Free on Craigslist

Today we begin with a scorned lover giving away a designer handbag and art supplies...

MARCJACOBS BAG AND ART SUPPLIES ++MUST GO!!! free!! (SoHo)

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Reply to: sale-900254651@craigslist.org ^[?]
Date: 2008-10-31, 1:37AM EDT

I HAVE A SHIT LOAD OF ART SUPPLIES I BOUGHT FOR A GIRL, WE ARE NO LONGER TALKING AND IT BREAKS MY HEART TO LOOK AT IT SO IM TRYING TO GET RID OF ALL OF IT asap. PICK UP ONLY, IM GIVING ALL THIS AWAY THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS COME PICK IT UP I LIVE OFF SPRING (soho)EMAIL ME FOR INFO. PLEASE LET ME CLEARIFY, IM NOT TRYING TO GIVE THIS AWAY TO SOMEONE WHO COULD EASILY GO BUY THIS STUFF IN A STORE AND IM ALSO NOT TRYING TO GIVE IT TO YOUR GRANDKIDS, THIS IS PROFESSIONAL /LEGIT ART EQUIPTMENT NOT REALLY CHILDS PLAY.. AS FOR THE PURSE IF YOU HAVE 10 IN YOUR CLOSET AND YOU WANT TO SEND A MESSANGER TO COME PICK IT UP...DONT EVEN BOTHER HOW SELFISH CAN YOU BE??? THATS WHY I REPOSTED THIS.
THANKS AND SORRY FOR THE CONFUSION EARLIER.

+double sided easle
+over 15 tube paints.
+10 brushes(pony hair)
+Paint palette w/ thumb hole.

also im getting rid of the marc jacobs purse i bought her (100% legit and real) its black and extremely classy.
remember none of this is used they were birthday presents and i just cant stand to look at them any longer.

please give me a shout and let me know when you can pick it up the sooner the better. this is no scam i seriously just need this shit out of my apt. and dont want to waste time selling it.

• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 900254651

Turns of Phrase

by Gregory Hurley
Owing to my interest in words and how people use them:

"Bible-ink"

the vehicle through which acts and words are made true and permanent?
an inherently good indicator often ironically juxtaposed to reveal an evil?

i made this up and it sounds nifty...but what does it mean?
i want to know what "Bible-ink" would mean to you...what significance do these words together hold for you; how do YOU react?

"The pastor's words flowed like Bible-ink among the leaves of the great oak under which his congregation stood, transfixed."

ok, maybe, but

"Crisp and gray, geometric clouds of another world were they: the carved letters of the headstone were immutable as the ink in a Bible to Darla Snicker and her son."

hmm, similar, now...

click for the passage i hastily penned wherein i came up with this crap:
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so i got back up onto my knees and finally my feet but they hurt and this thing was eight pieces of junk and chickenwire. a '65 hood with the '66 hinges stuck out over the grille like every hick's buckteeth i'd seen this side of the Alleghenies. i was mad and finished tossin around since the Levi's were already cozy with my dirty hands today, and this is exactly what Merv wanted. time for the pitch. bad joke. now and not before was when Earthshaker saw me not looking at him and offered uneasily, "We-lll! Ha!" no-lies now. "No lies for ya son, we figger ahhhh, hunnert or two, two, ah, thrrrrough-" and then he was looking dead straight behind my ear so i ducked. the ground hit my chest and everything rolls, twice. my eyes are boxing gloves and they are ready and the Colt is a missing limb found now and then it is over. dust returns from its terrible hiatus in the air and all 304 pounds of Shaker is gone in my Nova. fucking how? later. this guy's sixteen years old and still holding a nailed up baseball bat: "'Badger' Basson's 500th!" his blood is on a hotrod in hell but up here it still slowly spills, carves the dirt dooryard like bible ink. I don't have my keys, either.

