New York Gritty

Every six years, like it or not, New Yorkers get that distinctive red and white notice in the mail: Jury Duty! Sure, you can postpone it a couple of times, but your day of reckoning must come, and mine was Monday, December 3rd.

A jury duty veteran, I bring two newspapers and a new play I’m working on to wile away the dreary hours. One guy whips out his cellphone and is warned: not in this room.

“Special exemptions” were lifted a while ago, and a real cross section of NYC sits with me in the jury room, from doctors and TV producers to the unemployed, doing their civic duty. We are assured that most of us will probably serve just two days, and I settle in. But surprise–within 10 minutes of orientation I’m called up on a murder case!

The prosecutor starts us off with a hypothetical: “Let’s say there’s a robbery, and let’s say one guy holds a gun on the victim while the accomplice rifles the cash drawer and goes through the victim’s pockets. Ok, now let’s say the victim resists and the first guy blows his brains out.”

Let’s say what? “Ok, do any of you have a problem with that fact that the accomplice is also arrested for 2nd degree murder if that’s the law?”

Mr. Cellphone does.

“I watch a lot of TV,” he explains. “I watch all the CSI’s, Law and Orders, Criminal Minds, and on all these shows the accomplice seems to be treated much more leniently.”

The pained prosecutor forces a smile. “Yes, but that’s TV fiction. This is real life.” Mr Cellphone stares at him blankly. “Could you go by the judges instructions and follow the law?” pleads the prosecutor.

Mr Cellphone ponders the question as the rest of us squirm in the jury box. “I think I can,” he finally offers, quite unconvincingly. Is he just playing dumb to get off this case, which the judge told us could last for weeks? I sneak a peek over at him. He’s either the finest actor since Lawrence Olivier or a total nitwit. My gut says the latter.

And he’s not done.

“But why would they allow them to do that on TV if-”

Out!

And my chances of being selected suddenly rise. They ask me what I do. I say playwright. Did someone at the prosecution table just twitch?

They keep four of our group, and I’m not one of them. After the highlight of my day (a hearty lunch at Wonton Gardens in nearby Chinatown) I return to the main jury room. Soon a surprise announcement: two big cases were settled while we were at lunch, and we are released!

Sure, I was relieved. But I also felt a tinge of regret. I actually like serving on a jury, because for all its flaws, our system of being judged by a jury of one’s peers makes me proud.

And when someone tells me with a smirk on their face how they dodged jury duty with some clever lie, it makes me sick to my stomach and I never look at them the same way. Because as imperfect as our jury system can be, it sure beats the alternative.

Are you aware that in the good old days, a suspected thief had molten metal poured onto his hand, and if the wound healed, it was God’s way of declaring the suspect innocent, and if not, guilty? And that barbarism is not just in the past. Last week in Gaza, Hamas took a man accused by his neighbor of spying and dragged him to his death by tying him to the back of a motorcycle. Trial? You’re not serious, right?

And if you think we can’t retreat to a similar age of superstition and savagery ourselves, you’re not paying enough attention. Millions of religious fanatics in our nation would love to apply their own version of Sharia law to the female and gay “sinners” residing on our shores. And yes, they’re dead serious.

So next time you get your jury duty notice, show up. It will make you– and me– feel much better.

After mourning the recent, almost simultaneous losses of Bob Herbert and Frank Rich from The New York Times op-ed page, the only columnists left worth reading were Paul Krugman, Gail Collins– and Maureen Dowd. Although occasionally shallow and snarky, Dowd was a truly gifted writer, and when she took the journalist’s idealistic creed of “comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable” seriously, no one did it better. Her series of columns taking the Catholic Church to task for its heinous handling of the church’s pedophile scandal is a case in point.

But Dowd recently seems to have gone off the deep end. Her obsessive sniping at President Obama, whom she (along with Rush Limbaugh) derisively refers to as “Barry,” has become an embarrassment.

Before the election, Dowd went on and on about how anti-social Obama is, how he hates people, thinks he’s “too noble” to schmooze and other psychobabble. I thought it would end on Election Day, but no such luck.

Her Sunday 11-25 column continued her peevish attacks, this one centering around how the President should use Robert Griffith III, a 22 year old quarterback for the Washington Redskins, as an example of how to be a leader and human being. Does Dowd realize that most of her readers (of both the local and national edition of the Times) live outside the Washington bubble, don’t even know who Griffith is and could care less?

