Self-Aggrandizement: Troublemaking Archives

Blame Our Mummy
Filed November 20, 2006 10:48 AM.

What happens when my brother and I are left with an hour free and several leftover rolls of toilet paper deemed insufficiently soft for actual wiping use:

Dry Humor
Filed July 27, 2006 6:34 PM.

Continuing the 'social experimentation' fun, as of this morning, I've started writing messages backwards on my large apartment windows with a dry-erase marker, curious to see if they generate a response from the lawyers (for whom it should read forward) in the skyscraper across the street.

First up:

"For a good time call [my brother's cell number]"

Though he's out of town for the weekend, I suspect I should nonetheless hear back from him rather quickly if this works.

Dick Move
Filed July 26, 2006 6:01 PM.

1. Sit at the bar.

2. Look for a table full of women.

3. Get the bartender to fill a bunch of highball glasses with ice water, garnishing each with a piece of fruit.

4. Get a waitress to bring the garnished ice water to the table of women; have her tell them that the the drinks are "compliments of the man at the bar."

5. Graciously acknowledge with a small wave and nod.

6. Wait for them to realize you've sent them water; let the hilarity ensue.

All Your Women are Belong to Me
Filed April 4, 2006 11:26 AM.

I have, since its inception, heartily resisted joining MySpace, in large part because I liked it better back in 1997, when it was still called GeoCities.

Still, there's something vaguely impressive about MySpace's neo-Luddite approach, its bravery in re-championing the blink tag and eye-searingly fluorescent background art that completely obscures actual text.

Recently, an increasing number of filmmakers have been asking if and how MySpace fits into Cyan's movie marketing plans. So, thinking there might be use in having a presence on the site myself, a few days back, I took the plunge and joined.

Initially, I intended to copy my profile directly from Friendster. But, as it was late at night, it seemed far funnier to forego any charm, and simply paint myself as the sort of misanthrope that, honestly, I usually am.

For my 'about me' section, I put up this:

I'm an obnoxious asshole. I like to play the push-your-buttons game, I derive joy from being difficult, and I like laughing at the expense of stupid people.

Sometimes, people assume that, below the selfish jerk shell, I'm really a good guy. But, in fact, I'm like an asshole onion: peel away the outer layer and all you have is more asshole.

Then, for 'who I'd like to meet':

Anyone who thinks they can hold my interest and keep up with my smartass attitude.

My standards are high. In fact, I probably won't even email you back unless you say something wildly entertaining or intriguing. Yes, that includes you.

All of which, I figured, would put a pre-emptive kibosh on any MySpace socializing.

Apparently, no.

It seems, instead, that the profile is just obnoxious enough to trigger women's love of challenge, their desire to find guys as diamonds in the rough that they alone can hone into something more broadly recognized as precious gem.

In the past few days, I've received more than a handful of emails from women - and, disproportionately so, from rather attractive ones - basically trying to figure out if I'm actually that obnoxious in real life.

So, lest any such women back-research their way to this site, wondering whether my attitude is simply some recent invention, I point to a post from almost precisely a year back, which I will here reprint in its entirety.

FAQ
Filed April 14, 2005 in Disclosures.

In response to the emailed question I most frequently receive:

Q. Are you really this much of a pretentious asshole in real life?

A. Pretty much.

At least I'm consistent.

Feeble Fools
Filed April 2, 2006 3:57 PM.

Yes, I know, it wasn't up to my usual high pranking standards. But, drunk on Friday evening, it was all I had patience for.

For those who missed it, yesterday's temporary 404 error page: "The page cannot be displayed - please click harder."

Pity the Fu
Filed March 21, 2006 1:58 PM.

While I'd contemplated doing it at Sundance, only to be talked out of the idea by Scott and Rob, it wasn't until this morning that I whipped out a razor and took the plunge.

I now sport a - still somewhat scruffy, though evidencing limitless potential - Fu Manchu.

My brother has pointed out that it makes me look either Australian, or like the world's preppiest Hell's Angel.

Either way, I can't lose.

Guy Get-Ups
Filed October 20, 2005 11:51 AM.

With Halloween just around the corner, my brother helpfully shared three costume ideas for creatively challenged yet lecherous and politically incorrect male youths (i.e. his Fraternity brothers); I present them for anyone who doesn't similarly live in Denver, and can therefore shamelessly rip off his suggestions:

Plastic Surgeon: Buy, borrow or steal a set of medical scrubs. Scrawl 'free breast exams' on a piece of cardboard.
God's Gift to Women: wrap a bow and ribbon around your neck.
Proselytizing Mormon: Dress in a dark suit, white shirt and conservative tie. Buy a copy of the Book of Mormon. Knock on people's doors, but instead of saying 'trick or treat', ask if they'd have time to talk about a 'book that's really changed your life'.

Blimp Pilots
Filed June 27, 2005 12:49 PM.

I spent most of last week with Rob Barnum, a new hire who'll be managing the West Coast office of Cyan Pictures + Long Tail Releasing, who was in town to get up to speed on both companies. While still in college, Rob served as an exec at EscapeHomes, helping to take the company through several large venture capital rounds and a recent merger. He then started a production company to escape from the world of tech and into the world of film. Plus, he screenwrites, and blogs, and drinks heavily.

