It’s All My Fault, I Know It

Published November 15, 2013 by Larry Fisher

I wish it were the time before the bible. If someone did you wrong, you just took care of it the way you felt best.

Modern problems are dealt with legally. That is what the bible is; it is the first law book.  So, I guess Lawyers are direct descendants of Moses.

Eventually, legal issues will come up with Brooklyn flea markets. You’ll see. People who run some Brooklyn flea markets will have to fold their corporations. Of course, it won’t matter.  They will have made their money and will have moved on to other more lucrative real estate deals.

Its always about making money. Except now, it is always about making money but having the P.R. to present to the public that it is not about making money but about “community.” and about making a farm out of the tough inner city. “You just have to get rid of the weeds, even if you smoke ’em.”

People think short term now. Someone who opens a flea and can close them with a twit, are probably twits. Why should they care about anything else except their pockets. Why? Where else in the world do people do things except for themselves? They weren’t making money with a flea, close it down with a twit.

But the P.R. … Oh the little P.R.  man has to be good. And if  accidentally good things happen because of good P.R. well then it doesn’t matter what or how things are done. Spin it baby! Spin that bullshit you spew.

Good P.R. goes a long way, and some good can actually  come from good P.R. No doubt about it.

Brooklyn fleas are doing good, aren’t they? They talk about making markets where people are coming together like in Maine, where 12 people get together to make a bucket of molasses.

Yet, a market that I sold at in the heart of Park Slope, is taken over and no one from this goody, goody” share a community ” and a responsibility comes and talk to the “molasses” that has been there for decades. Why? Because they already have a process of entry into their “molasses” making… and because they didn’t know that I am capable of writing about them till they close down.


I love that about them. I really do. They think they know it all, and their empire will collapse. Soon enough, no one will want to be with them, cause they suck at communication. They are great at manipulation or spin… They need to connect with The Tea Party, even though they think they are the opposite. They are not.

We live in an obnoxious time, in an obnoxious city, with lots of good people who are just hanging on by a thread. New Yorkers, Brooklyn people have been pushed around by people who come from Maine or The Upper East Side. We got pushed around and bullied and there is no turning back. We lost the city.

Why will I continue to obsess  about this flea market. I have to. I owe it to myself. They have deeply hurt me and other vendors, but still have a pretense of being good guys. When they stop pretending to be good guys, I will move on.

It is all my fault, I know it in my heart. It has to be my fault. I created this mess in this city.  Somehow, I am at fault for not sucking ass to this Corporation. I could have been making mint, like the suck ass vendors who first were rejected by the flea and then when they saw, they had no vendors, made concessions and changed their molasses making rules.

I hate the vendor who had the balls to say anything in the Voice article that is positive. Fuck You. You who hated the takeover more than anyone else. Wait, are you the insider mole who is going to bring down the market? Very clever. Good going guy.


And I am here to tell you that nothing in this city is anyone’s fault except my own.  It is my fault that some other company took over a flea I was scraping by at, and that if I would have stayed, I would have been making nothing, because they have rules on how to make molasses… And their rules included paying when it rained, paying more money even if it is cold and nobody comes. Pay, no matter what. Real community leaders.

And even if a tree is dry, you still have to pay for the sap. I guess that is how they work as community in Maine. I gotta go talk to the guys parents. I bet they think he’s a sap as well. How could they respect him. They left New York to move away from creeps like their son. Oh, what a spin!

Here is another horror story I’ve written  about Real Estate guys who kill wildlife and gut them, and leave them on the beach in the Hamptons in order to drive down the market on Real Estate they want to buy cheaper.

Oh and come on down to the new Park Slope Flea Market on 20th street between 4th and 5th avenue tomorrow. Selling lots of cool records and old memorabila from Patrick McGoohan’s “The Prisoner” show….



