We almost never even sniff that sweaty stench of trembling intimidation in the excellent postings on this blog. So it is a sign of the overweening power of that shadowy front operation I.C.T.T.S. (International Coalition of Tree Tossing in the Spring) and its psychotic henchman and enforcer Gruber MacDougal, that even the usually fearless EV Grieve had to resort to a little-noticed comment in a four-day old post yesterday to let is slip that MacDougal’s next target in his spreading empire of shakedown and surveillance might be…
…TIME WARNER CABLE itself!
Now we get this brown little gem on Tenth Street. Is that a Con Edison truck next to it? CON EDISON too! Note that there is no newspaper or self-phone here to verify time and day. This has all the hallmarks of obvious entrapment, a devious sting operation by the money-grubbing Gruber and his Rego Park cronies. He is nothing more than a low-rent cat-stroking villain, straight out of central casting from a James Bond movie. Walk away, people, walk away. This stinks to high heaven.
4 comments:
We almost never even sniff that sweaty stench of trembling intimidation in the excellent postings on this blog. So it is a sign of the overweening power of that shadowy front operation I.C.T.T.S. (International Coalition of Tree Tossing in the Spring) and its psychotic henchman and enforcer Gruber MacDougal, that even the usually fearless EV Grieve had to resort to a little-noticed comment in a four-day old post yesterday to let is slip that MacDougal’s next target in his spreading empire of shakedown and surveillance might be…
…TIME WARNER CABLE itself!
Now we get this brown little gem on Tenth Street. Is that a Con Edison truck next to it? CON EDISON too! Note that there is no newspaper or self-phone here to verify time and day. This has all the hallmarks of obvious entrapment, a devious sting operation by the money-grubbing Gruber and his Rego Park cronies. He is nothing more than a low-rent cat-stroking villain, straight out of central casting from a James Bond movie. Walk away, people, walk away. This stinks to high heaven.
That's a Christmas miracle right there.
ON MY WAY BACK.
Aren't you supposed to photograph it with a New York Times next to it for verisimilitude?
Post a Comment