So, in short, I hired him because, in true narcissistic style, I like people like myself.

It wasn't until Friday night, however, that I realized how dangerous having both of us in the same room would be. Because Friday night, we headed down to the West Village, hit the first crowded bar off the subway steps, and decided it was imperative that we spend the evening picking up random women.

Now, picking up women in bars is a chump's game. It puts you into competition with every single other guy in the bar. Worse, it puts you on par with every single other guy in the bar, makes you the sketchy sort of guy who spends Friday night hitting on random women.

Sure, the girls are ostensibly there because they want the attention, having layered on makeup and cocktail dresses. But, deep down, every girl would much rather date a guy she'd met at the park or through a friend or in the yogurt aisle of the supermarket. The Fat Black Pussycat just lacks tell-your-grandkids-about-how-you-met charm.

So, if you're looking to meet women at a bar, the main thing is to not be like all of the other sketchy guys surrounding you. You've got to be different, in a good way. You've got to think outside the booty box.

Rum and Coke's in hand, Rob and I sat down at the first bar to discuss that conundrum, and to scope out the options. To our immediate right was a group of three girls, sitting together, dutifully brushing off a chain of successive hopefuls coming over with their smoothest entrances. They seemed as good a choice as anyone else.

Before I had the chance to reason my way out of it, I excused myself from Rob and headed over. "I'm sorry to interrupt," I said, receiving icy stares. "But I was wondering which you think are cooler: blimps or hot-air balloons."

"What?", one of them asked.

"Blimps or hot air balloons - which is cooler. You." I pointed to the one in the middle.

"Blimps, I guess," she said, slightly confused. I got another blimp vote, then one for hot-air balloons.

"Thanks," I said. "That's all I needed." I walked back to Rob, sat down, and checked my watch.

Thirty-four seconds later, the most intrepid of the three walked over.

"Now we're curious," she said. "Why did you want to know that?"

"It's not that important," I replied, and went back to talking with Rob.

"You can't just ask us that," she continued. "You have to tell me why you wanted to know."

"Well," I started, then looked to Rob, who nodded approval. "We're going to be racing from New York to Chicago. Either in blimps or hot air balloons, and we wanted to see if one was cooler than the other."

"Racing to Chicago?" the girl asked, dubious.

"Well," Rob jumped in. "My grandfather passed away recently, and gave me an old hot-air balloon in his will. I was thinking about repairing it, and then I thought, if Josh buys one too, we could race."

"Right," I continued. "But I figured Rob could probably get some trade-in value on the balloon if we wanted to switch to blimps and race those instead."

Rob and I nodded nonchalantly, like that pretty much summed it all up.

"You have to come with me to tell that to my friends," the girl said. We were in.

Over the course of the evening, at several bars and with several groups of women, we worked our way through variations on the theme. Perhaps Rob was going to be in a hot-air balloon and I'd be in a blimp, and did they think that would put one of us at a disadvantage? Or, we had already bought the blimps, but we were in town to see if Blimpie would be a corporate sponsor of our race.

While we'd come in totally deadpan, we tried to slowly edge the story over the top, to let the girls in on it. The good ones got it, and played along, happy to be inside a shared joke. The slower ones never seemed to catch on, but remained credulous and interested.

Either way, after a while, we'd excuse ourselves, bow off invitations to join them at subsequent bars, decline phone numbers. We weren't really there to pick up women. We just wanted the thrill of the chase.

Which, I would guess, is almost as exciting as racing hot-air balloons.

IOU
Filed April 1, 2005 5:32 PM.

One thing I've learned through years of full-contact martial arts is, the best time to punch somebody in the face is when they aren't expecting to get punched in the face.

Which, in short, is the problem with April Fool's Day. Because people have their guards up, April Fool's pranks almost never actually 'fool' anybody. And, as a result, most trouble-makers have stopped even really trying, allowing their attempts to veer out of the realm of true pranking, and into the world of satire.

Granted, there's an excellent array of such April Fool's Day 2005 satire currently floating the Internets. And, granted, in year's past, I've pepetrated such digital shenanigans myself. But, this year, I'm not pulling anything today. Honest.

I am, however, throwing down an April Fool's I.O.U.: an obligation to pull a prank, a real prank, later this month. Though the one I have in mind will take place in the real world, over the course of several weeks, I promise I'll journal it all up online as soon as it's done. And I promise it'll be way better than whatever one-page wonder I might have otherwise made out of s-a.com.

This will be good. No fooling.

easy fun
Filed February 16, 2005 6:58 PM.

Don vaguely futuristic apparel. Then, on a crowded street, run up to someone and shout, "What's the date today?! Quickly, tell me!"

When they respond, shout, "What YEAR, man, what YEAR is this?!"

When they respond again, shout, "Noooo!! They've sent me back too far!" and sprint away, clutching your head in your hands.

gotham high class of '96 - part 4
Filed November 16, 2004 6:38 PM.

Even the interminable stretch of high school one day comes to an end; consider this the graduation post, then, before I go back to blogging as usual.