FIN

Shy to Lock Up Jew Bashers

by Monica Morrison
An observation regarding the impending bigotry at the apex of the financial crisis and the great "pro-America" divide.

When this financial crisis rippled its way from the derivatives to the U.S. real estate market and beyond to the rest of the universe, I began to wait for the other shoe to drop. You know, the Jew-hating shoe.

Those of us who paid attention in history class will be wise to remember the German depression of the early 1900's. After WWI, the economy was in shambles, and hatred for money-lenders was reaching an all-time high. Back then, money-lending was an abominable practice, relegated to only the cruel, the heartless, and to Jewish people. God-fearing Christians back then were still reading and going to church, so they knew that usury was a sin. And so, when the entire economy collapsed, the connection of usury to all of Germany's problems became the popular tome of the time. And then a guy like Hitler came along, rode the wave of popular Jewish resentment, and the rest is history.

My grandfather came to this country as a child--he and his parents fled Hitler-controlled Berlin just in time and came to be Americans. All of the pain that came along with the anti-Semitism that ravaged the country caused my grandfather to deny his cultural heritage throughout all of his life. He changed his name from Lapsenberg to Newman. He had to become a different person to escape the persecution. As a result, I never knew about my Jewish heritage until after he died. I have so many questions for him that I will never be able to ask, and while perhaps I could have figured out how to ask the right questions to him, part of me knows that irrational hatred was a large factor in our stifled communication about my ancestry. The effects of bigotry are vast and long-lasting, and even small amounts of hate can torment those who are powerless to stop it. And so, I cringed when I noticed it beginning again here in America, in New York City no less.

http://www.nydailynews.com/money/2008/10/26/2008-10-26_cant_sell_bushwick_home__now_shes_in_for.html

Here is an article about the mortgage crisis affecting Brooklyn. Robert Gearty profiles a female postal worker trying to sell what was once an $800,000 multi-family building now that she has fallen behind on her mortgage payments. She is entering foreclosure and the asking price has been slashed to $540,000. In case they take the comments down for being offensive, they are pasted here:

"Oct 26, 2008 8:18:03 PM

Aww too bad she's not a jew, hear about any of them dirtbags in this siutation???? Didn't think so. if you're a jew life is good, your a thief and a scourge, but a well off jew is still a bloodsucking jew. too bad we are all their victims..."

"Oct 26, 2008 8:19:21 PM
Oh, and by the way, do you think the jew advisor/banker properly explained the consequences to this poor lady. I really doubt it, they took her money and headed for jewburg"

While I haven't heard much anti-semitism in the streets of good ol' Jew York City, I can only begin to imagine how those in the South and in traditional anti-Jewish parts of the country (not to be confused with the anti-America parts of the country) are beginning to feel. Part of what must make it so easy now for the bigots is hearing assholes like Richard S. Fuld, Jr. not apologize for any of this. By refusing to inject any sort of humanity or compassion into any of their self-serving billionaised discourse, they are only making it easier to pass the blame right to the same people who always end up with it. Part of my deepest fear of a conservative government is the fascism that conservatism seems to attract. After Barack wins the election and the conservatives are shipped out of Washington, I wonder what may be bound to come next. Something tells me that the backlash may be nastier than any of us thought possible in the land of freedom and pursuit of happiness. I just hope they don't take all of us from "anti-America" and put us into Pro America Reassimilation Camps.

Open Letter to the U.S. Government

by Monica Morrison
Perhaps if I could afford nice stationery, someone would actually read it.
More...

Dear America,

I've been reading a lot about investment in alternative energy stalling because of the credit freeze. I also read about the prospect of another stimulus package, and talks about more tax cuts. It's all a bunch of hooey. This letter is going to be short, and to the point, but I need to get something off my chest about all the "problems" all you legislators and shadow-market creators seem to be having with the "economy." Here is my proposal to fix a few of the problems.

