At a recent Mets game at Citifield, the Mets were trailing by a score of 5-4 in the ninth inning to their avowed enemies from “the city of Brotherly love,” Philadelphia. The crowd then got into the action. Forty thousand Mets fans, egged on by the visuals and sounds coming from the scoreboard starting chanting, “Let’s go Mets!”
In addition, as the rally increased, the fans got out of their seats simultaneously and continued their incantation of “Let’s go Mets.” The cheering got louder and the opposing pitchers seemed to be affected by the mob’s desires. When David Wright blooped a winning Texas Leaguer in front of the Phillies right fielder, the crowd went berserk. It was a true New York moment. It reminded me of the old Madison Square Garden throng’s reaction at a Knicks game in the early 1970s. I was proud to be a New Yorker and the trip home was delightful. The multitudes had “willed” the victory.
I am reaching out to you, County Executive Edward Mangano, to suggest that we come together in a bipartisan manner and remove youth and senior services - along with all critical human service programs on the chopping block - from our debate over borrowing.
It is not justifiable to the people of Nassau that somehow this particular 0.15 percent of the 2012 budget has become mixed up with the fact that you want to borrow the better part of a billion dollars. The budget lines for the human services you are cutting have nothing to do with your borrowing.
This article is not about the world famous Broadway in Manhattan. It concerns the Broadway that runs through Syosset, Jericho and Hicksville. Some people call it Route 106 and 107.
As a resident of Hicksville-Westbury and then Jericho over the last 48 years, I feel qualified to speak about this Broadway phenomenon.
Warblers, tiny migrants, are flying across the path but quickly disappear. My wife spots one in a tall bush. Another woman also has her binoculars on it but I can’t locate the bird. After it flies, my wife tells me the little bird was black and white with a yellow head. The woman identifies it as a chestnut-sided warbler. It’s uncommon here, the first migrant of the morning and I missed it!
“A grasshopper walks into a bar and orders a drink. The bartender looks at him and says “You know we have a drink named after you.” The grasshopper replies, “You have a drink named Stanley?”
That is the kind of humor you will be subjected to in the new show on West 43rd Street between 9th and 10th Avenues. Old Jews Telling Jokes is the name of the hilarious production.
High school graduation is upon us, which means this would be a good time to tell the current graduates everything I wish someone had told me at the time. However, I’m not sure if the things I would like to be able to tell my younger self— like “Don’t attempt to go to school anywhere where an average snowdrift in November comes up to your face,” and “The people who told you that you could create your own major with ease were dead wrong,”— would be of much use to anyone else.
Instead, this time of year leads me to contemplate an interesting puzzle, something I didn’t understand at the time I went to college at all but find endlessly fascinating now. Basically, you go to college to start achieving your dreams, but if you actually succeed in that goal, you might be doing something wrong: college is supposed to change you. If you go through the kind of intellectual growth that college really should provoke, the dreams you had when you were 18 will likely not be the same dreams the new and hopefully improved, 22-plus version of yourself treasures.
I have long been a fan of British humor. I eagerly awaited each Sunday for Channel 135 episodes of Monty Python. John Cleese always had me laughing with his crazy schtick. They were a purely English group with slapstick routines.
I also was an admirer of Benny Hill. His bawdy double-entendres and outright sexual themes were hilarious. Terry Thomas, with his gapped central incisors was another of my favorites. Carry On Nurse captured British humor in all of its subtle irony. Don’t forget Alec Guinness as the many-roled victim in Kind Hearts and Coronets, a masterpiece.
There’s a show on the Food Network where pastry chefs compete for the title of “Sweet Genius.” Sweet Genius, hosted by cake maestro Ron Ben-Israel, challenges the chefs to make desserts with unusual ingredients like cactus, aloe vera, hot sauce and even baby formula. Nine times out of ten, the chefs try to hide the weird ingredients in some kind of batter or frosting, thinking they’ve beat the system, only to be devastated when Chef Ron says—with absolute, deadly seriousness—“I can’t taste the cactus in your cake….”
It’s incredibly silly and maybe even stupid, but I’m hooked: I love the show, and I even love watching Chef Ron stretch the concept of campiness to previously unheard of levels. It wasn’t always thus.
As your birthdays come at you with greater regularity, you (or at least I) become a little depressed. It is nothing serious or life threatening, but it leaves a mark on you.
I first noticed it while getting in and out of a car. I used to spring in and out like a jack-in-the-box and go about my business swimmingly. Now I feel like a salted pretzel that is being unwound.
Just a few weeks ago, I wrote in this space that the Syosset School District should change its Audience To The Public policy so that residents can ask questions at meetings without being limited to the items on the evening’s agenda. At the Monday, June 4 meeting, they announced that they had done just that.
I actually found out about this rather late last week, hence I didn’t get to write an editorial about it for our June 8 edition. However, belated or not, I would like to thank the district for making this change for the better. This is a huge step in the right direction.
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