vic fortezza

The above are The Cleveland Five, members of Ohio's Occupy Wall Street movement, who didn't think enough was being done, so they decided to blow up a bridge. Fortunately, they proved incompetent at detonating the explosive devices they used. I guess they should've used the new underwear bomb Al Qaeda has developed. Rich Lowry's op-ed piece, syndicated in today's NY Post, focused on the creeps, the only information I've seen on this troubling story. I wonder how much press coverage this would be getting if the felons were right-wingers. Here's a picture of the bridge they tried to take down: RIP Maurice Sendak, 83, a superb illustrator who has had more than 50 children's books published. Like me, he was born in Bensonhurst and is a graduate of Lafayette H.S.. Unlike me, his books have sold in the millions. His most loved, Where the Wild Things Are, has sold 17 million copies. He makes all alums (Redmen) proud. Well done, sir. I got lucky today in more ways than one. I accompanied a handicapped woman to the dentist, earning money I wouldn't have made at the floating book shop, given the rain. I also ran into Maria, who was scheduled for a tooth extraction. She has finally moved from the house she lived in for 22 years. She avoided foreclosure but had to sell at a far lower price than she would have liked. Still, she doesn't owe any money. She has moved to an apartment in Bensonhurst, a few...

As I was walking to my car, six Russian books in tow, I noticed that Roberto and Luis were working in the garden that surrounds the building where I usually set up the floating book shop. I decided not to get in their way, especially since the forecast called for rain, so I dropped my wares directly from my trunk to the curb. The results were good. Kayla, attractive, 30-something, bought A Hitch in Twilight. She'd just been picking flowers, at least the purple bulbs. I also sold three of those Russian books. And a woman purchased several children's books. Thanks, folks. Joan, who uses a walker, stopped by and asked if I'd be interested in taking her to the cemetery in Staten Island where her parents are buried. I won't decide until she comes up with what she thinks will be a fair fee. Heck, these days a full tank of gas might be enough. The toll alone is $13. I'd do it if she bought all four of my books. She is an avid reader who has balked at the ten dollar price tag for my works. Rather than purchase A Hitch in Twilight, she will be borrowing it when Marie, who lives in the same building, is done reading her copy. Later, one of the porters stopped by and asked if I was interested in encyclopedias. He purchased a set in 1995 for $2500. Of course, they have sort of been made obsolete by PCs. I suggested he...

There are many nice surprises in life. Such was the case today when I played hooky on the golf course with my buddy Cuz, our third round of the season. I did not play last year because of hip pain. Given that it had been a year and a half since I'd taken to the links, I wondered if I'd ever break 90 again. I did so this afternoon at Forest Park in Queens. I don't know if it was because of low expectations, but I'd never felt more relaxed on the course. I felt my gut contract with anxiety only once, and that was due to slow play, which allows too much time for thinking negative thoughts. My concentration was as good as it ever gets. I didn't duff any shots until the last hole. And my ball-striking was so consistent. I didn't make any birdies, but I was either on the green or near it in regulation each hole but the last. The prior week I scored better (92) than I played, as I dropped in four long putts. This week it was just the opposite. I had two three-putts, and I failed to get a tough uphill pitch to hold the sloping 17th green. I nearly blew it on 18, but managed to put a long putt that traveled through a swale inches from the cup, and came in at 89. Cuz struggled mightily again, hitting the century mark, although he showed signs of regaining his form on...

The sportswriter I respect most, Phil Mushnick, is under fire for comments he made Friday in his column in the NY Post. For years he has concentrated his criticism on the sports media, chiefly television, exposing the sins of the likes of Cablevision, which owns the Knicks and Rangers, Nike, the local pro teams ticket-gouging practices, the networks' transparent adoration of Tiger Woods, and much more. He has been fearless in taking on racial hucksters, especially Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson. The column in question took on record mogul JAYZ, whom he has criticized many times through the years, saying, essentially, that he made his millions denigrating blacks and women. The only things I know about JAYZ's work is what I've read in those columns. I've never heard any track of his, so I won't comment on his work, especially since, as a writer, I deplore any form of censorship. In the column in question, Mushnick suggests the Nets, owned in part by JAYZ, be called the NY N_____(Mushnick used the dash in the column), the cheerleaders the Brooklyn Ho's, and that the logo be a 9mm Glock with shell casings all around it, words and images JAYZ has used frequently in his recordings. This unleashed a firestorm and has many calling for his termination. He is being dubbed a racist by many who have not called JAYZ to account for his use of such terms and images. To me, Mushnick is one of the few journalists who will cite the...

Sad news out of the music world today. Brooklyn's own Adam Yauch, 47, founding member of the Beastie Boys, has succumbed to cancer. I'm not going to pretend to be hip about rap. In fact, I find a lot of what I hear from passing car stereos absolutely appalling. Years ago I did enjoy a couple of funny tracks and their accompanying videos, Will Smith's I Think I Can Beat Mike Tyson and Tone Loc's Funky Cold Medina, but I don't know enough about the genre to comment on its worth as art. The Beastie Boys were the first rap artists to reach number one on Billboard's charts (Licensed to Ill, 1987). They've won three Grammys and several other awards. I can only name four of their tracks: Sure Shot and Sabotage seem pure hip hop. If I were younger, they would probably be among my favorites. One of my favorite lines in rock 'n roll comes from You Gotta Fight for Your Right to Party, even though I hate tobacco products: "Your dad caught you smokin' and he said no way,/but that hypocrite smokes two packs a day." I am not fond of the fourth song: No Sleep 'til Brooklyn, despite the fact that it mentions my beloved home. Yauch, aka MCA, was too ill to attend the ceremony when the group was inducted into the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame. Sometimes life is not fair even to the famous. Rest in peace. Ya did good, kid. It was...