Becky Wong

Activities: Orchestra (Cello, 1st Chair); Math Team - Mu Alpha Theta (Award Recipient At State Competition); National Merit Scholar; Korean Club; Jason Priestly Fan Club (Vice President)

Next Year Will Be: Attending Juilliard while taking classes at Columbia Med School, in the hopes of eventually becoming a professional cellist and MD

Quote: "Who knows where inspiration comes from. Perhaps it arises from desperation. Perhaps it comes from the flukes of the universe, the kindness of the muses." - Amy Tan

Charlie Killeen

Activities: "Stewed Tomatoes" Improv Comedy Group (Founder, Leader); Staff Writer for "The Gotham High Daily Beagle" (Humorist); Bearer of the Spirit Stick

Superlatives: Most Eager

Next Year Will Be: Attending USC

Quote: "Cut. It. Out."- Dave Coulier

Meadow Fairley

Activities: Organic Hurray! (Founder); NA; Students for a Peaceful Tomorrow; Interpretive Dance Club; Terpsichord; Grass is Greener Society; Young Radicals; Eastern Star Girls; Key Club

Superlatives: Most Original

Next Year Will Be: Surfing in Costa Rica, deferring at UC Santa Cruz

Quote: "What a long strange trip it's been"- Grateful Dead

Doug Johnson

Activies: Left Right Wrong (Grunge Band, Drummer); Kurt Cobain Memorial Society (Founder); Magic The Gathering Association; Hackey Sack Lunch Circle; Key Club

Next Year Will Be: Attending the University of Puget Sound

Quote: "A mulatto/an albino/a mosquito/my libido/yeah" - Kurt Cobain

Ansel Levy

Activities: Varsity Swim Team; Chillin'; Maxin'; Relaxin'; Waxin'; Key Club

Superlatives: Most Groomed

Next Year Will Be: Swimming At Hofstra

Quote: "Fellas - ladies love a solid six-pack and chiseled pecs. And no woman can resist a guy who keeps the lawn mowed (it maximizes the visual appeal of your power drill)." - MAXIM, June 1995

gotham high class of '96 - part 3
Filed November 14, 2004 8:08 PM.

The party itself was an unalloyed success, but the yearbook signing goes on, online:

Brett Durst

Activities: None

Superlatives: Most Unique

Next Year Will Be: Fuck all you stupid sheep. You'll all burn.

Quote: "Death is a policeman/death is the priest/death is the stereo/death is a TV" - Marilyn Manson

Egon "Cereal Killa2112" Lafleur

Activities: Gaming; Anti-Gravity Society; Riflery; Collecting Guns; Archery;
Physics Club

Next Year Will Be: A professional video game tester; stockpiling fertilizer; planning something "special" for his former classmates

Quote: "I am a TREASURE HUNTER, not a thief!" - Locke (from "Final Fantasy 6")

Echo Glass

Activities: Purple Smoke Coffee Shop Poetry Series (Founder); Knitting Club; Classical Guitar Quartet; Blowing Glass; Installation Art

Superlatives: Most Likely to Protest

Next Year Will Be: Attending Sarah Lawrence

Quote: "My painting carries with it the message of pain." -Frida Kahlo

Thaddeous "Tad" Baker

Activities: FCP (Fellowship Of Christian Punks); Young Life; Revelationz (Punk Band, Lead Guitarist); Promise Keepers of Tomorrow; 2nd Presbyterian Church Youth Group; Outward Bound; Students for Pat Buchannan; "See you at the Flagpole" Prayer Representative

Superlatives: Most Likely to Win a Christian Music Award; Most Likely To Shoot An
Abortionist

Next Year Will Be: Attending Bob Jones University

Quote: "Yes I am with you always, until the very end of time."-J.C.

Chet "Quick Fingers" Jackson

Activities: Jazz Band (Trumpet, Fourth Chair); The Swinging Jellyrolls (Local Swing Band, Leader); N.A.A.C.P. (Member); Mustard Plug Fan Club (Charter Member)

Next Year Will Be: Moving to New Orleans to explore his roots (or working for his father's law firm)

Quote: "Black is the color of my true love's hair." - Nina Simone

gotham high class of '96 - part 2
Filed November 11, 2004 12:52 PM.

Flip the yearbook page, and see who's next:

Amanda Danford

Activities: Student Council (President); National Honor Society (President); Latin Society (President); French Club (President); Students Against Drunk Driving (Founder, President); Model UN; Debate Team; Student Ambassador; Gotham HS "Blade" Yearbook (Editor); Valedictorian; Cum Laude Society; Young Kiwanis Club; Rotary Exchange; Future Business Leaders Of America; Young Life; 4-H Society; Big Sisters - Big Brothers; Blood Donor; Resthaven Retirement Home (Volunteer); Sharing With Appalachian People (Volunteer); Girl Scout (3rd Degree) and Former Brownie; Key Club

Superlatives: Most Likely to Succeed; Most Likely to Join a Club

Next Year Will Be: Attending Princeton

Quote: "In the Bible it says they asked Jesus how many times you should forgive, and he said 70 times 7. Well, I want you all to know that I'm keeping a chart." - Hilary Rodham Clinton