A Monster Confession: A One Man Show Of A Flea Market Entrepreneur (First Draft)

Published November 14, 2013 by Larry Fisher

( Stage Direction: One stark light comes on. A man sits with his legs crossed.He only has one shoe on. In the background are the sounds of zombies eating brains…they are satiated and simmer down.)

I created Brooklyn. Oh sure, you could laugh, but I did create Brooklyn. If you are from somewhere else, and don’t know where Brooklyn is, well…where have you been? Now, you heard of it. You should come and eat some meat at my flea market, and then my partner  can sell you a brownstone  to shit the meat out.

Brooklyn is the coolest place in the world, and I created the bubble of cool. Without me, Brooklyn would not be here and it would not be my kind of cool.  I am trying to trademark the name. The Supreme Court will decide if I can put the little c with a bubble around it.

Oh sure, there are people in Brooklyn who call me the little c because I am close to owning the name Brooklyn, but I did right by them, even if they don’t see it. I made a safe bubble for them. I created the bubble around the c, and so I should own it! The little c is for cool, but I know some people want to call me the little cunt.

Brooklyn, the old Brooklyn was filled with blah…crime.. and when I showed Brooklyn the great white way with the flea market I started with my Real Estate Partner…(I call it the great white way because of the Broadway musical  P.T. Barnum element I brought to an otherwise  very dark moody neighborhood. )

There were blahs everywhere, and I made ecological sunshine throughout the borough. Sure, it costs more here but that’s how you get rid of the blahs. You have to price the blahs out. You have to distill what is good, and get rid of the fermented subtrates…I think that is what garbage is called by moonshiners.

Anyway, sometimes the people who hate me, and there are many if not most…I mean nobody hates me to my face. I have too much power…I almost own the little c in a bubble next to Brooklyn, but people do hate me and I don’t care about being hated in my day to day living. I hate being hated in my dreams. I don’t mind being hated in my nightmares, that’s to be expected, but I hate being hated in my dreams.

My nightmares…they are dark. I lose Brooklyn, I mean my Brooklyn with the little c and the bubble. Global warming, hurricanes come and I can’t charge people for their flea market spot, because the Mayor declares a nightmare. That is my nightmare. I won’t be able to charge people for the spot they reserved at my flea market. Fucking pussies. Come out and sell in a little rain. Get your boat and get to your spot and sell your meat. Sell it. Make people eat your sausage. Ram it down their hungry throats!

That’s my nightmare… the city is closed due to a hurricane or a nuclear blast and I can’t rent out my flea market space and get my money.

That’s why  I keep trying to convince my partner to go into politics . I am going to be his speechwriter when he becomes mayor. “Yes, there is a combo hurricane flooding and dirty bomb in New York, but you must all go about your business. Pretend nothing happened. Vendors need to go to their Flea Markets and customers need to eat their meat. Owners need to collect their money and gain more power.”

I used to be a speechwriter for a Borough President. I can spin a dreidel, it’s like a top, but you gamble on a dreidel.  Once, before owning Brooklyn, or a speechwriter, I was just a Writer, a journalist. You can’t survive in this city as a Writer, and then I hooked up with wealth in my Real Estate guy…and he said, “If only we could get rid of the blahs, we could make a lot of money.”

And I said,”If we create a flea that had no blahs, it would make a safe bubble for all the people frightened by ecological hazards.”

We shook hands…and now Brooklyn is going to be my little c with a bubble around it. I own it. I trademarked my life to own this and no one is going to stop me.

(Dergby stands up and starts pacing on one shoe)

My dreams kill me…not when I am dreaming them, but when I wake. In my dream, I never became a speechwriter. I never knew how to twist words and ideas around till I believed them. In my dreams, I never hooked up with a Real Estate guy. I never wanted to own Brooklyn with a little c and a bubble around it. I didn’t care. In my dreams, I write about what is in my heart. I try to deal with the pain of life and love. I deal with simple things. I survive by waking up early in the morning and writing about my dreams and nightmare. In my dreams, I write and then I go to a dark open space and set up to sell books and records and knic knacs that I love and want to share with my community. Whatever I make I make. Whatever I earn goes back into writing and loving the people in my life and my passion for writing and getting to understand this world and what is real for me in my life.

