This is on 3rd Ave — somewhere in the low 80s, I think.
Phrenology is the next block down.
My company is doing some renovations to its offices and I am temporarily sitting on the 35th floor. What amazes is me is that even this high up car horns and ambulance sirens are loud enough to be annoying.
I have no idea whether this dude is liberal or conservative, but I read his slogan and totally think Minority Report.
Corporate bullshit wins again!
(To be read with about 50% irony, 40% awareness that there is, in fact, a lot of corporate bullshit in the world, and 10% inexplicable sadness to see this painted over — a privilege denied to those of you on Facebook, who are not able to see the second photograph, taken about 6 months after the first one, in which most of the words have been painted over)
Are there frozen vegetables with a cult following, I wonder? On the one hand, it’s hard to imagine why else you’d advertise them on the side of your awning. On the other, even the tantalizing possibility that there might be hasn’t gotten me inside the store to investigate.
Late summer evening in midtown. I pulled out my camera phone because I thought the crescent moon right next to the Empire State Building was cheesy/cool.
“Rhianna come look! This chick has Burberry nails! Damn, that shit is gangsta!”
—Hispanic girl to her friend, about the fingernails of an embarrassed-looking Asian girl, last night on the R train.
I’m guessing that the the SC on the breast of the chicken pictured here stands for “super chicken.” And that’s cool. I like him! I certainly don’t want to eat him! But I like him!
Or maybe it’s that the name of the actual business? The name that has three of the four syllables of the very last word you want to be thinking about when you eat chicken? Seems like an odd oversight for a dude in the chicken business.
