccotti. It’s funny that while every other street, park or airport is being renamed “Liberty” or after some fallen hero, this park – so near the site of that five-year-old tragedy – is having “Liberty” stripped from its name in order to salute a real estate tycoon. Well, it is an accurate statement of our values in this post-9/11 age.

Of course, this was easier to do because Liberty Plaza was not a public park, but was instead “privately owned public space” – a concession granted to the public by real estate developers in exchange for the ability to exceed zoning and add even more lucrative floors to a skyscraper. This public space – open air plazas, gardens and parks and enclosed arcades – is meant to provide space for anyone to sit, relax, meet, eat or take shelter from the elements in a congested city.

However, while those extra half million square feet of rentable office space will provide real estate developers with revenue for generations, the public space that was granted in exchange is constantly under threat of privatization. The arcade in Sony building has had much of its space claimed as a dining area for one of the restaurants that leases from the landlord (so if you want to sit there now you must buy an overpriced martini). Citibank has tried to decorate the public area of the Citigroup Center with an “art” installation of red umbrellas – its corporate logo. And now Liberty Plaza has been renamed for the Chairman of the corporation that owns it.

I’ve got a new name for it: Corporate Pinhead Park.