And I get to that point in my dream of what is real for me in my life, and I am emotional and I am always in tears, and I feel sorry for myself and the pain and suffering for all humans in a heartless world of greed where people lose themselves…Where they “don’t want to know the truth,” because the truth is pain and the truth will never set you free. The truth is just misery… and so we try our best to just live with distractions and little bubbles, and we try to scab over those bubbles, so they become hard and impenetrable…

(Dergby sits back down, out of breath)

And then I wake from this dream and I am relieved. I can go back to living my nightmare like it didn’t exist. I can go back to owning Brooklyn with the little c and the bubble around it.

(Zombies eating brains again)

The End

Where Would This City Be Without Corruption?

Published November 13, 2013 by Larry Fisher

Here is some of my conversation with the new Corruption Agency hotline in New York.

“This city runs on corruption. If it weren’t for corruption, nothing would get done ever. You probably couldn’t have a pot hole fixed without corruption. You couldn’t have a Borough President without corruption, you couldn’t have a market on the waterfront without corruption, you couldn’t have a bidding auction without corruption (storage room or real estate). Corruption is like the waves of the ocean, it has to flow back and forth. There’s no getting around it. The infrastructure of the city would collapse without corruption. Just watch out for high tides.”

This was my  phone response to the corruption hotline…I saw the corruption hotline  ad that lingers down on the subway walls and thought it would be funny to complain to someone who is supposed to hear complaints

. Interestingly enough, I haven’t seen any graffiti artists mess with the ad. Occasionally, you see a real estate Joker try to peel the phone number off. I guess the real estate people, and  Market entrepreneurs don’t want people calling the corruption hotline. Who does?

The city runs on corruption, the city would collapse. If you don’t believe me, call the new  number for corruption in New York. Tell them what you know: 212 335 8987…The old standby  FBI number in New York  is 212 384 1000…See if anything changes.

“I bet I was the first to call.”

The lady on the other line asked me if I was being sarcastic.

I explained,”: I was a satirist and that the city runs on corruption and I doubted the government really truly believed that they could end corruption in this city.”

Dead silence on her end, then  she asked me, “What is a satirist?”

“People think my job as a Satirist is to make jokes…I am sad to say, (and maybe I should call myself a Sadirist,) a Satirist’s job is just to tell the truth in a particular way that people usually don’t hear. In other words, it is not “spin.” It is often a reverse spin like a screwball pitch in baseball. “

“A Satirist’s job is to roast a pig, but first you have to kill the pig, skin the pig, blood let the pig, gut the pig, clean the pig, marinate the pig, and then slow roast the pig on a spit. (I guess roasting a pig is a kind of spin

I continued,”If everyone complained, I mean if everyone complained about the corruption in this city, you would need as many operators as 311.”

She put me through to her boss. We talked about corruption for an hour. Nothing will get done. I promised him to  continue writing and keeping the department informed of corruption as the letters keep coming in to me. People are writing and complaining to me about corruption even as I explain that we need corruption and I don’t want to destroy it. I am no snitch. I am no Snowden. Let the corruption live!

Spoiler Alert

I just want to make it clear hear and now that the fictional horror stories I write about Real Estate guys are just monsters to entertain, they are just :fiction. The real story about these guys are much darker and too scary for me to write about. They no longer  know the truth. They know their spin on the truth, but they don’t know the truth. They are a lot like Politicians who hire guys to be speechwriters, but really both of them really want to be in Real Estate…So they spin and spin, just like a top,( or in the case of many Real Estate dudes in Brooklyn, they spin like a dreidel.)

I am embarrassed for former speechwriters who leave that job and then have to get another job. They have spun themselves into a hole, and there is no getting out, till they get out. Maybe they should call the corruption hotline.

