The End Is Here

There are many reasons I think New York City as we know (or have known) it is over (and yes, I realize this is by no means an original insight). But perhaps nothing sums it up better than the fact that right now, as I type this, some douche is parked in front of my apartment building cranking a song by the "rock band" Train at full volume, sending it echoing throughout my neighborhood. Fuck him for doing so and, furthermore, fuck me for being able to accurately identify a Train song. The question is "What do we do now?" What if we each agreed to send a garbage can crashing through the front window of the next La Pain Quotidien we pass? Or we each make a point of tripping a fratboy in the East Village or punching some douche in the crotch over in the Meatpacking District at least once a week? At least it would be a start. Remember Whoville. We can do it.

Dave Hill