The Harder They Come

You know, I actually worried that I'd be at a loss about what to write about this morning--this always happens on Thursdays, I don't know why. But hey, I have an embarassment of riches for you, multimedia stylee! (Consider this my tryout for Krucoff's crimeblog.)

Just to recap: Still no word on the woman DANGLING FROM THE BRIDGE. Still no one apprehended in the G train rape, but now we know why it happened so easily: There were no cops manning the station like they're supposed to. How ya like them apples? Since 9/11, the NYPD has placed police booths in all subway stations near waterbodies. This station's near the East River and the Newtown Creek. Apparently the police don't feel that the threat of pirates invading via the Newtown Creek is enough reason to endure "noxious odors" in the station. (I'm going to assume that the odors are at least in part due to the panoply of deposited human waste, which--for the sake of argument--means that if the cops would actually sit in the box once in a while, there'd be fewer noxious odors. But that's just Monday-morning quarterbacking on my part.)

See, this is funny because I think about the stories of my Uncle Nick who lived near the Gowanus and during the Cuban Missile Crisis decided to arm himself to the teeth in preparation for his own Special Cuban Invasion. The Gowanus is +/- 1,200 miles from Cuba. I say: would it be considered profligate on the part of the NYPD to make sure that pirates don't come down the Newtown Creek? I vote no. And when they're not saving the good people of North Brooklyn and Western Queens from pirates, the NYPD could perhaps STOP RAPES every once in a while.

Anyhow, see that picture? That was the scene a block from our apartment this morning. Oh, there was just all sorts of blood everywhere. At first it was just a few droplets, but then the blood formed spiral patterns that went down the sidewalk, over to the payphone, and then onto the wall of the DEP building (see photo), where the droplets turned into giant, gloppy smears that culminated in a nice big puddle of coagulated blood.

Lovely. I decided to snap a photo of the crime scene so that I would have proof that some sort of crime had actually occurred. (I felt a bit like Candy Jernigan though the only crack vials I've ever brought home were inadvertently wedged into the treads of my boots.) Hey, I'll keep you posted if this incident makes it into the news!