loosie: words: Hand of God

Hand of God

Kiss the summer goodbye with Bruce Ratner's racial chicanery, the destruction of the Red Sox and Young Dro.

by Staff | 2006.08.25

Thumbs down to the unholy alliance between Bruce Ratner and ACORN. On Wednesday, August 23, hordes of Brooklynites lined up on Jay Street for their chance to publicly voice their opinions on the proposed Atlantic Yards monstrosity. The scene that unfolded was a testament to Ratner’s morally reprehensible but stunningly effective gambit of driving a racial wedge between working-class minorities and the middle-class opposition to his arena, luxury high-rises and corporate towers of Babel. Clad in red ACORN T-shirts, a swarm of largely brown faces carried signs lauding the project’s dubious claims of affordable housing (mostly going to people who earn over $70,000 a year) and job creation (mostly going to union construction gigs). Led by a costumed man in a golden hardhat, the group sang and danced in rapturous joy as if Ratner was a snowy-skinned Ohioan Jesus. Inside, the ACORN reps booed and shouted at anyone who took to the podium to criticize the scale of a development that will defecate 15,000 inhabitants upon downtown Brooklyn and create the most densely populated area in the United States. The money-greased relationship between ACORN honcho Bertha Lewis and Ratner has been widely-documented, but there’s more: according to rumors fluttering around Jay Street, those masses of red-shirted activists were random motherfuckers paid to show up, given ACORN shirts and told to loudly endorse the construction. And if that’s the case, there’s little doubt that those checks were ultimately cut from Ratner’s bottomless pockets. We don’t hold ACORN to different standards than any of the corrupt politicians and legacy-hungry councilmen who have green-lighted this repulsive project, we just think it’s filthy that anyone concerned about the environmental effects of dropping a phalanx of skyscrapers on downtown Brooklyn is being portrayed as a yuppie gentrifier more worried about preserving an urban oasis of coffee shops and organic vegetable markets than the plight of impoverished minorities. Okay, a lot of them are – but that doesn’t make Ratner’s land-grab any less hideous. Since this is way longer than a Hand of God entry is supposed to be, we'll end it with a quote from the people's champ, City Councilman Charles Barron: "It’s environmentally disastrous for us, meaning the pollution, the congestion. The affordable housing is nonsense. Maybe 20 percent is low-income, but 50 percent is luxury, so it’s instant gentrification. There’s not enough open space, not enough schools, firehouses, to go with this new community. This project makes no sense for the community and 100 percent sense for the developer." Talk to 'em.

Thumbs up to the Yankees’ five-game sweep of the Red Sox. Without Boston in the post-season, we’ll be spared endless live footage of ruddy-faced BoSox faithful swigging Sam Adams and screaming about Kevin Youkilis from O’Flattery’s Pub. Maybe John Kerry will also disappear meekly

Thumbs up to Young Dro’s Best Thang Smokin’. His summer single “Shoulder Lean” only barely dented New York’s consciousness, but Dro’s debut album introduces a rapper of beast-like abilities. He has the guttural growl of Juvenile, the rapid-syllable delivery of Big Pun and a Ghostface-esque penchant for describing things in terms of colors, flavors and produce fresh outta Fairway. Check “Presidential”, “Gangsta” or “Hear Me Cry” if you’re slumbering.

Thumbs down to whoever stole Mac Dre’s headstone from Oakland’s Mountain View Cemetary. We can only pray that it wasn’t some hipsters trying to ghostride their mom’s Wagoneer with the ultimate accessory in the passenger seat. A $10,000 reward for information has been issued by fellow hyphy dude AP.9, so hopefully the polyandrium pilferers will swiftly be brought to street justice.

Thumbs up to the perfect summer-ending storm of Fashion Week, the VMA’s and the Caribbean Day Parade. If you combine them, you get Sean Paul – only less annoying and without those tattered-ass jeans he thinks are fresco.

Thumbs down to the death of Crown Heights numbers-runner Ramon. Earlier this week, the elderly gentleman, who could always be found traversing Franklin Avenue from bodega to bodega, fell to his death from a four-story building. Whether accidental or self-inflicted, it’s sad that his only legacy is a cardboard box filled with candles and inscribed with words of remembrance from neighbors. Rest in peace, man.

Thumbs up to the Walkmen performing at McCarren Pool this Sunday. They’re good.