Dowd’s coquettish act has warn thin, and these recent columns reveal her increasingly old-fashioned, pinched and entitled outlook. The subtext should read “Are you ignoring me, young man? Don’t you know how important and influential I am? Don’t you know I once dated Michael Douglas and Aaron Sorkin? How dare you!” (Sorkin has described Dowd as “a dream girl” who “always seemed like she stepped out of a novel from the 40s.”)

Dowd’s book Are Men Necessary? was quite revealing, with dated and often laughable ideas about relationships, including that women must never pay a penny on a date, even if she is making twice as much as the man, and the importance of playing coquettish games in a relationship.

Somehow, President Obama has no time for this nonsense. I have my own issues with the President. For starters, he may be the worst poker player in the world, negotiating with disrespectful GOP “leaders” by starting in the middle and moving to the right. That being said, I think the President has done a remarkable job in the face of unprecedented hostility and intrangience from the GOP.

One noteworthy part of Dowd’s attacks is when she unfavorably compares Obama to Bill Clinton, whom she now views as a swell guy and devilish charmer, obviously assuming her readers had lobotomies. Unfortunately for her, I’m not the only one to recall her brutal, cheap shot takedowns of both he and Hillary not that long ago, As Bill Clinton put it, “Maureen Dowd must live in mortal fear that there’s somebody in the world living a healthy and productive life.”

While more and more a relic of the past, Dowd undoubtably sees herself as anything but dowdy. A flame-haired charmer, Dowd always had politicians lusting after her, most notably George H. W. Bush, who had her over for parties and to his Kennebunkport retreat and whose “eyes lit up whenever he saw Dowd enter a room” according to New York Times managing editor and Dowd confidant Jill Abramson.

But President Obama could care less, treating Dowd like any other columnist. Nearly old enough to be Obama’s mother, Dowd is nonetheless clearly peeved by the President not being smitten by her and regularly lashes out at him in her column with increasingly petty attacks.

And while Dowd swoons over quarterback Griffith’s “easy charm” and the huge fan base he has attracted, comparing the “aloof, preening” Obama unfavorably with him, she fails to note that she is rapidly losing her own fans, with her once loyal readers turning against her.

The five posts that got the most approvals on the NY Times web site on Sunday ranged from bafflement to disgust with Dowd.

New York’s Mary Scott says “the idea that our President needs to seek leadership advice from a 22 year old football player is insulting and disdainful,” while Josy Will writes that Dowd is “obviously obsessed with President Obama. Sorry Maureen, he won’t call you. Not maybe.”

Time to face the truth, Maureen. “Barry” is just not that into you.

Sorry to have been away so long, but my play March Madness just closed Sunday at the Abingdon Theatre Continue reading →

Tina Rutnik grew up in a small upstate NY community.

Her dad was a prominent lobbyist with close ties to the Republican Party.

Tina was a diligent student, attending Dartmouth College and majoring in Asian studies.

She also lived and studied in both Beijeng and Taiwan.

Tina adopted a new, Chinese name: Lu Tian Na, and learned to speak fluent Mandarin Chinese.

Upon returning to the states, Tina (Lu Tian) went out west to UCLA Law School and passed the bar in 1991.

She snared a job at a prominent Manhattan based law firm and became known for her tireless work as defense attorney for Philip Morris, defending the company in both criminal and civil racketeering probes.

Later attacked for her fierce defense of the tobacco giant, Tina said the money she made allowed her to take on pro bono cases on behalf of abused women.

Now using her legal first name and husband’s last name, Tina served as Special Counsel to HUD Secretary Andrew Cuomo in the 1990s.

As the 21st century approached, Tina went to work for Hillary Clinton on her 2000 U.S. Senate campaign.

After Clinton won, Tina went back to work for a law firm representing The Altria Group__Philip Morris’ parent company.

In 2005, she left the law firm to run for a seat in Congress.

Running as a centrist Democrat in an ultra-right upstate NY district that had been under Republican control for almost a century, Tina campaigned against amnesty for illegal immigrants and vowed to protect citizens’ gun rights. Both Hillary and Bill Clinton campaigned for her.

Tina’s campaign released a police report claiming that her opponent’s wife called 911 because the candidate was “knocking his wife around the house.”

Her opponent vehemently denied the charge, saying Tina’s campaign was “a disgrace.”

Tina won with 53% of the vote, then was relected in 2008 by a stunning 24 point margin.

Soon after, President-elect Barak Obama appointed NY Senator Hillary Clinton as U.S. Secretary of State.

