A new shop recently opened in the Domestic Construction community garden space called The Perfect Nothing Catalog: a store and space for art and non-art by local artists and non-artists dealing summer supplies: knives, bathing suits, rocks and herbs, ceramics and surf and skate stuff. Set in an abandoned shack, The Nothing will be hosting artists and non-artists in a series of micro-residencies throughout the summer. Offering a small work space, garden access, and event opportunities.
Check it out at 216 India Street Wednesday through Saturday from 12-8.
Proletariat, beer bar behind Jane’s Sweet Buns @proletariatny (Taken with Instagram at Proletariat)
Hard to find beers, beer cocktails on tap, playing Snoop Dogg, and a bathroom wallpapered with old pictures of Russian prison tattoos. Add to that how it can be found behind a bakery serving pastries inspired by cocktails, and you have everyone ever’s dream spot. Check their beer menu here or scan the QR code with your phone when you get there. It’s only been open a couple weeks, so the bathroom is in good shape. It’s down at the end of the very narrow bar. Those people you have to shove past dont mind being rubbed up against one bit. Its that kind of place.
Some things never change. I mean, um, stand up for what you believe in.
Check out this picture of a rally in Union Square in 1912 next to a pic from yesterday’s May Day, courtesy of The Atlantic.
Don’t Be A Fucking Asshole on the NYC Subway
I’d like to launch an awareness campaign aimed at rude New Yorkers, written in a style they’ll understand, so that one day, maybe, they won’t be quite so shitty.
I should note that most New Yorkers are completely wonderful, caring people. It’s just that some of us seem to enjoy the “New Yorkers are assholes” thing a bit too much.
Check out some photos that Stanley Kubrick took on the NYC subway for LOOK magazine in 1946, courtesy of the Museum of the City of New York.
Bummer
A ruling last month in a lawsuit that an out-of-state beer importer brought against the New York State Liquor Authority has ended a major tax and fee exemption for small brewers in the state, which will cost them millions of dollars in previously-waived costs.
The lawsuit was filed by Massachusetts-based Shelton Brothers in the wake of the SLA’s rejection of a handful of Ridgeway beer labels in 2006 on the grounds that they would appeal to underage drinkers. The importer claimed First Amendment rights were violated by the Authority’s censorship of the labels, but then went one step further to also challenge the Constitutionality of the Authority’s label registration fees and excise taxes, which were levied for all out-of-state brewers and waived for small in-state brewers.
To resolve the lawsuit, the State Liquor Authority issued new rules [PDF] two weeks ago that lifted the 12-year old excise tax exemption, which applied to the first 200,000 barrels of beer brewed by in-state brewers. Since all but two in-state brewers brew less than that amount, nearly every drop of beer brewed by a New York craft brewery was previously not taxed by the state. It now will be, effective immediately, and retroactive to March 28th. In addition, the authority has re-imposed the $150 label registration fee that was previously waived on in-state batches of beer smaller than 1,500 barrels. Many of New York’s smallest brewers will be subject to this fee for the first time.
Spotted in Williamsburg near Berry and N. 7th.
When you first get to New York you disdain Midtown bars, and not without good reason. They are expensive, ugly, dull-beered, covered in televisions, caked in a phony Irish.
After you’re in New York for a while you start to like Midtown bars, or at least I do, I shouldn’t speak for you. They are filled with schlubs and penny-ante lotharios, with forty-something middle-managers trying to get drunk enough to fuck each other, with legit sports dopes, with earnest hipsters of lesser cities (St. Louis? Wichita?) who clearly have no idea where it is they’re supposed to go.
These people are much more compelling than the Brooklyn shithead cadre into which it’s too easy to seal yourself, because these people are the last true dum-dums in all of Manhattan. They’re precious at this point. It is amazing that you are allowed to touch them and talk to them.
This bar is at 55th and 5th and everyone inside of it laughs like a horse.
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E.B. White, Here is New York (1949) (via alanataylor) |











