Wait, what?

You’re sure it’s my hand you want me to put in there? Just checking.

The Observer is slipping…

I'm thinking filthy things about the eponymous.

 …because here he has an image of a grown man dressed as a beaver watching teenage girls in short shorts – and he cannot come up with a single decent joke involving the word “wood”.

And by the way this was shot in Hell’s Kitchen. That’s kinda funny. A little. It’s a stretch. OK, it sucked. Look, it can’t all be comedy gold. Get off my back.

What every girl needs.

Relevant? How? Trusted? By millions, yes. Clear? How is it freaking clear that anyone would ever need or want this?

This item was suggested by the marketing geniuses at Duane Reed as a handy last minute stocking stuffer. The Observer wonders exactly where and when a bright pink camoflage bible might come in handy. There is but a singular conclusion: when you need the solace of the Lord’s Word while you’re deer hunting inside a giant vagina.

…but I was resurrected 3 days later. As mulch.

Save a tree! Convert to Judaism.

Some cheeky provacateur (and most likely a filthy atheist!) has been tagging the discarded Christmas trees in an undisclosed neighboorhood that contains The Observer’s lair with a message that inspires consideration of our brothers of the flora. The Observer has also witnessed individuals (and most likely filthy Christians!) removing these tags. This battle has been played out for several days. By committing this image to the posterity of the interwebs is The Observer picking sides? Bet your sweet bippie he is.

And this leads The Observer to a historical factoid. The first Christmas tree market was opened in New York in 1851 in Washington Market on Greenwich Street by Catskill woodsman Mark Carr to cater to the pagan floral worship of the many German immigrants of old Gotham.

The Observer’s gonna do it…

Dog imitates rabbit, or, life imitates art.

…He’s just itching to do it. The Observer is so close to doing it. It’s on the cusp. Get ready. Here it comes…….

AWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

The Mantalist?

Terror on the park.

The mothership of tacky.

The Observer has always wanted to know what this abomination of architecture is doing in Flushing Meadows Park. It looks like a War of the Worlds mechanical robot mated with a suburban office park.

A simple web search reveals that this monstrosity of Soviet era exteriors is in fact the world’s cheeziest place for the bridge and tunnel set to get hitched with over the top Louis the XIVth interiors. Grotesque in two completely different ways inside and out.

http://www.terraceonthepark.com/

Inequitably humongous.

The Observer has often wondered why many buildings in Manhattan have a ziggurat (step pyramid) configuration on the upper floors. Considering the expense of real estate in Gotham one would assume you’d build as straight and efficiently as possible. Aim for the stars, touch the sky, take the rent, reap the riches.

The answer lies in the Equitable building.

Upon its completion in 1915 the Equitable was the largest building in the world in terms of floor space. It rose almost 600 feet above Broadway and cast a shadow of over 7 acres. It’s immensity caused Gothamites pause. Worried that more buildings like it would result in a dark cave-like existance at street level the 1916 zoning resolution was passed. This law required that buildings of a certain height have set backs. Based on a mathmatical formula a building must either move back from the sidewalk (like the towers on 6th avenue around Rockerfeller Center) or have a retracement on the upper floors allowing for light and air to mingle with the buzzing masses below.

Ziggurat expained.

Crushing commute.

The Observer wonders why the MTA wishes to make the slog to work in the grim confines of the Times Square tunnel all the more disheartening with this installation. Did they take down the “KILL YOURSELF” chapter to this sad story?

Inspector Clouseau shopped here….

One of these things is not like the other....

The Observer is thinking about going clubbing tonight. While The Observer’s date will be decked out in body sparkle, 4 inch heels and a silver Cher wig The Observer will be rocking his own unique look: Leon Trotsky as 70′s porn star.