Most everyone believed that Caroline Kennedy would be named to replace Clinton, but then Governor David Patterson shocked everyone by naming Tina to fill the post.

Politicos in downstate NY were dumbfounded. Most had no idea who Tina was.

In 2009, Tina was sworn in as the youngest member of the Senate.

In the 2010 Senate election, Tina easily defeated her Republican opponent by a 63% to 35% margin.

Formerly known for her centrist views, Tina moved substantially to the left, leading the effort to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” She also led the charge to pass the James Zadroga 9/11 Health and Compensation Act which gave financial relief to victims of the World Trade Center attack.

Tina is now 45 years old, married to a British national venture capitalist and has two young sons.

This week Tina, now known as Kirsten Gillibrand, was relected to the Senate with an astounding 72% of the vote.

If Hillary Clinton doesn’t run for President in 2016, many now believe the former Tina Rutnik may someday be elected as the first female President of the United States.

Counting down to the election, Hurricane Sandy has suddenly made our Presidential choice clear as day.

As the massive storm bore down on us, New Jersey Governor Chris Christie was quick to ask for FEMA disaster assistance. What does he plan to do during the next natural disaster if his man Mitt Romney wins the election?

The New York metropolitan area has never experienced a storm like this. NY Governor Andrew Cuomo and others have pointed out that we are obviously in a new, dangerous era of extreme weather conditions and must adjust accordingly.

But don’t tell that to Mitt Romney.
He still dismisses climate change, scoffing “I’m not in this race to slow the rise of the oceans or heal the planet.”

Romney recently said that federal disaster relief is “immoral.” You read that right. He promises to shut down FEMA, with a vague plan to “move it to the states.”

And how will the states pay for this? Romney wouldn’t say, only adding “if not to the states, then even better, to the private sector.”

Yes, even better. Only save those with cash on hand from natural disasters.

Meanwhile, it looks like the infamous 3% of “undecideds” will determine this election. After all this, they can’t decide between Obama and Romney? Really?

Many of them watched the first debate and saw “severe conservative” Mitt morph into “moderate Mitt”__and actually bought it. These undecideds are often euphemistically referred to as “low information voters.”

Well, I have some information for them.

If Romney wins and they need affordable health care, they are out of luck. Mitt vows to tear apart Obamacare. If they hope to get Medicare someday, Romney will cripple that as well.

If they are women, they should know that Romney has vowed to defund Planned Parenthood. With the possibility of him appointing one or two more Scalia/Thomas types to the Supreme Court, they might also say goodbye to choice, with their bodies now controlled by the same government that conservatives supposedly detest.

If they are gay, they’ll be getting a President whose Utah church took the financial lead in supporting California’s Prop 8, asserting that only marriage between a man and a woman is “valid.”

If they believe that every vote should count, they can look forward to Citizens United never being overturned and the final steps taken in turning our democracy into a plutocracy.

Still undecided?
Don’t say you weren’t warned.

After two years of development, my full length “comedy with heart” (I refuse to use the word dramedy) March Madness had its world debut at New York City’s Abingdon Theatre on Friday. The audience response has been terrific and word of mouth is spurring strong ticket sales.

After actor Tom Mardirosian (HBO’s Oz and The Wire) received a copy of the play, he humbled me by saying “This is the best play I’ve read since Other People’s Money. I must do this.” Yes Tom, you must– and you are!

My director is top-notch (Donald Brenner), and I’m absolutely thrilled with my cast. Beside Tom (born to play the role of Maury), there’s Lucy McMichael, who originated the role of Kim and is back by popular demand; Mark Doherty, who blew us away as Nick at the first Abingdon reading; A.J. Cedeno (Kyle) the 27 year old ex-Notre Dame football player with a role on next season’s Smash and a huge future; and Brad Bellamy (Herb), the uniquely funny, incredibly talented seasoned pro who I was praying was available for the role about 10 seconds into his audition.

March Madness has been described as edgy, funny, moving and timely. A brief synopsis:
With the economy struggling and newspapers dying, Maury and his fellow reporters devise a desperate plan that will allow one of them to escape office hell and live his or her dream.

After the previous readings, I lost count of the number of people who approached me to say “That’s my life up there.” The play moves very fast, running about an hour and fifteen/twenty minutes with no intermission, so you can have your play and eat your dinner too!

March Madness runs from October 26 though November 18th. You can get tickets by going to www.abingdontheatre.org.

I look forward to seeing you there.

