Monday, October 12, 2009

Quit Yer Bitchin'

A while back I mentioned that I was enjoying the blog stuy town's Lux Living. To refresh your memory of what it's all about, here's the summary quote taken from the bottom footer of the blog:

Stuyvesant Town offers one, two, three, and five bedroom, luxury rental residences and college dorm rooms in the heart of downtown Manhattan. Set within a poorly landscaped 80-acre park, the spacious apartments often suffer utility outages, brown water, and deadly mold outbreaks. “Amenities” include a gym, resident’s lounge, kid’s playroom, screening room and study for a one-time fee of $250 and a monthly charge of $25, with additional fees for gym use. On-site parking, easy access to mass transportation on one side of the complex, and 24-hour on-site security that rarely respond when called. Situated near nicer neighborhoods like Gramercy Park, the Flat Iron District, Union Square and right next door to an unstable Con Edison power plant, Stuytown gives you more reason to loathe your space. Come see for yourself!

I found the blog amusing in a sort of David Vs. Goliath way, as Tishman-Speyer is one of the largest real estate companies in Manhattan. Being a bit of a rabble-rouser myself, I enjoyed reading some of the rants about the bureaucracies, security problems and inevitable change that comes with new ownership.

But lately I've been getting more and more sick of reading a blog that could just be called New Yorkers Against Everything, as the site has devolved into rants against children, bikers, dogs, security, college kids, people that walk on grass, people that smoke grass, college kids with dogs, recycling, security on bikes and anything else that you can bitch and complain about. To wit:

(from a parent too lazy and stupid to stop his/her child from running eyeball first into a sign)-I have an almost 2 year old son who loves to run around. Some genius at Tishman decided to put all around PCV metal signs that say not to allow dogs on the grass. But, the metal signs are the PERFECT height for kids to run into AND they are so sharp all around the sides they will cause injuries. My son has already run into one and discovered the nice shiny long sharp screws sticking out of the back as well.

(from a concerned adult plagued by worries about the deadly carbon emissions of golf carts)-My favorite will always be the post-911 (cough!) maintenance buggies driving on the sidewalks blowing diesel fumes into the faces of little kids, some already asthmatic, on their way to PS40 elementary school.

(From "her", and she hates dogs and ugly grass)
-However having a dog run would be terrible for the people who live over it. I face the oval and am sick and tired of the howling and barking especially when the noise wakes me up at 6am the noise really echos.
Every day I see disrespectful dog owners letting their animals deficate (sic) on the lawn, sidewalks and dog off leashes. I have been her (sic) 60 yrs. and
long for the days when rules were for everyone, the grass was beautiful,
I did not have to look down when I walked and I could enjoy a decent
nights rest without the howling. To all the dog owners who disrespect your neighbors and the property, and you know who you are, your animal does not have more rights than your fellow residence (sic). So get
your acts together and follow the rule.

(Someone complains to security about broken glass in the playground. Isn't that maintenance?)-A resident called security when he first arrived at the playground this morning but there was no answer. The resident then went to a nearby building to use the lobby intercom to try and contact security. When security finally picked up they told the resident they put out a call to have it cleaned up a while ago but would put in another call. When the dangerous glass still wasn't picked up an hour later, the tenant placed a third call to security who snapped "I just got the call" and hung up. Two hours after that call the above photo was taken of the glass which had yet to be picked up. (How about you stop wasting half the day making calls on your rotary phone, turn off your Amos & Andy radio program and sweep up the fucking glass if you are so worried?)

(Get off my lawn!)-You obviously remember what this place was like before the onslaught of 'quality of life crimes' were inflicted on the pioneer residents (I'm sure I'm gonna take flak for that comment...). Grass was for looking at, not walking on. If there was a fire, the fire department was called (a spatula was not involved). And security guards rode around in Cushman carts--if they were lucky. The landscaping was remarkable instead of gaudy.

(No biking, no scooters, no fun of any kind. And stop all that infernal laughing!)-And why is there a ban on bike riding but not scooters? Have you seen some of those children? They barrel though the oval in packs like bats out of hell with little or no disregard to the people and pets around them. Twice this week I have seen kids once knocking into an elderly lady and on a different occasion nearly hitting a small dog that was on a leash walking very close to its owner. Meanwhile the parents are too involved in their gabfests to pay any attention to their kids getting screamed at by people they hit.

(I'm not kidding, this is because there was a streak of soapy water on the floor
-"WTF? At about 12:30am I come home and look what I find, some dumb ass college kid dragged his SOAPY LAUNDRY through my T level lobby."

I think that last "my T level lobby" just about sums it up. Some of these people were born and raised in Stuy Town, and some of them have a really overdeveloped sense of entitlement, particularly since they are only renting, albeit many of them are paying prices nobody has seen since the 1950-60's. They have dug their heels in and are fighting tooth and nail any and all changes that would upset their perfect little insular community. Well surprise folks, time marches on whether you choose to participate and/or acknowledge it or not, and unless you all decide to quit your incessant bitching and moaning and carrying on long enough to band together and somehow buy a stake in this development that would give you some kind of representation, you run the risk of being branded a bunch of stupid, set-in-your ways angry cranks. In which case the rest of the complex will likely wait until you die off and stand around watching as they wheel your tiny little gray rigor-mortis clenched body out of your apartment, all while they are waiting to pick over the remains of whatever possessions your surviving family decides to leave out at the curb. Whether or not it's a designated recycle day.

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