Misty "Udders" Udders

Activities: Homecoming Committee (Refreshments); Puppies Need Love! (Founder, Sole Member); Jason Priestly Fan Club (President); Babysitters Club Fan Club (President); Pen Pals Of America; Future Homemakers Of America

Next Year Will Be: Attending University of Minnesota at Duluth

Quote: "A hug is a great gift. One size fits all and it's easy to exchange." - Elly Biles

Ari "Hey, Jew!" Goldbergstein

Activities: Prayer; Jewish Athletics Club (Founder); Making Gelt; Counting Gelt; Flaunting Gelt In Front Of Poor Goyim

Superlatives: Biggest Kvetsch; Most Likely to Hoard

Next Year Will Be: Attending Simchas Beit HaSchwarma Yeshiva

Quote: "A rich man who is stingy is the worst pauper."-Yiddish proverb

Christine "Chris" Massangail

Activities: Varsity Softball (Captain, 1st Team All-State); Women's Lacrosse (1st Team All-State); Indoor Soccer; LGBT Association

Superlatives: Most Likely to Go to the Olympics; Most Likely to Befriend an Indigo Girl

Next Year Will Be: Playing softball at the University of Maryland

Quote: "Just go out there and do what you have to do."- Martina Navratilova

Rufus Whitney

Activities: Students For Dole (Founder); Ayn Rand Society; Why Not Eugenics? (Vice-President); Elizabethan Society; Class Vice-President; Demolay; Key Club

Superlatives: Most Likely To Be A Millionaire, Best Dressed

Next Year Will Be: Attending Dartmouth

Quote: "I would like to electrocute everyone who uses the word 'fair' in connection with income tax policies."-William F. Buckley

go dawgs!
Filed November 9, 2004 11:49 AM.

Yesterday evening, I shaved off my beard. Then I shaved off my chest hair, donned a Speedo, greased down with vegetable oil, and stepped in front of the camera.

Sadly, that's not a joke. Nor is it my first foray into the world of gay porn. Instead, it's just part of the preparation for the Gotham Sugar Shack's last throw-down - this Friday, November 12th - before my roommates and I head our separate ways.

The party, in short, recreates Homecoming '96. Why? In the words of the Evite:

That was perhaps the finest time in our lives. Or anybody else's lives - in the entire history of the world. Do you remember? We were still buzzing from the excitement of the Olympics in Atlanta (how about the rhythmic gymnastics? Estonia was robbed!), and now that the autumn air had grown crisp, it was time to settle old rivalries on, as they say in South Bend, "one hundred yards of glory."
It was Jaguars vs. War Eagles. Clinton vs. Dole. Coolio vs. Seal. TLC vs. All-4-One. Brandy vs. Alanis Morisette. Hootie vs. the Blowfish. Our virginity vs. Jenny William's defiant, "I'm not drinking tonight and you'd better put that thing away" steel will.

Due to Evite technical glitches, a number of intended invites apparently never went out. So, we sent out a second. As that seems to have fared little better, if you didn't receive an invitation but think you should have, or if we've never even met but you'd simply like to party like it's 1996, a few further details from the PTA newsletter:

Come out and support our boys as they Rally against the Ridgeview Tigers. I don't have to tell you this is the game of a lifetime, as we've got the passing strength to really come through and treat this victory not as the decimation of an old rival, but the first hurdle on the road to the first state championship in 30 years. Let's make '96 a year for the record books.
I'm also pleased to announce that Misty Sherman will be serving as the Homecoming Queen this year. She's an honor student and a member of the FBLA, the FFA, and the FHA (looks like she's got her work cut out for her!). She's engaged to Brandon Mozinga, a super-senior who most of you know as the guy who drives the green Mustang around the Kwik Mart all afternoon.

The kids are having a dance and we need sponsors to come and administer "refreshments" so please bring something young and old alike can enjoy. And wear something nice--it's '96 for pity's sake. Throw those stirrup pants out and come in a nice new pair of Lee's acid washed jeans.

Which reminds me of the cheer that has always warmed my heart:

"Two bits, four bits, six bits, a dollar. All for the bulldogs, stand up....stand up and holler!"

God Bless America and Go Dawgs!!!

Gotham High School Football Rules.

Given the success of the digital version of one of our prior parties (The Hell's Kitchen Museum of Curious Deaths), over the next week, I'll be posting the Gotham High Class of '96 Yearbook. But, of course, it'll be no match for the real thing.

So, clear out your calendar. This Friday, November 12th, 10:30pm. The Gotham Sugar Shack. Be there.

down under
Filed August 30, 2004 2:28 PM.

As noted in my last post, I'm reasonably good (especially while drunk) at passing myself off as Australian. It's a hard-earned talent, certainly, though one I put to good use for years, while under-age, drinking on an Australian fake ID.

For any underage drinkers reading along, it's an approach I heartily endorse, as it left me with scores of entertaining experiences, from berating liquor store clerks who tried to look up the ID for verification in their US license picture books between Arkansas and California ("You fucking American twat, it's a country, not one of your little 'states'"), to waxing philosophic about the Australian public transportation system (something I'd never actually used) in conversation with a cute grad student in Cincinnati writing her thesis on subway systems of the world.

