Long Island Railroad Environmental Alert
More unsolicited old school advice as we wait for the 5:33am train into the city
Twenty-third in a series of conversations I had with Tom da Lung Eyelund Carpenta on the train platform before our early morning commute…
“Did youse hear da godawful noise early dis ay em? Do youse hear it now? Zzzzzzzwwwaaaaaahhhhh! Over by dere. Annoyin as fuck. A generater? Dere’s smoke, too. Do youse see it now? What da ay ef?
Dis is bullshit! Leaped outta bed at tree ay em, tinking my furnace blew or my electrical board fried out. Dis kinda activity should be illegal in highly popularated areas like Lung Eyelund, but nobody gives a shit, instead blamin da storm, which dey shoulda anticipated fer fuck’s sake.
Meanwhile, even in da best a times we’re surrounded by toxications. Fer eggzample, dat plastic factory two blocks down off Rockaway pumps out nasty toxic vapors on a rooteen basis, contaminatin da whole fucken neighborhood, probly mutatin kids inta havin tree arms an two heads, not dat anyone would notice around here.
Right near me, between da cop house an barber shop is an EZ-Clean, youse knows where dey conduct polishin a valuables, like silva an crystal. Dey claim dey ship it out fer da work, but dey don’t ship nuttin, dey blast dat vile dreck right dere on da preemises! One night we hadta call da fire departmint, dis big cloud a silva fog surroundin da whole block like dat Stephen King Mist movie, creepin inta everting. Bunch a lucky fuckers on da odder side a da tracks, while us workin class people gettin our faces electroplated widdout da benefit of a tank youse.
Dis is crazy, but imagine da industral loveliness dey got in China, where youse can’t even see cross da street, or da hand in front a youse face. But dat ain’t no stoppin em, dose little guys smoke cigrettes just ta breed cleana air. A buddy a mine juss got back from a town in Banglesladesh. Youse tinks dey gots indoor plumbin? People were takin a shit right in da street, juss like in Shakespurs times!
An youse tinks dat’s bad? I was just over in Lindenhurst, those basterds are under five feet a water from da hurricane an flood. Good luck callin fer help, you gets some broad wid a nice voice hired ta apolgize widdout actully doin anyting. Bait an switch, Son, oldest trick in da book!
Reminds me a when I went on my honeymoon vaycayshin ta Mexico. We gets dere and da fancy suite dey promised is taken, but dey say don unpack, it’ll be ready tomorra. So for seven days me and my lovely new wife stayed in a shitty suite, our shit packed, until da last day I blow up at da chick hired ta apolgize, tell em to shove da whole vaycayshin up deir ass, lot a good dat did us.
We’re in da same boat now, Buddy. Da autorities defnitely dropped da ball, our entire neighborhood is about ta explode. Look at dis mess! Dey should a brought linemen from Georgia snd Nort Carlina in right afta da storm. Betcha in two months nobody is gonna care, and dey’ll raise our rates to pay fer deir mistakes, watch.
Meanwhile, we might as well climb up over by dere and try ta fix dem lines ourself, only problem is if dey turn em on while we’re up dere, zap, one fried business guy and carpenta. But you’d get yer California tan back real fast, dat’s for fucken sure!
It’s a nutty world, Son. Who’d a tought it woulda come down ta dis? All dis is why I chew wid my mout closed an laugh at my wife’s jokes. Last ting I need on dis crazy planet is ta contamnate da home front, too, know what I’m sayin? Cover youse back, Jack. Rememba da Alimo! Damn da torpeeders! Union only! Geronimo!
And right on da signal, here’s our five-turdy-tree train into Babylon. Have a nice fucken day, if a course youse don’t get azzphyxiated first…”
More Tom for you…
