We woke up to a few inches of the white stuff this morning… as the precip ended, the cleanup crews started to scour the neighborhood for a walk and driveway they could shovel for a few bucks.

I did our cleanup (we own a snowblower), but we have our own crew of workmen working on our garage today.

As usual, my racist dog growled at the black men shoveling for a buck, while she licked the hands of the white repairmen at our door. While we’re not a perfect family, we have managed to train the dog well!

In light of Facebook disabling my account for using an alias, I had to switch my account to my real name — Alec Baldwin! This has meant new “who are you” messages, but in a recent development, one of the odder messages I’ve ever received:

Um, if you’re thee A.B., then I have something to say: As a Lobbyist for a conservative thinktank in Washington, DC, your personal passion for all things unpatriotic and unAmerican is the biggest turnoff to me…and I want to dislike you…BUT…you are such a talented actor…not to mention a very, VERY sexy man…that I cannot help but hate to love you. Thank you for making my Thursday nights on 30 Rock, baby. Please, just stop the political rants–as ignorance is not your best feature–however, your eyes, hair, smile and quick witted banter are….just abosolutely sublime.

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Keeping with the theme of Anna Nicole Smith being the most important news of the year, I present to you two important video clips (and free Marxist rub down to whoever can figure out what drugs she’s on — and Jesus is not an acceptable answer):

The Article: An excellent article in New York magazine by Isaiah Wilner detailing the rise and fall of 27th Street.

Choice bits (since the article is long, read it at the New Yorker website):

Nightclubs were big business now. If you carried a black AmEx card, you could count on getting in, somewhere. “Bottle service—it was a killer,” one club worker recalls. “Because now you didn’t have to look right to get in. The owners didn’t care about the quality of the crowd. The bottom line was the money. It was, Sell those tables, sell those tables, up-sell, magnums, bottle minimums. And you now had—forgive me for saying it—every undesirable seated in a nightclub.”

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