Women, it seems, love Australians, though explaining the lack of accent the following morning can be a bit tough. And while bartenders are happy to spot such out-of-towners a round of drinks, the round is usually comprised of Fosters. (Bartender: "Here you go man; it's Australian for beer." Me: "More like Australian for watered down piss. Aside from Victoria Bitter, I wouldn't even rinse my arse with the swill Fosters bottles.")

Throughout my years of being part-time Australian, though, there was only one fake ID experience that left me feeling a bit guilty about it all. Right around the corner from Yale's dorms was a small liquor store, Quality Liquor, that was notorious for being brutal on fake ID's - the wall behind the register was lined by at least a hundred confiscated fakes. So, in part because they really did have New Haven's best liquor selection, and in part because I wanted to see how well my accent and ID stood up to the test, I headed in the first week of Freshman year.

Not only did I pass with flying colors, I quickly became a favorite of the owners, who referred to me as "Crocodile Dundee", and gave me free liquor and significant discounts. Over the years, I got quite friendly with them, regaling them with tales from the Outback. But, then, the summer after my Junior year, I turned 21. And I was faced with a dilemma: do I keep pretending to be Australian so as not to offend them after years of friendship under false pretenses? Or do I come clean? (In my native California accent: "Sorry about that Australian thing, dudes, but an alcoholic's got to drink.")

Not really life-and-death, I know, but honestly something I worried about for a considerable amount of time. So, when I returned after the summer to New Haven, my sadness was tinged with considerable relief when I discovered the store had closed. I was spared the chance of revelation altogether, and, at least for two fat middle-aged Italian guys, will forever be as Australian as they get.

the hell's kitchen museum of curious deaths
Filed January 22, 2004 9:31 PM.

Welcome to the Hell's Kitchen Museum of Curious Deaths! Or, at least, to the online version of it. In fact, the HKMoCD initially existed in the real world, in our fair apartment at 360 W. 51st St., New York City. It was located there for just one evening, as the backdrop of our Halloween shindig, the Hell's Kitchen Museum of Curious Deaths All Hallows Eve Tour and Punch Party. We went full out for the event, repainting walls, removing all the furniture, tweaking every detail possible for the most complete transformation.

The following afternoon, as we slowly sobered up, we began to realize that, at some point, we'd probably need to put back our couches, beds and bookshelves. Having expended too much time and energy to simply scrap the Museum's content altogether, however, we decided to recreate the experience online. That's what's going on here.

Even More Introduction

The Museum was in large part modeled after the New York Tenement Museum, so it depended significantly on the atmosphere of the apartment itself, rather than simply upon the exhibits presented. Sadly, given the limitations of the web medium, we can't recreate that here. We have, however, as a bare minimum, included below the floor plan of the Museum, as posted near the Museum's entrance:

In the real world, the Museum's exhibits were broken down by room, with each representing a major inhabitant in the apartment's history: first the McGuinn family (from 1856-1906), then Joseph Leibenz (1907-1954), and finally "Gay Johnny" in the modern era. Online, mainly due to laziness, we've lumped the exhibits together as one unmanageably long page of text.

None the less, we hope you'll enjoy the show.

McGuinn Family; The Builder of 360 W. 51st St., 1856-1906

Seamus McGuinn was born in 1810 on the southeastern coast of Ireland in the small town of Kinsdale, near Cork. McGuinn first came to the states in 1830 as a deckhand on board the Caelan Kavanaugh, a merchant ship that regularly sailed the north Atlantic route. In 1834, he married a woman in Newton, Massachusetts, though she died just seven months after their marriage, in the cholera epidemic that swept through Boston that year. McGuinn later joined the Royal Steam Packet Company of Dublin and was promoted to boatswain, sailing the charter voyage of a new route to New London and New York.In 1846, McGuinn became captain of the Fiona Iverna, a clipper with regular service between Dublin and New York. At that time he was nationalized as an American citizen, and moved into a shared townhouse on the corner of Bethune and Washington in the far West Village. He was a popular fixture of the neighborhood, as his name was listed on the register of several private drinking establishments, one of which, on the corner of Perry and Bleeker, was known to be a brothel.In 1852, a disagreement over a cockfight sent McGuinn looking for housing in the area outside of what was then the city. He built a large wood-frame structure on a parcel of land on the current 50th street and 10th avenue block. The area was still being used as farmland at the time, but as the streets were laid out, businessmen bought up parcels of the land. McGuinn settled there with a group of seamen who were eager to purchase land and establish homes away from their work. They purchased a small farm from a Dutchman named Dekker and subdivided the property. McGuinn lived in a wood frame structure he built there, until it burned in 1855.During that time, McGuinn fell in love with Dekker's daughter, and on his 45th birthday, he married the 17 year old girl, Wilhemina Dekker, known as Winnie. He wrote of her often in his diary and bought her fine items of clothing.

