I just crashed a power meeting. 4 business people, sharply dressed, attempting to hog a table at the Starbucks, hogging it for future occupancy with only 3 people at a table built for 8, but looking with uncomfortable chagrin at the interlopers who park their butts at the other end of this handsome piece of furniture. I crashed the power meeting. They dispersed, mumbling that there was not as much room here as they expected… it’s a crowded Starbucks, you entitled douchebags. Make room.
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A coin deposit of $100 today and $90.50 yesterday leaves me with a queer feeling about the abundance of courtesy extended to me as I enter a particular Chase Bank and go about my business. Why are they so comprehensively nice, so deeply immersed in the Customer Service Experience?
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Nothing extinguishes my confidence in humanity more abruptly and more completely than the comment boards that so commonly litter the entrails of journalism and content both high quality and innocuous. An article about a new Olive Garden opening in Queens drew a comment from someone requesting a bike lane be carved out between his residence and the new dining establishment, along with center-placed lanes right up the middle of Queens Boulevard. Another story about how web site outages cause seemingly absurd levels of concern and anxiety when compared to brick and mortar shops closing early for the day drew hackles of disdain toward anyone who gives a shit whenamazon or the NYT.com sites are unreachable, you should get a life you fucking losers for giving a shit about web site outages. The air is warm and the breezes wet in these little comment board ecosystems, each one unique yet pestered by the same generic condescension.
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I might try to reach out to Nick Beef. I only learend of the Nick Beef “mystery” a few months ago. The mystery was oslved last week in a NY piece revealing the identity of the mysterious Mr. Beef. A gravestone with the name Nick Beef sits next to that of Lee Harvey Oswald, the alleged assassin of John F. Kennedy. For decades no one knew who placed the stone or why, but rumors of an association between it and a standup comedian whose stage name was Nick Beef left me thinking it was a tasteless joke, the sort of thing comedians today do when they ridicule their audience as a form of comedy, using the anxieties and predictabilities of paying attendees to bring attention to themselves. If the stone was placed as a joke then I would have found it dismal, like the worst comedian failing at standup, crashing and crashing into tailspin.
As it happens there is no clear reason this individual bought the stone. He bought the plot as a young man, facing a life of uncertainty born of a lifelong connection to the assassination of the president. He bought the plot to establish and maintain a connection to that event.
He also hangs out at Calvary Cemetery, as do I. Are we kindred spirits? Hah, probably not, but I might drop him a note anyway.
