Here’s my column for the November issue of the UndiePress. This time, my book-collecting brush with celebrity. Forget what I’ve written in the past. This is, without a doubt, my BEST. COLUMN. EVER.

I know I’ve insinuated that before but I really mean it this time.

Greece Beats Ireland for Worst Deficit in Europe

You go, Greece! You’re #1! I’m no economist, but perhaps tax-dodging shouldn’t be part of your national culture. I’m just saying.

I had occasion to walk through Rockefeller Center last week. I was there for an interview. The center is filled with a series of beautiful murals that were commissioned by the Rockefellers in the ’30s during construction. The most notorious was a work done by Diego Rivera. In the sketches he submitted for approval, Rivera forgot to mention that he was going to include scenes from the Communist May Day celebrations and a portrait of Lenin. A small detail. When Nelson Rockefeller discovered what he did, the work was promptly covered up.

My favorite murals are not in the main building, 30 Rock, (although those are pretty great and worth checking out). One block south at 48th and Rockefeller Plaza are murals that are so sexually charged that I can’t believe they weren’t covered over along with old Lenin.

(I’ve loaded these pics larger than normal so you can click on them and give them a good look if you’re interested.)

This mural is on the south wall. I don’t know what the hell it this. Progress? It’s a small touch but I like how the movement of the plane propellers are depicted as thin circles (as on the next mural, as well).

What’s really kind of wonderfully bizarre is how these women’s bodies are depicted. The breasts are clearly very bad implants. They’re also too angled and toned. Even their faces are tight.

This mural is on the west wall. It depicts the history of transportation. I think. Again, I’m not even sure.

I can’t get past the reclining woman in the upper right corner. Clearly, she is in the throws of ecstasy. And so submissive! Fantastic.

This post is pure daddy blog drivel. It’s the type of thing I pass over if I’m behind in my Google Reader. I provide it for my distant siblings who live hundreds of miles away and don’t get to see their nieces very often. Feel free to read on and comment, but you’ve been warned.

The Daughters are a classic exercise in extremes. 8-Year Old is sensitive. Almost too much so. She’ll apologize for things that have nothing to do with her. She picks up after her sister to avoid seeing her disciplined. She worries. Her heart will be broken 1,000 times.

On the other hand, 4-Year Old is utterly remorseless. She’ll commit the same wrong over and over again. She’ll apologize, but with a big smile on her face that makes you question her sincerity. Sometimes, she lies. She’ll break hearts without regret.

How do I get their temperaments to meet in the middle? Is there a magic pill?

Weekend afternoons with 8-Year Old Daughter have given way to afternoons with 4-Year Old Daughter. She likes to visit the botanical garden near our home. The land was once owned by Vito Genovese, one of New York’s crime family bosses. New Jersey busted his ass, took his property (beautiful gardens and rolling hills) and turned it into public domain.

Here, she confronts the half man/half demon-beast scarecrow. She asked me to pick her up so she could touch his pointy teeth and see what they feel like. This is the type of thing that would have given 8-Year Old nightmares when she was her age.

Near the entrance is a topiary caterpillar. I point it out to her. She walks up…

…and, of course, puts her head in its mouth. I could get all metaphorical about her disregard for danger but that would just cause me to lose sleep at night.

We always bring a bit of bread so she can feed the goldfish in the pond. It’s a constant struggle to keep her from fall in. Imagine me bringing her home covered in pond muck! Boy, would I be in the dog house!

Our afternoons end as they always have. As they always will. At the diner.

I was walking up Varick Street at 7:00 a.m. and came across this sad sight.

Some shitheel took out a tree with his/her sloppy driving. It was a direct hit. It looks like they drove their car right onto the sidewalk and up the trunk of the tree. They stripped the bark clean off for added insult. I can only hope the car was damaged beyond repair.

For some reason, my heart always breaks a little bit when I see a tree taken down. Who doesn’t love trees!? I especially enjoyed J.R.R. Tolkien’s treatment of them. At this point, Manhattan is almost solid concrete. Trees are a scarce commodity. This is one of the distinguishing characteristics that makes London a nicer city than New York. London is much greener and feels more like a collection of homey neighborhoods.

Here’s a rather plain but still attractive building on 8th Avenue and 15th Street across from the the truly gorgeous Apple store. It has some clean lines and I like the crown work. The brick façade is nice and warm. The awning is a nice touch. Unfortunately, it has been murdered by some shitheel architect.

We’re all out of horizontal space in New York so a popular work-around is to utilize the vertical space. There are lots of older buildings that have had structures added to the top of them. It can sometimes work with the existing aesthetics but what happened here is an abomination.

An ugly, festering, cancerous carbuncle has been jammed onto the top of the original building. It doesn’t have anything whatsoever to do with the original design. But what the hell. I’m sure they’re making a fortune off the rentals and in New York, too often, that’s what it’s all about.

Fun fact: To the right is the Old Holmstead Steak House. At 140 years, it’s one of the oldest steak houses in Manhattan. I had a Kobe beef burger there once and it was kind of gross. The meat was almost raw.