Their Future Is Mine And “It Hurts Like A Mother Fucker”

Published November 12, 2013 by Larry Fisher

Brooklyn Flea turns out to be perfect. They will make me rich one day. They have given me a wealth of horror story material. Their future is mine. By taking away the flea market I was selling in, which means money is tighter than ever for me and my family, I spend a lot of time creating Gentrification Monster stories in my head as I scramble to keep a roof over my head. I have already written a monster story about Brooklyn Flea, i t is called, “The Monster Dergby.”

In a year or so, I will have at least 20 monster, horror stories about Brooklyn Flea. In the past, I have written about a character who always wanted to create a monster as big as Frankenstein, Dracula and the Wolf man, but always fell short. I think with Brooklyn Flea, I will be able to create that darkness, an eating machine that eats and eats away at a city and itself, It eats its creators. It eats and tastes like reality, but it just eats away at itself. In the end, this creature will just eat itself. It will eat its own bullshit!

I have an idea for a  monster story about two retired monsters who reflect back on a city they destroyed. “Back in the day,”  as they were  destroying the city, they actually believed  they were  doing good community activities; They have brought people closer together because people were terrified  that they were going to eat them out of house and home,”We did good work!”

I have other plans for the book. It will take about a year or two. I want to watch the real  monsters I have met,  grow and collapse. I won’t be around when my grandchildren get to read my book called, The Monstrological Society Presents: “Tales To Astonish Your Children And Keep Them Quiet All Night,” but I hope they will keep  the message about Butler and Demby alive.

I love that Brooklyn Flea truly believe that they have helped a city identify itself. They helped destroy it, and the great thing is they probably don’t want to be here anymore themselves. They hate it here. Isn’t it obvious by them coming into a small market like P.S.321 and not even talking to the vendors who have been there forever, till after they began to understand that they couldn’t bring their type of brand into  that market….They helped build a culture, they would love to run away from…. Maybe they need to go to Maine on a farm, and run into New Yorkers who they helped chase away…Maybe they will run into a bitter New Yorker in Maine on a cold and dreary night. Sounds like another possible horror story right there. I love it!(These guys are great for horror stories.) I recommend anyone who wants to write horror stories to meet these guys.

New Yorkers, real New Yorkers, and real Brooklyn people laugh at “Brooklyn Flea.” Damn, their families probably laugh at them. I know their vendors do. People keep their mouth shut because Demby and Butler have power and money now…but whenever I have talked to anyone about them, there is always, and I mean always, a snicker, or a big laugh about them. I have to yet to meet anyone who likes them, I mean really like them. So, they are also a great source of material for Satirists and Comedians. God, the Brooklyn Flea is turning out to be the best thing in the world for my writing.

Their future is mine. I will think about them for horror stories, and write about them over and over, till I own their darkness, till I have exhausted their Nathaniel West type of satire; “A Cool Million,” comes to mind.

I will give their monster personality as much compassion as I can. All monsters will be well rounded in the Brooklyn Flea stories. One monster will love pets, one will be charitable and not necessarily kill you. I will really give these guys a chance. Every monster deserves a chance to redeem itself and become…human…

I won’t stop till there is a film about their horrors and absurdities. They will become iconic like Darth Vader breathing hard and confessing. I have a big smile on my face thinking about monsters confessing and feeling guilt.

One of the horror stories I am going to write is called “It Hurts Like A Mother Fucker,”  it will be about the metaphorical blinding pain and rage of someone abusing the closest person  to you; your mother. Isn’t that what the expression means…some pain that is so ungodly that it is blinding: imagine, breaking your leg and seeing your bone through your skin; “Hurts like a mother fucker!” How about getting hit in the head, and seeing parts of your face on the floor in front of you. “hurts, like a mother fucker!” This story might end up in “The Monstrological Society Presents: Dark Tales You Read After Putting The Monsters To Sleep.”