“Be a man!”
“I will! Bring it on!”
“Oh yeah? Let’s go!”

Who would you guess was involved in this macho exchange? High school thugs? Pro wrestlers? Rappers settling a beef?

How about new MTA chairman Joseph Lhota and board member Charles Moerdler?

When the arrogant Moerdler loudly objected to “destructive” changes in the MTA’s meeting schedule, Lhota went nuts. “Liar! Find out the facts before you open your blubbering mouth,” Lhota screamed, before the confrontation escalated into the exchange quoted above.

While I’m glad to see Lhota reads my blog (Ride the Rails Like the Rest of Us or Get Out of Town) there’s something unseemly about MTA board members throwing chairs at each other on the Titanic while we brace for yet another round of fare hikes.

Don’t you wish they got this agitated about working stiffs paying as much as 10% of their earnings just to get to work? Wouldn’t you think they’d spend their time thinking of ways to spare us another fare increase in a still shaky economy?

“They’ve got to figure out a way not to keep regularly hitting up the riders,” says Gene Russianoff of the Straphangers Campaign.

That would be nice, Gene. I can think of a few off the top of my head. For starters, the MTA should stop offering to sell its extensive real estate holdings to cronies at bargain basement prices.

The board might also encourage Albany to balance out the tolls in New York City. While the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges are always crawling with traffic, the Brooklyn Battery (“Hugh Carey”) Tunnel is usually empty. The bridges are free. The tunnel toll is $6.50. Do the math. Anybody? Bueller?

Hey, how about lowering the toll on the BBT and putting a modest one on the East River bridges? Both traffic and money would flow, and the increased revenues could be used to keep the transit fares stable!

Nah.

Instead the MTA maintains the status quo while raising the toll on the Verrazano Bridge (already an obscene $13 a trip) to $15. And you wonder why Staten Islanders hate the rest of us?

“This is staggering in its outrageousness,” fumed token Staten Island MTA board member Allen Cappelli. “We don’t have decent mass transit options and are being held hostage.”

Yeah, yeah. Anyone else have a thought? See you at the next meeting!

Back here on the mainland, the MTA is following its usual, cynical subway fare strategy, floating such absurd proposals as jacking up the monthly MetroCard cost to $125, then expecting us to breathe a sigh of relief when it “only” jumps to $112.

Meanwhile the MTA board squabbles over meeting schedules. May I suggest they hold their next one on the subway? They can introduce themselves to the riders and explain their latest fare hike suggestions.

Then they’ll learn what real anger looks like.

When the dean of Newtown High School in Queens spotted 15 year old Brianna Demato sporting a bright red “I Enjoy Vagina!” t-shirt in the school lunchroom, he quietly suggested that she might change into less provocative garb.

How dare he! Brianna refused and the dean called her mother, who instead of asking Brianna to come home and put on something more appropriate for school acted as if her daughter was the lesbian version of civil rights pioneer Rosa Parks.

“They’re discriminating against my Brianna!” howled Cathy Demato. “I told her she can wear anything she wants to school!”

To prove her point, Ms. Demato vowed to send her daughter to school the following day in Brianna’s other favorite “I’m the Bitch From Down the Block!” shirt.

As an ex-teacher, let me clue you in as to what happens when someone wears a sexually provocative t-shirt to class. At best it is a tad disruptive to learning. At worst all hell breaks loose. Your sanctuary of learning transforms into agita central.

“The language on the shirt was likely to cause disruption and is inappropriate for school,” said Education Department spokeswoman Margie Feinberg.

Can’t argue with that? Sure you can! An alarming number of knee-jerkers responded in outrage as if this were some kind of gay rights, freedom of speech or other human rights violation.

For me it was a nostalgic moment. Brianna Demato’s defiant stance brought back memories of other brave, pioneering children who wore bold, “statement” garb to school, such as the young scholar adorned in a “Suck This!” shirt with an arrow pointing down to his crotch (obviously expressing his budding, healthy sexual desires) and others adorned in “Welcome to New York City–Now Get the F_ _ _ Out!” shirts displaying their admirable civic pride.

Across the hall from my inner city Brooklyn classroom was a teacher who was a lesbian. She didn’t hide it and nobody cared. If a student of hers had worn an “I Enjoy Vagina!” shirt to her classroom, she would have unceremoniously tossed the offender out on her hoo-hah.

But that was many years ago. If the teacher tried that today, she would be brought up on charges while the girl became a media celebrity.