1856: Movin' on Up

When, in 1855, their home was destroyed by fire, Seamus and Winnie decided to build a multi-family dwelling for upper-class Irish nationals. They constructed the building currently located at 360 West 51st Street and moved into the first floor apartment. Winnie soon insisted that they move into an apartment further from the street noise, but not so high that they would have to walk up many flights of stairs.Soon after the building was completed, Winnie gave birth to two twin girls, both of whom were stillborn. Seamus insisted on a male heir, and though he believed his wife to be hysterical with grief over the deaths of the twins, he insisted on a male heir. Subsequently, Winnie gave birth to two daughters, Rhiannon and Treasa and a boy, Hamish.In 1867, Seamus was murdered under unusual circumstances. Suspects were numerous, as many in the community resented his wealth and prosperity, rare for an Irishman at the time. Among the suspects were his own wife, who resented both her servitude to him and the age difference between them, and his son Hamish, who cared deeply for his mother Winnie, and loathed his father's tyrannical dealings with her. Seamus was murdered with the spindle of a spinning wheel, gouged through his skull, between the eyes

1878: Movin' on Out

Following his father's death, Hamish took ownership of the apartment, where he looked after his aging mother. His sisters moved into a residence nearby, and Hamish purchased a dry-goods store with part of his inheritance that all three children helped run. Hamish began taking classes at Columbia College, preparing for a degree as an accountantAfter a torrid affair with a Barnard student, who later committed suicide, Hamish dropped out of classes. He subsequently squandered his inheritance in the bars by the port, seeing his sisters increasingly infrequently. In 1874, his mother Winnie died of neglect. Hamish became a drifter, finding his way to the American/Canadian border, then vanishing completely.

Caoilainn and Fionna McGuinn, 1857

The twin daughters of Seamus and Wilhemina McGuin were stillborn in 1857. Wilhemina insisted on naming the infants Caoilainn and Fionna, claiming that “angel-babies need names just the same as grownup-angels.” Caoilainn and Fionna were buried in a potato patch less than 100 yards from this spot, where there is currently a Go Sushi. In February of 2001, a customer of the restaurant fainted after receiving his sushi box. When awoken, the man insisted that he had seen two dead infants, nestled between his soba noodles and spicy tuna rolls.

Hamish McGuinn, 1872

Hamish McGuin, son of Seamus and Wilhemina, became estranged from his remaining family after the unfortunate spindle-death of his father. An impulse buyer with a sweet tooth, Hamish spent much of his inheritance on one-cent taffy and grapes. In later years, Hamish became afflicted with dementia, drifting through New York state. He was last seen selling his “sweetbreads” in the restroom of a cigar shoppe near Niagra Falls.

Seamus and Wilhelmina McGuinn, 1856

Devout Irish Catholics, Seamus and Wilhelmina (who converted from Dutch Protestant) were practitioners of “Fockleyr Gaelg” a Gaelic tradition of spouse shaving. Using warm lather and a straight-edged blade, Wilhelmina (or “Winnie”) would shave Seamus' beard in the style of the day; Seamus would reciprocate by shaving Winnie's stomach hair in the outline of President Franklin Pierce, also the style of the day.

Musical Instruments, 1858

The McGuinn family loved to play music together on Tuesday evenings. The instruments here constitute what old Seamus called an "Irish Orchestra".His diary entry from February 23rd, 1873 reads: "These damn children can't learn to play music like I listened to in the bonny dales of Eirin. The way they play, it sounds like a bleating sheep being taken from behind. It's a damn shame my own children have to be such a humiliation to our countrymen, most of whom can barely afford to play a potato-chip can on the sidewalk outside the White Horse Tavern. It's a blessing I got the clap a few years back from the red-head milliner in the Bloom's dry goods so's I can't hear the bloody racket."The McGuinn children never became musicians.

Rhiannon and Treasa in Tambourine Class, 1867

Rhiannon (lower left) and Treasa McGuinn (upper row, center) participated in a music class for untalented children. Instruments used in class included tambourines, pebbles in bags, pieces of bark, and snap-peas. Later in life, Rhiannon became a world-traveler and married a Swedish herring importer and haberdasher. Her memoir, entitled “My Life With Tweed Pants and Fish,” was published shortly before her death. Treasa became a bohemian, moved to a one-bedroom apartment off of Washington Square Park, and helped found the Society du Lesbos. Treasa never saw Rhiannon again, but whenever she tasted fish she would think of her sister. Both lived to be 105.

Society du Lesbos, Date Unknown

Founded by Treasa McGuinn in the late-19th century, the Society du Lesbos, an organization comprised of mustache-wearing women, was devoted to discussing the politics of sexuality, gaining women's suffrage, and wearing funnels as hats.The Society du Lesbos made their presence well felt in New York by writing petitions, leading discussions in Washington Square Park, and eating a ton of pussy.

Wilhelmina McGuinn, 1874

After her husband's untimely death, Wilhelmina let her body hair grow wild and became a taxidermist, first as a hobby and then, showing remarkable skill, as a career. She worked until her dying day, and in her obituary it was written that her “workspace was filled with wire, tow, string, and wet clay, the pelts drying on wooden forms and the bird skins turned inside out, dusted with cornmeal and arsenic; scraping-knives in the skulls of deer, the odor of stale meat and green bone, the rank odor of water birds' flesh, almost black with oil.”As per her last request, Wilhelmina's daughters had her stuffed and sent on a freighter back to the Netherlands, where she was placed in a tulip garden outside of Amsterdam and fashioned into a windmill.

