September 2009

–Neighborhood Obituary, September 23rd, 2009–

Mr. S. Rat, Aged 2

He is survived by his 3,406 brothers and 2,011 sisters. Funeral services will be held at 3 am tomorrow in a dank subterranean burrow just below the sidewalk, followed by a memorial dinner to be held in the garbage cans lining 4th Avenue, including Megan’s. In lieu of memorial offerings, the family has asked that mourners leave tiny fetid rat turds in and around the garbage areas following the memorial dinner.

May he rest in peace.


Scene of fierce hand-to-hand fighting during Revolutionary War, as the British tried to stop the hoardes of terrified people from spilling down from the hills of what’s now Prospect Park as they tried to reach the Gowanus and cross it without drowning or being speared to a tree by Hessian mercenaries – as some of their friends had just been. And you thought *you* were having a hard day…

"As a neuroanatomist, I must say that I learned as much about my brain and how it functions during that stroke, as I had in all my years of academia. By the end of that morning, my consciousness shifted into a perception that I was at *one* with the universe. Since that time, I have come to understand how it is that we are capable of having a ‘mystical’ or ‘metaphysical’ experience – relative to our brain anatomy."

– Jill Bolte Taylor, Ph.D in "My Stroke of Genius: A Brain Scientist’s Personal Journey’

Meet Gilda. Fifty pounds of hard-shelled realness. M’kayyy?

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