Friday, April 3, 2015

April 3



Speaking of resurrections ... spotted this on St. Mark's Place today. Plenty of green left in this one. Why someone is throwing it out now is baffling. This year's winner receives a bottle of Dom Pérignon rosé (1962 vintage).

10 comments:

  1. The Post cover really makes this shot sing.

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  2. So Peter Brant, notorious purveyor of rose champagne, is exposed as a front operation for Gruber Macdougal and his Rego Park henchmen.

    The moneylaundering gangsters of the International Coalition of Tree Tossing in the Spring must have been smoking something funny during their winter break in Boca Raton this year.

    Did they really imagine that the DIA Foundation and Dom Perignon would be convincing as lures in their tedious game of bait-&-switch?

    Come on, Gruber, you senile, false-Scottish, wannabe hoodlum. This one is really lame. You fool nobody, you delusional megalomaniac -- about as subtle as Wile E Coyote!

    Beep, Beep.

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  3. but really,
    this has got to be a tree from a photo shoot or something cut more recently. there is no way a cut tree would keep this long !

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  4. I suspect foul play !
    someone wants that bottle of Dom !

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  5. Eden - where are you? We miss you.

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  6. I saw another one just this green last week, on 6th street between A and B. Sadly, I failed to document it.

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  7. Ken from Ken's KitchenApril 4, 2015 at 10:52 AM

    Dead trees don't talk.

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  8. Gruber seems misunderstood. Can you have James Maher interview him for an Out and About in the EV feature?

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  9. Someone obviously has a secret tree farm in their back yard just to they can impress us with these fresh-cut trees all year round.

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  10. @Goggla...

    "...Someone obviously has a secret tree farm..."

    Yes, obviously! and the name of that "someone" is Gruber Macdougal himself!

    Purporting to offer a prize for last tree of the season, he rigs the competition so that his tree from his own secret tree farm is always the last, while at the same time he uses his nefarious ICTTS front operation for a giant money-laundering numbers-running narcotics-peddling protection racket.

    Get back to the sleazy poolhalls and rotten speakeasies of Rego Park in your fake tartan wannabe kilt, Macdougal. Who do you think you are? Sean Connery?

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