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When I was a little boy, my Ryan grandfather and I sat on his long York Avenue stoop and read The New York Daily News together. If he was feeling good, Pop would spring for a dime and I would run up to the newsstand on 86th Street and buy two newspapers, one for each… Read more »

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There is a cartoon quality to the relationship between New Yorkers and tourists, a Road Runner and Wylie Coyote tug-of-war that causes steam to pour from locals’ ears and visitors to run screeching over cliffs.  It is an exaggerated, farcical, co-dependent relationship, and one that was flamed this week by Travel & Leisure magazine’s annual “America’s Favorite… Read more »

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Oh the joys of being single!  The crazy nights out, the boys flocking to you and throwing themselves at your feet, the endless evenings devoted to eating string cheese and sweet potatoes in your underwear while watching episodes of The View on your DVR. (Did you see Whoopi’s shoes Friday? Amazing.) Last night, for the first… Read more »

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These are unnatural times. Part of this is the fact that the natural human instinct toward wisdom, which has been guiding us since the relighting of the Dark Ages, is now being constantly blocked and thwarted by corporate efficiency (a.k.a. greed), political correctness, and assertions of spirituality (or, as they say where I come from… Read more »

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When I’m alone in the water, I have plenty of time to talk to my-self.  Today I’m rapt in reverent silence as I excite the fact I am the grandson of persons who did not graduate high school. I call their names: Elsie, Willie Louis, Tissie, Bud, Mae and lament their absence from where I fondly recall them being.  Their… Read more »

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Because of my job, people tend to send me a lot of links to Sex and the City-related tidbits, and recently there’s been a flurry of press regarding The Carrie Diaries, the supposed SATC prequel that may run on the CW.  I have no attachment to such a prequel; due to my utter disgust with… Read more »

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Carrubea Festival happens every Thursday in the commercial section of San Nicolaas, Aruba.   These days bring brass bands and liqueurs from Surinam, singers and cocaine from Venezuela, dancers and costumes from Curacao and the only occasions I’ve had to meet the friend, a man, I internally refer to as Rat Row.  I estimate his years… Read more »

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You’d think I have an ownership stake in the New York Giants based on the joy and affection I derive from and convey for the team. I love playing catch with a football, and miss playing tackle football every day but I have a more complex role as a devoted parishioner in the Church of Mara. I stunk… Read more »