Neighborhood Stories: Ginny the Librarian, 1896

This photo of Ginny the Librarian, emerging from her place of work, was on the cover of “The New York Times” on March 11, 1896. At the time, Ginny the Librarian was also known as “Bedbug Ginny,” blamed for the bedbug epidemic of the spring and summer of 1896, having apparently spread more than just the joy of reading.In addition to whoring her way through the five burroughs, Westchester, and must of northern New Jersey, Ginny was able to speak six languages (including American sign language), and spent her spare time using a homemade press to convert the literature of Hawthorne and Melville to Braille.

Neighborhood Stories: Li'l Baby Jennifer, 1887

The entire city of New York waited for four sleepless days in the summer of 1887 as Li'l Baby Jennifer, who fell into an open well, became a symbol of the city's hope and tenacity.The fire department spent almost 80 hours attempting to rescue Li'l Baby Jennifer. When she emerged in the arms of a fireman name Giuseppe Cammarino, the entire city sobbed at the sight of what appeared to be a dead child.In fact, Li'l Baby Jennifer was actually not dead, just very, very tired. Her parents, who owned a coffin factory, posed the sleeping Li'l Baby Jennifer in her coffin-bed for this photo, which was on the cover of the August 7th, 1887 issue of the “Hell's Kitchen Farm Bulletin.”Li'l Baby Jennifer died four months later from malnutrition due to a lack of water and food.

Society & Culture: Oyster Eating, 1898

This woman enjoyed eating oysters, as did many other Americans at the turn of the century. Oysters are high in protein and are plentiful off the waters of Long Island.Nothing else is known about this woman, except that she may have enjoyed her oysters with ice cream and lemonade.

Society & Culture: Woman With Beads, 1924

This woman with beads, named Woman With Beads, sold her necklaces at a cute little boutique in SoHo, though everything was overpriced, and they didn't even have Manola Blahnik or Versace back then, so who really gives a shit?Woman With Beads, whose people were raped and slaughtered by White explorers who “discovered” that there were already natives living on “their discovery,” got her revenge by ripping off dumb tourists with her overpriced shitty necklaces. Disney is currently developing a computer-animated film about Woman With Beads' adventures in capitalism. The voice of Woman With Beads will be performed by Brittany Murphy.

Josef Lieben, Entrepreneur, 1906-1955

The Early Century

The building was sold to the Josef Lieben, a german Jew from Prussia, whose cloth manufacturing facility on 38th street and 8th avenue was doing well. His mother had fallen ill, and he wanted to open the building as an insane asylum to help care for her and the other Jewish ladies in the neighborhood, which was diversifying rapidly and growing fast.By 1936, Josef Lieben had managed to build a clothing empire, with retail stores in Cleveland, Syracuse, Buffalo, Pittsburg, and Detroit. His factories, though run by women and children, were cleaner and better managed than many factories that were operating at the time. However, Josef's heart was in caring for the elderly and the deranged. His asylum, here on 360 West 51st Street, was his refuge from the stress of managing his businesses. His mother welcomed him with open arms and the two would spend long afternoons on many days of the week, hoarding money and spinning dreidel. Josef would never make a decision without seeking his mother's guidance, and so much of his time was passed in his mother's quarters, here on the third floor.Lieben's fortunes shifted in the depression. His stores fell on hard times and Lieben resorted to selling bubble tea from a streetcart on the Lower East Side to pay the debt service on the apartment building. Lieben was later murdered by a ruthless Chinese street gang.

Joseph Lieben and Fritz, 1910

Joseph Lieben (left), who never took a wife, is shown here with his manservant, “Fritz.” One of the leading entrepreneurs of turn-of-the-century Hell's Kitchen, Lieben was successfully able to convert 360 West 51st Street into a combination high-cost insane asylum and low-cost brothel. Referred to in the press as a “scoundrel and a robber baron of flesh,” Lieben claimed that it he did it all for his mother's well being. Joseph Lieben disappeared in 1918, and three months later his top hat, his cane, and his moustache were found behind a Chinese laundry on Mott Street. It is believed that he was murdered by a hit-squad sent by the infamous Ghost Dragons, a gang that ruled Chinatown, and controlled the New York shizophrenic-whore industry with an iron fist.

Schizephrenic Whores, 1917

These deranged women, wives and daughters of wealthy Connecticut businessman, were placed in the care of Joseph Lieben, who promptly converted them into garden-variety hookers.The one in the middle had Tourettes, and could swallow a whole potato. The girl on the upper right had seven distinct personalities, and was double-jointed. The little slut sitting Indian style in the front took an entire group of Navy-men at the same time, then stood up, wiped herself off, and asked if they knew where the Army base was located. Modern statistics weren't kept at this time, but it is estimated that the one on the lower left spread syphilis to the entire west side of Manhattan.After Lieben's mysterious disappearance, all of these women were returned to their parents and husbands in Greenwich and Westport. Later evaluation revealed that they were all, in fact, sound of mind.