1. Remove all Subsidies and Legalize Hemp

America is the richest nation in natural resources, and by subsidizing the most nutrient-poor crops, we have secured a future that includes lots of High Fructose Corn Syrup and vegetable oil-powered automobiles. Restructuring the farm bill in a way that will either subsidize nutritious or environmentally friendly products, or simply remove subsidies from failed industries will have a huge impact on the cost we pay for food. Also, for reasons that are seemingly infinite, we should legalize hemp. Our forefathers used it. We should use it too.

2. Allow Americans to invest a portion of their taxes into alternative energy startups, infastructure investments, or R&D for new energy or biomedical technologies.

Since banks will no longer support these important parts of our economy, why not put the power in the hands of the people? Set up a system where Americans can buy in with the help of the government, and assist in the creation of the new infastructure that will lead us into the 21st century. This way, consensus and common knowledge will have a much larger impact on the things that end up getting financed, and consumers will be able to finance projects that benefit them. There will be no "Bridges to Nowhere" unless those bridges are needed. And, after the initial investment, taxpayers could start to see dividends from the projects they helped launch. I'd rather have the $700 Billion spent this way instead of putting any more trust into a failed system of a free market (Hello, Hank "Goldman Clusterfuck" Paulson '68! [my Dartmouth commencement speaker, for those of you who weren't there]).

The interesting part about this idea is that it makes paying taxes more enticing than stuffing your coffers into a bank vault on the coast of the Cayman Islands. Oh yeah, you should also make all of that offshore tax evasion crap illegal. But you knew that already.

3. Trains, Trains, Trains. Everywhere. In every city. Mag-levs across the nation. Again, let taxpayers buy into it. And let them rake in the profits once everyone starts using them.

That is all.

Love,
Monica

Free on Craigslist

by Monica Morrison
You can give them to the birds and bees.

Now, I realize that times are hard for many, and some of you may be asking yourselves whether or not the future holds anything for you. Well, the future probably does not offer much in terms of employment, shelter, or comfort, but it will certainly hold for you everything you can carry off of Craigslist. I know that no matter how bad things get, there will always be something for me here, in the fertile cradle of internet classifieds. Getting good at scavenging shall become the new magic trick.

I wish I picked up all of this crap for a living.


His name is Ed. He is "[p]erfect for holding fliers for a business establishment, or just ...sitting in a corner."
potentially racist sculpture



This beauty "handles well and moves gingerly." If you can scrounge up a thousand dollars, they'll also throw in a motor. Last sailed on 10/10, currently located in Easthampton. Better hurry, before this hedge fund dude loses his job and has to live in it. Oh yeah, it sleeps four "in a pinch."
24' working sailboat



Just in case you were missing the swill they gave you at the job you used to have.
crappy coffee




This one is for those who need to store the weapons they accumulated for the militia upstate. You know, for when the revolution comes.
safe for the apocalypse



If you put casters on this, you would be the most awesome person peddling for quarters outside the Starbucks.
sickies wicker chair



For those interested in some industrial/marine decor...
steel poles filled with concrete



And finally, for the culinarily and agriculturally adventurous, I bring you yucca.
grow yr own yucca

Click Me Off

by Monica Morrison
Best of the Internet, October 9, 2008

It's like the American economy in apartment form.
I've been wanting to see this in a meme website for at least a month.
"DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!" "Yes Sir, you are a huge dick."

Manchurian Wok

by Monica Morrison
Regarding that bad taste in the mouth, the campaign of John McCain, and the elusive search for a hangover cure.


















Last night was the night of the second debate. I watched half in my apartment playing an unrelated drinking game familiar to many Dartmouth students. For the other half, I was drowning my sorrows in a $7 pitcher of beer, chased with fresh hot dogs at Rudy's. Watching on a projection screen backed up against the Hell's Kitchen tenements in my neighborhood, there was a palpable disconnect between the candidates and the audience. Nobody cared to watch. Rightly so--it was boring. With Sarah Palin inciting racial hatred and launching mob-style public defamation and witch-hunting, how can anyone concentrate on anything other than the fact that John McCain just looks really, really, really old?