My only wish for Ms. Demato is that she earn a teaching license, then show up at 9 a.m. one morning to discover her student (boy or girl, it doesn’t matter) flaunting a bright red shirt proclaiming “I Enjoy Penis!”

Then enjoy the next six hours of living hell.

If you awoke on the couch from a four year coma and found the TV still  blaring,  you’d think the biggest names in politics in 2012 are ex-wrestling czar Linda (“Crotch Kicker”)  McMahon and Bob (“Mr Shady”) Menendez.

The two have flooded the airwaves with ads for their respective campaigns: Republican McMahon for Senate in Connecticut, Democrat Menendez for Senate reelection in New Jersey. 

Meanwhile, valuable prizes await those who can identify Wendy Long. Olympic gymnast? Media personality? Nope, Republican candidate for NY Senator! Oh, you didn’t know incumbent Kirsten Gillibrand was up for re-election this year? Don’t feel too bad. How could you? Gillibrand knows she’s got it in the bag and isn’t wasting money on TV ads, particularly in New York City.

Mrs. Long, who looks like Arizona Governor Jan Brewer on a good day,  is anti-gay marriage, anti-choice (she would ban abortions even in the case of rape and incest), and tells a heartwarming Christmas story: “My son was eight or nine, it was almost Christmas, and I said to my husband, you know, it’s time to buy that boy a gun.” She has as much chance of being elected Senator in New York as Ann Coulter.

So don’t expect to see any ads for the NY Senate race__ or U.S. President, for that matter. Neither President Obama nor Mitt Romney are wasting any time or money on ads here (the state is sewn up for Obama) just like they are ignoring Texas (which is sewn up for Romney, unless he goes to Texas and insults the Dallas Cowboys, a real possibility the way he’s going).

Both Obama and Romney are doing almost all of their campaigning in a few ”swing” states, ignoring the rest of us. The overwhelming majority of national voters have no impact, with their states already locked up for one candidate or the other. Meanwhile, those living in Ohio and Florida can’t turn on the TV or pick up the phone without fear of hearing yet another plea for their vote or trashing of the opposition.

When the three most populous states in the union (New York, California and Texas) are ignored on election day, we have a problem. And now that the NY Senate race is a done deal, the average New Yorker has little motivation to go to the polls in five weeks.

The situation here, and in most states, has become a real threat to our democracy. When people aren’t motivated to vote, that’s when the sharks of both parties take over.

For starters, time to abolish the electoral college and let every vote count. But there’s a bigger problem here. Some billionaire, private company or even a foreign government swimming in cash (I’m talking to you, China)  can now buy themselves a president with a massive, anonymous ad blitz. The Supreme Court decision to let any person, group or nation pour unlimited amounts of money into a campaign with no one knowing who they are is the most dangerous situation our democracy has ever faced. Abolish Citizens United!

So who is Wendy Long?
Does it really matter?

People who don’t walk around New York City on a daily basis don’t know what they’re missing.

Strolling through Central Park’s Sheep Meadow on a balmy September day  I came across a group of topless young women lounging in the grass. I couldn’t help notice that they were all reading pulp fiction novels. (Yes I got close enough to see what they were reading– I have a strong interest in  literature). They cheerfully told me they were all members of “The Outdoor Co-ed Topless Pulp Fiction Society.” More power to them!

I then made my way to the 6 subway train on East 77th Street. On my ride downtown I was serenaded by both a mariachi band and a doowop group singing a great a cappella version of “Down By the Riverside.” Do you get such free entertainment in Des Moines? I think not!

I got off and walked over to meet a friend in Chinatown, who had strolled up from Wall Street. She told me about a freak accident she witnessed earlier in the week. While many students have had trouble falling out of bed to get to class, few have had the experience of a bed falling on them. But that’s not the case anymore with Jesse Scott Owen.

The King’s College freshman was walking down Broad Street minding his business when a mattress fell 30 stories from a Manhattan building and knocked him cold! He woke up lying on the mattress, with concerned New Yorkers attending to him. Turns out Owen suffered a strained neck and possible herniated disc.

“People keep asking me if I’m going to sue,” said the friendly Florida transplant. “I have no idea.”

The 18 year old seemed pretty mellow about the incident. “It was an experience,” said Owen. “When I Googled to see if anyone had written about it, I first searched ’Boy Hit by Mattress on Wall Street’ and got nothing. So I tried ‘Man Hit by Mattress’ and sure enough stories came up. I was psyched. That’s right, I’m officially a man now!”

Not to mention officially a New Yorker.