Strange Gildings

This morning, Union Square has been turned into some kind of rodeo arena, complete with real hay, and real defecating horses, and huge long trailers shaped like space-cigars. Women's Entertainment seemed to be in some way involved. Must say, though, that clambering around steaming piles of horse manure was the least we needed after the subway fire this morning that turned the Seventh Avenue subway station into the Fall of Saigon. For the sake of accuracy, we must stress that it was the 2,3,4, and 5 lines that were interrupted. The Q train was just flooded with pitiful refugees.

We must, as ever, thank NY1 for the heads-up, as well as for springing for a new wardrobe for Dalton Ross, who has gone from being dressed like one of the pool-players at Alibi, to being got up like his namesake, top limey film reviewer and Russ Meyer fan Jonathan Ross. Sparkly.

Read in this month's New York magazine about the dark contradiction at the heart of the Cablevision cable TV empire, in the form of the father-son Dolan team. Do we think that the article made us understand why they oppose the stadium? No, it made us more than a little angry that a spoiled brat, an ex-substance abuser that uses musicians that work for his entertainment venues to be his own backing band, who is in the habit of throwing tantrums at management, could have been the recipient of our monthly cable check for the 12 months we lived in Prospect Heights. The fact that the real suckers are the good people of Greenwich and the tonier parts of Long Island that lie under the thumb of Cablevision, and pay for the extras (we didn't) is of little comfort.

Plus, if you can still read it, the Times piece about limeys that live in Park Slope is obviously required reading. Here's the choice quote:

Instead, Brits here, who are drawn by love as much as work - many have American spouses - want that oldest immigrant dream of all, to assimilate, raise their children as Americans, and lead the quiet life.

That and the fact that your British multinational these days offers too little money to its peons for them live anywhere but a cupboard in the East Village, or over the bridge. We love Brooklyn, and contrary to the Times' whimsy-peddler Ben Gibberd, have frequently, and messily, rocked out without going anywhere near the Manhattan Bridge. True about the Cutesome angle, though. The Dean of Limeyblogging has spoken.