More...


Obama's words melted into the miasma of chatter about whether or not John McCain is insane. How can he cut through the Republican spew-fire of garbage that is both thrilling and terrifying to watch? Being governed by "these ones" feels a little like constantly being in a high-action suspense thriller. Every moment is living on the edge, every moment we spend looking behind us to see what is creeping up behind our backs. Now they have people chanting to murder the candidate. This is not democracy, it is a horrorshow. Is this what fascism feels like?

To get the crowd focused on something other than impending doom and danger, I believe in a solution that worked for centuries in the great sports halls of this world, from the Colusseum to Fenway Park. I suggest that Obama perform warm-ups in a nearby gym with fans as his spectators. We'll get to watch him ball one-on-one with Reggie Love before he rips off his sweats, staightens his tie, slips on a suit jacket and joins McCain without a hair out of place. We would be lying at this point to suggest that this election is true democratic process and not spectacle or political theater. The progression of politics in the past eight years to propogandist "branding" and "marketing" machines is alarming. But if it is what it is, let's roll with it and put Obama on a box of cereal swooshing a three-pointer.

But all of these suggestions likely come to you in such frank form because of my form while I was out yesterday evening. I ended the night double-fisting with a glass of Southern Comfort and a glass of water at fellow Panarchist Eric Lindley's concert on the Lower East Side. It was a lovely night, but the morning and afternoon today have not been as kind. With a terrible feeling no pill can cure, I sat at work clinging to my desk while trying to read through contracts and online newspapers. I needed help. Desperate times like these call for desperate solutions.

We usually claim superiority over the Rockefeller Center concourse, knowing that we deserve better. We do not need a mall-- we have Manhattan. We do not go for the same reason that we know we are worth more than we earn, that we are capable of more than our jobs! We have the right to a lunch that does not come from a strip mall in the basement of our building, and it is important in times like these to not forget this. But not today. Today I am like everyone else. Today I have momentarily collapsed into despair and tumbled off my pillar of self respect. I was starving, but weak. I couldn't bring myself to step outside, so I crawled into the concourse with Draguar and trudged past the Manchu Wok.

"Wait, do you want to get Chinese Food?"

"Chinese food-- ugh. I thought we were going to get pizza."

"Yeah, you're right. Pizza is good. But the Manchu Wok smells delicious!"

"I mean, I don't know about delicious, but it smells alright."

"Oh shit, those pretzels smell delicious. Wait, do you want to get pretzels?"

"Yeah I mean we could get some pretzels, the pretzels do smell delicious."

And so we held our noses, resisted temptation, didn't cave to the flashy neon and savory smells. We walked, heads held high to the pizza kiosk. And the line snaked around the tiny joint, as suit after suit queued up to receive offerings of exotically topped, thematically named slices. We determined that no amount of self loathing can justify waiting for such sustenance. Such a display in order to receive nourishment is an insult. We determined that since all options were indeed similarly uninspiring, we may as well accept the food that is ready to be served us. We went back to the Wok.

At the Wok, there were two chances to choose our fate. We could choose breaded, unbreaded, Tso'ed, Orange ("made with real Oranges!"), Sweet, Sour, or Both. "All of the Above" was an option that was definitely implied by The Man with the Ladle. The second choice was fried rice or fried noodle, and judging by the caloric description, the increased surface area of rice in the pan had devastating effects on the nutritional value. So there I sat, in a crowded atrium, slurping bland oily noodles and crunching on the occasional gifted carrot strip. The strip did not begin to cut through the film on my tongue from the flavored chicken pieces. This was not a day meant for singing. Not a day meant for joy. This was a day to be savored like one might savor plunging a toilet. And in that way, Manchu Wok was perfect. I just hope that John McCain isn't the greasy solution to America's hangover.

Here's to Hope. I could stand to have a little arugula.