This is the rage I feel, this is now me wanting to create monsters from Real Estate gentrification monsters that have continuously come into this city and fucked with it. They don’t last here. They come in and call it their own, till they can’t take it anymore and leave. When they leave, they actually believe their own bullshit and pat themselves on their backs and say, “Good job, we did good right?” But they know in their hearts, if they can find their hearts, that it “hurts like a mother fucker,”

Brooklyn Flea And This City Is A Done Deal

Published November 7, 2013 by Larry Fisher

On just about any topic, I get tired of my own argument and start defending my enemy. I did not do well in debates. I realized that everybody has a point of view and if they say their ideas  with enough conviction and mantras, they begin to  believe their own bullshit and then I find I start to  believe  their bullshit as well.

In Jonathan Butler and Eric Demby’s defense, Brooklyn Flea won the bid to run their flea market at P.S.321 however they want to.  They did not have to come talk to any of the vendors and explain the process, they did not have to talk to the manager who was a vendor and manager for 32 years. They did not have to say,”Hey, you guys have been working at this flea market and know this community, and you guys are all born and bred Brooklyn people and the name of our corporation is after all  ‘Brooklyn Flea’ so we may just keep you around to see how things work. We may eventually get rid of you but for the time being you guys know what’s what.”

They did not have to say or do any of those things and they did not, until after the old flea market was ousted  and they realized that they could not fill the place with their  vendors from other locations. Brooklyn Flea had to scramble  and  now allow the  old vendors to work  the otherwise  empty flea market. I laugh at how little money the new vendors  who come in and try out the market make. The Park Slope community can on certain days want everything for a dollar.

Of course, I am disappointed in the old vendors who capitalized on joining Brooklyn Flea and are making out like bandits because they don’t have the usual competition. Eventually, the honeymoon will end.

The irony of the story  about Brooklyn Flea is even the Mafia has better tactics than the arrogance of modern day entrepreneurs. The Mafia comes in and sits you down and tells you how things are going to go down. They always offer you something in exchange for what they want. They are never dismissive in business deals. They understand consequences of even the simplest of men  and always make an offer. You know,”I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse”. They really do that! I have been at that meeting, and I live to write it, but barely… That’s another story.

Brooklyn Flea does not understand that if you don’t make an “offer they can’t refuse”  there can consequences. I don’ t mean that as a threat but am smiling about they day they step on the wrong persons toes. I guess you have to have been born in Brooklyn and raised in the Bronx to understand what they clearly don’t understand

But why don’t they understand that? I guess cause nothing has happened to them, that would make them understand that. It seems to be a contagious form of entitlement in this city.

I wonder what happens when they run into the Mafia and they  don’t make “an offer they can’t refuse” to them. The Mafia can smarten anyone up very quickly. As cut throat as Brooklyn Flea can be, I don’t think they understand some of the underbelly of this city.


Brooklyn Flea taking over Park Slope is a done deal. It doesn’t matter what I think, or if Brooklyn Flea figures out the neighborhood and makes business or not. It just doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who makes money and has a good Christmas or if my kids get their Hanukkah presents they want or not.

The issue here was always a bigger picture of a changing City and country. The idea of a flea market being a corporation is embarrassing. A flea market is a community of various people coming together and realizing that they could be an outdoor store of used items; some are junk, some are collectible, and some are antiques. Some junk turns out to be a rare antique, and some antiques turn out to be reproductions. Some people are selling off their dead dad’s pipes, and some people are selling their dead fishes, (not needed anymore) fish tank. It is hard to believe that it is packaged as something to be marketed and trademarked. It’s embarrassing laughable, not for Brooklyn Flea, but for customers who believe the preciousness of it all.

That it can be taken seriously is a marketing genius ploy by Butler and Demby. I am smiling and applauding their  ability to recognize that there are at least two suckers born every minute in this country. Bravo Butler, Bravo Demby… Watch out Brooklyn, Butler and Demby may try to trademark the name Brooklyn, and you won’t be able to say “Brooklyn” anymore. Bye Bye Brooklyn!