Uta Leiben (mother), 1914

Very little is known about Uta, the mother of Joseph Lieben, except that she collected hats and lived with a wooden husband.She is mentioned only once in period newspapers, and the article describes the unfortunate circumstances surrounding her death: “Uta Lieben, a woman aged 78 years, attended a hypnotist's exhibition the other night, and while laughing heartily at the antics of the subject under hypnotic control, was seized with a severe fit of coughing which became hysterical and has continued without stop…Unless the coughing can be cured shortly the results will likely be fatal.”Lieben died three days later, leaving 39 hats and her wooden husband to goodwill.

Uta Leiben's Wooden Husband, 1920

Uta Lieben's wooden husband, whom she referred to as “Franz Appledong,” was born of a forty year old hickory outside of Albany, New York.Both a xenophobe and proponent of the eugenics movement, Franz the wooden man despised Cigar Store Indians, and showed his spite by sitting rigidly and silent.In 1954, Franz Appledong was turned into two-dozen shoehorns, and he now resides in New Jersey, Connecticut, Delaware, Missouri, Kansas, Texas, Illinois, and American Samoa.

Gay Johnny and the Yuppie Brigade, 1955-present

Hell's Kitchen gets its Angel Wings

The second half of the twentieth century saw some remarkable changes for Hell's Kitchen. All of the jews moved to the Upper West Side; all the Italians moved into Brooklyn; the Irish divided up the city into six-block quadrants, with each family assigned the task of managing an Irish pub in their quadrant, to serve as a cultural education center and conversation house.With all the ethnic turmoil, the neighborhood became very dangerous. The new Port Authority bus terminal attracted crack pushers and winos, because poor people take buses. Kids in the nieghborhood began attending the Juliard School for dance and musical theater, quickly leading to their joining gangs and fighting each other in a neighborhood wide, large-scale performance art project called West Side Story that involved stylized knife fighting and re-interpreting Shakespeare.Lured by the musical theater, the Gays came into the neighborhood and opened the Electric Banana Bar on 50th street. After the Gays came the creative capitalists, who, like gays, moved in with their Starbucks and their flat-screen televisions. These were the quarter-life crisis Yuppie Brigade who now live in over forty percent of the Hell's Kitchen housing stock. 360 West 51st Street was bought by a white-bread dork named Jeffrey Shotwell, who owned the building until last September, when it passed back into mob hands. Brusco Management now runs the property.

Local Flavor: Gay Johnny

[Image to be added shortly]

Gay Johnny was a prickly pear, who spent the early part of the 1980's instilling fear in the residents of Hell's Kitchen, a neighborhood that he controlled with a tightly clenched fist, and sphincter.Both a chicken hawk and a “bottom who preferred skinny, uncut, adolescent tops,” Gay Johnny fed his crack habit by slinging his butt around like a walking advertisement for a proctologist's office. From the seedy dive bars across from the Port Authority Terminal to the hidden alcoves of the local Boy's Club, Gay Johnny got around.Johnny had an appetite for crack cocaine and looked for the white rock on most afternoons, trolling for tricks to calm his craving on Ninth Avenue between 46th Street and 57th. He'd find horny uptown sugar daddies, and lure them back to his pad (which he called the "Gotham Sugar Shack", a name that remains to this day), trading sexual favors for money, alcohol, and drugs.Gay Johnny also enjoyed doing the Sunday crossword (he was a classics major at Cambridge), building houses with Habitat for Humanity, and stargazing on his roof.On February 9th, 1984, Johnny was registered missing by the man who lived across the way — Ian, a Scottish actor who continues to live in apartment 3B. Ian was out to locate some inexpensive cans of tuna when he discovered a stench worse than the dented canned tuna in his grocery bag. Gay Johnny was dead, and, worse, he had been so for some time.None the less, according to his wishes, Gay Johnny's prostate was donated to scientific research.

Reverse Mimes, 1968

The men in this photo, taken in 1968, may appear shocking to modern audiences.What modern audiences don't realize is that these men are actually “reverse mimes”. During the Summer of Love (in 1968), their group performed on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, to absolutely no success whatsoever.“It's performance art, people! Don't you get it?” they were heard to yell at the horrified crowd, shortly before they were pummeled to death by hippies tripping on angel dust.

Blame Our Mummy Filed November 20, 2006 10:48 AM.

Dry Humor Filed July 27, 2006 6:34 PM.

Dick Move Filed July 26, 2006 6:01 PM.

All Your Women are Belong to Me Filed April 4, 2006 11:26 AM.

Feeble Fools Filed April 2, 2006 3:57 PM.

Pity the Fu Filed March 21, 2006 1:58 PM.

Guy Get-Ups Filed October 20, 2005 11:51 AM.

Blimp Pilots Filed June 27, 2005 12:49 PM.

IOU Filed April 1, 2005 5:32 PM.

easy fun Filed February 16, 2005 6:58 PM.

gotham high class of '96 - part 4 Filed November 16, 2004 6:38 PM.

gotham high class of '96 - part 3 Filed November 14, 2004 8:08 PM.

gotham high class of '96 - part 2 Filed November 11, 2004 12:52 PM.

go dawgs! Filed November 9, 2004 11:49 AM.

down under Filed August 30, 2004 2:28 PM.

the hell's kitchen museum of curious deaths Filed January 22, 2004 9:31 PM.