Marcel Duchamp is smiling

Parking accident or impromptu street sculpture?

Radical Trinidadians?

NY1 is all abuzz this afternoon as I struggle into consciousness with the story of a foiled plot to blow up a fuel pipeline at JFK:

Three people have been arrested and one other is being sought in a plot to blow up John F. Kennedy International Airport.

Law enforcement officials said Saturday at a press conference in Lower Manhattan that the plot, which never got passed the planning stage, involved a plan to set off explosives in a jet fuel pipeline that feeds through the airport and runs through residential neighborhoods.

According to a law enforcement source, the 40-mile pipeline brings aviation fuel from a facility in Linden, New Jersey, through Staten Island, Brooklyn, and Queens to the airport.

Now, the story's developing, as they say, but one of NY1's soundbites as I listened was "radical Trinidadian groups". What is a radical Trinidadian group? One which passes the Dutchie on the right hand side?

Thanks. I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitstaff.

I am enough of a former car nut

To recognize a Volkswagen with an Italian accent:



In a similar vein, one of the wildest rides I've ever been on was being in the backseat of a Citroen 2CV, driven by a crazy Belgian, as it stormed along "roads" through fields near Brussels. The "roads", hard packed dirt and usually driven on by tractors, have been in use for years, so much so that the fields around them have slowly grown until they're higher than the "roads". Imagine a flat, dirt bobsled course and you have the idea. I don't think we got over 50 miles an hour, but it felt like three hundred. . .

Bright Pretty Things

Although the gig I'm on seems increasingly pointless and frustrating, there are some nice things about being in Midtown at three in the morning. Things are all lit up and pretty:

I also found my first Taxi Master yesterday. Caught a cab home at zero dark thirty and went from 49th and Sixth all the way downtown to my house without hitting a single spotlight. It was a little bit of Manhattan satori.

Today's installment of It's a Small and Increasingly Funny World

The Syrian guy who works in the health food store across the street from me answering his cel phone with, "how you, playa?"

Amish graffiti?

Found in the 14th Street F/V. This is new. And weird.

Reality? Wazzat?

It's getting to where I can't tell the war footage from video games. I swear, while I was watching this, the part of my brain which likes blinking lights and blowing things up was wondering whether my computer had the horsepower to play this game.

(I also like how the people in the video are labeled "terrorists", despite the fact they're Iraqis fighting in their home country.)