I’m madder than the kid at the end of the line in the telephone game who gets the completely wrong message and is then chided for it — when it wasn’t at all his fault that everyone else screwed it up — over the fact that too often in this world when somebody sees something they don’t say nothing, and the world would be a much better place if they did!
Look, you all know the ol’Screecher has made a living yelling and screaming about things that other people should have noticed in the first place, like the time I demanded the Transit Authority oil the screeching wheels on the trains on the West End line, or the time I demanded the Transit Authority oil the screeching wheels on the trains on the Sea Beach line, or the time I demanded the Transit Authority oil the screeching wheels on the trains on the Culver line, but I wouldn’t have had to done none of that screechin’ if someone beat me to the punch.
And I also know my audience like the back of my hand, and you don’t have to tell me that your favorite columns written by yours truly are the ones that feature me and my trusty steed Tornado riding off into the sunset after some hoots and hi-jinks that take place somewhere in the borough of kings.
So this week’s column is a no-brainer (careful, commentators), because it features both!
That’s right! I was atop Tornado making my rounds around the neighborhood to make sure that everything is hunky-dory when I came upon the sidewalk behind Dyker Beach Golf Course. Folks, millions of people, including joggers that repeatedly told me to move my ashes, used this sidewalk everyday to take in the beautiful views of the VA hospital and Dyker Beach Golf Course.
Problem was, I couldn’t figure out what was actually happening around me because I was bouncing around like a little kid in one of those bouncy house things because the sidewalk was so uneven! I couldn’t see in front of me, to the left of me, or to the right, either! How it got that way, I don’t know. But I do know that if somebody complained about it before me, it would have been fixed already, and I wouldn’t have to screech about it now!
Now the point in the column where I go off on the type of tangent that drives my editor crazy.
Do you guys know about the White Cliffs of Dover? You don’t? Wanna hear about them? No? When then turn the channel, because I’m going to tell you anyway. Now stand back as the Screecher learns you something!
“There’ll be bluebirds over, The white cliffs of Dover, Tomorrow, just you wait and see” were the words to a song of hope that the World War Deuce generation used to sing when they were feeling down. Well I’ll tell you this, I sincerely hope that the White Cliffs of Dover on Seventh Avenue near 92 Street get leveled before smart ambulance chasing suites start posting their phone numbers on the fences promoting injury suits that will cost the city hundreds of thousands in damages, thus raising the taxes on we poor homeowners who have to fix our sidewalks or face hefty astronomical fines.
Now back to my “If you see something, say something,” monologue.
It is amazing to me how many joggers, pedestrians, and neighborhood people use that horrible sidewalk and do not report its dangers. Call Community Board 10, or the 311 like I did, and give the location of the hazardous raised sidewalks, which everyone is now calling the White Cliffs of Dover.
And Mayor DiBlasio frequently referenced the Tale of Two Cities in his campaign, which now he can relate to the gorgeous Dyker Beach Golf Course’s and its surrounding sidewalks — or should I say obstacle course — where the idle poor never meet the idle rich.
I even saw one small dog looked down from his cliff and was so scared of the height that he pooped!
They really gotta do something about it, and pronto!
Screech at you next week!