I worked Brooklyn Flea when they first started, and they would have all these rules, and be mean spirited to their Vendors in nasty e-mails.

People kill themselves working for people they don’t like or respect because they don’t feel there is any other option.  I worked for Time Inc. for 9 years after graduating College and left to become a Junkman because working for “the man” was  hard on the soul, I thought becoming a junkman would give me some autonomy.

After a couple of years with Brooklyn Flea, I realized that they were worse than working for Time Inc. Time Warner Mitsubishi or whatever the company is called now, seemed like a viable option over “Brooklyn Flea”.

I got out and moved to Paul’s small market in Park Slope.

Instead of charging me money on a rain day, Paul would call me and say,”I don’t think you are going to make money today, stay home.” There was no better  fair businessman than Paul the old manager of P.S.321. And I can say that he became my friend even as he was still my boss for the day.

I have only met vendors who hate the management of Brooklyn Flea. I mean seriously hate. They stay because they have to.  They keep their mouth shut for now, but if the revolution ever goes down, Eric Demby and Jonathan Butler should watch out for the antique pitch and forks heading their way.

One day, the Brooklyn Flea vendors will not have to work  for people they hate. Brooklyn Flea will sell the Corporation and move on to something a little more lucrative than trying to market junk. I can only imagine their blue print for the future.

I am here to tell New York, there could be a flea market every weekend in every school yard. You could make money for supplies and extra teachers. Brooklyn Flea will run a bunch of those flea markets, and other people like Paul will run the good ones.

Go start your own flea market. Make it a community getting together and working together for some extra presents for the kids on the holidays and some more teachers in the schools, or to support your artistic lifestyle and not some rich kids who are rooking you out of even affording to pay your rent.

Death Will Become Rental: Head Stoner : A New Blahhg

Published November 1, 2013 by Larry Fisher

Head Stoner-  A Rental Cemetery Plot Blog, will be here any day now. As soon as all the Brownstones get bought up and all the poor people are pushed out, Real Estate dudes are gonna come looking for your dead momma.

First, the real estate dudes will buy out the Cemetery Plots throughout the city. Then they will offer the deceased family money to remove the bones and the headstone, and then” let the rentals begin! ”

Instead of owning your own burial plot, you will only be  able to rent your hole  for 20 years. After 20 years, someone is going to have to come dig you up and  move your headstone and make room for the next dude.  Your headstone doesn’t even have to be made of stone, it could be made of Styrofoam. You know the kind of headstone that you see in people’s front yards on Halloween. So that when the next generation picks up their kin, you can carry the headstone under one arm and the bones in a garbage bag as you leave the Head Stoner’s Office.

I bet Head Stoner : The Blahhg… could become as big as Brownstoner : The Blog Head Stoner will show available plots throughout the city. Beautiful recently emptied holes, already rich in nutrients, ready for your death.

The difference between Head Stoner: The Blahhg and Brownstoner: The Blog is barely discernible:.

Wealthy Entrepreneurs can go to Cemeteries and buy  out dead people. The Entrepreneur can buy the dead people from living family members who need some money to pay  for their own living  space.  Oh, wait a second, I already said that earlier. That’s O.K. I want you to see the future, and understand that I am kidding but that I’m not.

The bones and headstone are removed, and now the entrepreneur can rent those plots out for twenty years. Death Will become Rental. You wait and see.

Oh, and what happens to the bones that have been removed from their final resting place? “Here’s a garbage bag and there’s the incinerator. That will be 200 dollars please.”


Hmm…I bet if I started Head Stoner : The Blahhg. It could become bigger than Brownstoner…I think I will give it a shot.




