Manhattan Project

Calendar on the Fritz-zzz (Because everything looks better with 3zs)

May 30, 2009
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It has been suggested that in my previous meegan bashing to Manhattan Project stockholders and slack jawed rabblerousers, published here last month, I failed to mention the sickmode permeating from our fair city’s bowels. So here, especially in light of shignella sickness suffered by one Mr. Fuckleberry Hound, are the list of other ailments we’ve acquired from non-Really Really Free Market sources (please give me a verbal fact checker lashing, Ben McGrath):

  • A general vomity feeling overtook both our bodies after we watched a Real Housewives of New York City marathon
  • Various stages of the croup.
  • Fuckleberry Hound was briefly hospitalized for shignella. (Rhymes with Anthony Minghella)

Ho ho, a real hornswagler, that list. In any event, you’re probably asking yerself, “self, where can I stir the sh-t with two sticks and a bag of sugar this weekend?” Glad you asked, my little crumpet.

The NYC Grassroots Media Conference will be held at Hunter College tomorrow starting at 10:30am. Of course, I don’t know a damn thing about it. Here’s a techy poster ripe with not-so-subtle inspirational metaphor: poster

Flopping around on the lineonium like a dying squid, traditional newspapers are so passe. Who cares  about professional journalists when you can read the ramblings of some random asshole on the Internet. I keed.

“In this moment of great opportunity and great challenge, the NYC Grassroots Media community asks: What role can the media play as a catalyst for social justice? How can we use the media tools at our disposal to turn HOPE for social justice into ACTION in our communities?” reads the official pub drub.

As Whoopi Goldberg said on The View earlier this week (yes, I know; it’s my only View reference this month), responsible citizens need truth tellers in the egalitarian media age. So thank your lucky stars for orgs like NYC Grassroots Media. They’re doing the work of Jesus. (And if you’re a true blooded ragamuffin, you can attend the conference for ten bones.) Slated to appear: The Bitch! Magazine-friendly anarcho-feminists of $pread Magazine, Democracy Now, Twitter activist Pollie Barden and a self described “Funky Brown Chick.” Click here for a complete schedule.

Fancy yerself a pleeb uprising? Well, look no further than the Bronx tomorrow at high noon. The Stella D’ Oro strikers are telling the corpo-fascists to shove their baked cookies where the sun don’t shine.

The Indypendent Newspaper, who will be appearing at NYC Grassroots Media conference, by the way, documented the Bronx bakery battle in their March issue:

The strike had been launched to protest, among other concessions, wage cuts of up to 26 percent demanded by Brynwood Partners, the private equity firm that purchased Stella D’oro from Kraft Foods, Inc. in 2006.

Declaring Brynwood’s terms unacceptable, the workers set up a 24-hour picket line outside the factory gates at 237th Street and Broadway that by their own account better resembled a neighborhood party than a scene of dissent.

Brynwood’s other proposals, which extended to the entire Stella D’oro workforce, included the elimination of overtime pay and all sick days, plus the loss of one week of vacation and four holiday days. Brynwood also wanted employees to pay for 20 percent of the cost of a company healthcare plan, whereas before the employees had paid nothing for health benefits.

But to get back to the DIY muzak. Todd P.’s Unamplified Acoustic Barbeque goes down June 14th at Fort Tilden Beach in Queens. I was in a very sarcastic/ironic/bitchy mood during my last Todd P. hootenanny, so I threw profanity laden epits in Mr. P’s direction, bless his heart. The New York Decider has 4 acts to catch.



An Open Letter to Freecycle™ NYC FreeMeet: please don’t give me the poops

May 6, 2009

I learned my lesson after last month’s Really Really Free Market at the Judson Memorial Church. Note to self: if it looks like fermented cow dung, but possesses the texture and twang of BBQ tofu, an animal probably died somewhere along the way.

In fairness to the RRFM, the tainted dish was properly flounced by a plastic wrapper which read, “party size mini-Meatballs.” Apparently, I can barely read at a fifth grade level, I’ll tell you whut.

Things are looking up for Freecycle™ NYC FreeMeet! in Flatbush, Brooklyn this weekend. I swear to Carl.

The FreeCycle NYC Web site provides a Craiglist-y hook-up for discarded tevees from the uppercrust richies and spotless exercise equipment that was probably plucked from Suzanne Somers’ Botoxed hands. Deets and RRFM party reels after the jump….

Freecycle™ NYC FreeMeet!

Saturday, May 9, 2009, 11am-3pm 
P.S. 217 Playground (1100 Newkirk Avenue at Coney Island Avenue) Flatbush, Brooklyn

WHY: New Yorkers discard some 12,000 tons of waste each day, much of which is exported to landfills and incinerators in other states. Here’s your chance to help reduce waste and keep our environment clean by finding new homes for your old stuff, and getting some things you can use in the process. Leftovers will be donated or recycled to every extent possible.

WHAT TO BRING: Bring unwanted clothing, housewares and other reusable items* to share or simply bring a tote bag to fill. Bring friends and family too!

Got wire hangers? Bring ’em to the FreeMeet so we can hang clothes and
recycle the hangers afterwards.


*please bring portable items only and log on to http://www.Freecycle. org to give away furniture and other heavy stuff.

And now, onto the highlights and lowlights of the Really Really Free Market.

Poopportunity Knocks More than Once:

This skankifed cesspool of globby meatballs was possibly extracted from the Trader Joe's dumpster near Union Square. The aftermath? An unfortunate case of Poops McGee, where I cursed my mother, father and meegans everywhere.

This skankifed cesspool of globby meatballs was possibly extracted from the Trader Joe's dumpster near Union Square. The aftermath? An unfortunate case of Poops McGee, from whence I cursed my mother, father and meegans everywhere.


Free shiz that did not make me contemplate Seppuku:


RRFM's accupuncturist whipped out her business card. I promptly misplaced said card seconds later. Citizen journalism fail.

RRFM's accupuncturist whipped out her contact information. I promptly misplaced said card seconds later. (Citizen journalism fail.) My pithy review: homegirl had the skills to pay various bills.

An assortment of breads.

This book made me have strange dreams about Bill Cosby and Jell-O pudding.

After thumbing through this book on the subway, I suffered strange afternoon nap dreams involving Bill Cosby and Jell-O pudding.