Reviews Pour In for a Bed & Breakfast That Doesn’t Exist [NYTimes.com]
Frum was contrasting Obama to his own party’s star attraction, Rush Limbaugh, whose “history of drug dependency” and “tangled marital history” make him “a walking stereotype of self-indulgence.” Indeed, the two top candidates for leader of the post-Bush G.O.P, Rush and Newt, have six marriages between them. The party that once declared war on unmarried welfare moms, homosexual “recruiters” and Bill Clinton’s private life has been rebranded by Mark Foley, Larry Craig, David Vitter and the irrepressible Palins. Even before the economy tanked, Americans had more faith in medical researchers using discarded embryos to battle Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s than in Washington politicians making ad hoc medical decisions for Terri Schiavo.
Because if you can’t turn living near a crack house into a nifty little clip in the august New York Times, is life worth living? Also what about the people who have lived all their lives near crack houses or other dens of drugs ….where’s their byline?
A Snitch Like Me
ONE hot night last summer, just past midnight, I discovered that in the apartment building across the street from my duplex in Fort Greene there was a little crack house.
I was parking my car after a late movie, the windows down because my air-conditioning was broken, when I heard a man and a woman arguing on the sidewalk. I didn’t know them, but they weren’t new faces to me. In the four years I’d lived in the apartment on South Oxford Street, I’d walked past them many times. They were constantly moping around the block with glassy eyes, scratching themselves, and muttering. Any New Yorker could tell they were crackheads.
I never gave much thought as to why these two crackheads were on my block so often. Some days in Fort Greene you walk past celebrities like Adrian Grenier or Colson Whitehead or Mos Def. Some days you walk past a crackhead.
But the intensity of their arguing piqued my interest, so I sat in the car to see how it played out. After a moment the woman threw a few crumpled-up bills at the man. They bounced off his chest and fell to the pavement. He scooped them up, walked to the window of a nearby apartment and passed the bills into a window.
After a few minutes, the window opened a bit and out flew a little bag filled with something white. When the bag hit the ground, the crackhead grabbed it, and he and his crack buddy dashed off.
I couldn’t believe it. I was living a stone’s throw away from a crack house.