Every Day Is Halloween, So Halloween is Every Day, But With Lots More Candy

Published October 31, 2013 by Larry Fisher


I wan t to start this Halloween by apologizing to the cast and crew of my web show,”Whose Life Is This Anyway?” I promised  episode 7 to Michael Stewart, Tyler Rackliffe, Will Slayton, William HoHauser , Stephen Villane, Dean Rispler, Rachel Maki and John Lyons a few weeks ago.  The episode will happen in a couple of weeks. I am sorry for the delay.  Here  is the new outline:

Episode 7 will be about a Flea Market corporation which takes over a smaller flea market that the “Dry Heaves” are selling at.”The Dry Heaves” are  selling old crap at a flea market in order to make money for their equipment, so that they can start rehearsing their old Death Metal band together and go on tour.

For those of you eavesdropping in on my notes to my crew, here is episode 6

In real life,  I am obsessed right now with Brooklyn Flea taking over the small schoolyard at P.S. 321. Can you tell?

I have written a horror story about it last night called ,”The Monstrological Society Presents: The Monster Dergby

I have blah, blah blahgged about the takeover, I have tried to write to write Journalists and other Bloggers about the story, and as the cast and crew know from “Whose Life Is This Anyway,” , once I become obsessed with something, I can stick with it for quite a while before I move on.

I also promised the screenplay called “Man Cave” to a few of you. That is still in the works. For those of you  know the story line, I had it completed but changed it to include a corporate takeover of a small flea market.  The story is about a middle aged man (me) dying of a heart attack after doing a yard sale, instead of going to his regular flea market because it was taken over by a Corporation that didn’t want “his kind.”

The dead man’s son,  a Medical Student  inherits the garage, known as “The Man Cave,” and finds out that the “Man Cave” has a quarter of a million dollars of value in it. The son decides to take a year off to sell the stuff.  His fiance and his mother are angry with him. His dad’s friends kidnap the man they blame for his father’s death and he has to deal with them wanting to kill the guy,” I just wanted the quarter of a million dollars to pay off student loans and to get married in Disneyland. I didn’t want to get involved with kidnapping.”

The captured man says,”Let me go and I will give you a deal on a great brownstone, 1.1 milion, right in a up and coming neighborhood.”

The son responds,”You, my father has been running away from guys like you all our life. You sucked the life right out of him and made my mom divorce him. Its guys like you, who think you are doing good and upgrading neighborhoods, but you left a lot people struggling.”

The son then hits the Corporate guy in the head.

As you guys know, I believe every day is Halloween in this city and in this world. I think the gentrification and the way in which the little flea market I worked in was taken over is a great example of the “trick” to the Halloween experience. The takeover resonates with  Yuppie Zombie infiltration.

Let’s take a step back for a moment. What is Halloween and why do people love Zombies? I just wrote this comment to “The Takeaway” with John Hockenberry this morning about Halloween and Zombies.

Here’s what I said,

Everybody has some Zombie blood in them. Zombies are popular because we are all Zombies to something we don’t understand about ourselves. Some people are Zombies to fashion, others to sports, others to money, some are now Zombies to everything Zombie. The bottom line is everybody has a life line or should I say a flat-line to Zombies…and the job of a Satirist is to watch society and see what zombification is happening in the world. Most Zombie writers are Satirists… I might have to write about a Satirist who gets bit by a Zombie…hmm

Humans like to be scared when they know it is safe. They believe fear will be conquered when they go on the roller coaster or through the haunted house. I do very well on roller coasters and haunted houses but a knock on the door when I am not expecting anyone can scare the hell out of me.

I hope everybody has a great Halloween. I hope you can all come out to the new flea market I am a part of at 20th street between 4th and 5th Avenue. I should be enough of a draw, but there will also be other vendors there with great stuff besides mine.

I just want to have fun. I will still be in a gorilla suit, I will be handing out flyers and saying,”Hey, I’m still in my gorilla suit from Halloween, Come on down to the flea market and help me save my life. I have projects to do and people to rip.


One of my favorite moments with my daughter was I shaved my beard off for Halloween, and my daughter whispered to her mother,”What happened to Dad’s face, was he in an accident?”

Enough with the tricks for today, let’s eat some candy!