Christo's Gates returning to Central Park as a permanent installation!
Apr 1st, 2005 | 06:25 AM
#7
Joined: Sep 2003
Posts: 3,528
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ahnold - here in Mass we have experienced tremendous appreciation on the value of our homes. Some towns experience higher rates of appreciation because they are percieved to have excellent school sytems. So if you were lucky enough to pay $50,000 for a house that is now worth $500,000, don't you think you can afford a slight tax increase to protect that investment. Generally we are talking about 2 1/2 overrides of less than $200 - the price of a decent meal for a family of four. In our school system we need the override not to hire more teachers, not to buy more books or computers but rather to pay for heating oil.
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Apr 1st, 2005 | 08:05 AM
#14
Joined: Jan 2003
Posts: 1,182
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Good one Patrick! When I read the title of your post my first thought was - "Gekko will have to move, or spend the rest of his life throwing a tantrum and talking about vomit" this could very send him to lunch again with the shrink from the Upper West Side!
Apr 1st, 2005 | 08:49 AM
#17
Joined: Jun 2003
Posts: 4,181
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There aren't enough PhD's in NYC to save us all from the "saffron" nightmare that continues to haunt our dreams.
Like Freddy Krueger's quarry, we lie awake at night, denying the Sandman, praying for an end to Christo's sadistic torture.
Like Linda Blair's Regan MacNeil, we battle the inevitable nausea, the projectile streams of orange that taint our fair city.
Like Betsy Palmer's Pamela Voorhees, we scream for a return to the idyllic days before our love drowned in a grotesque sea of orange. We weep for our park, like Ms. Voorhees wept for her beloved son. "Look what you did to it! Look what you did to it!!!"
Like . . .
Like Freddy Krueger's quarry, we lie awake at night, denying the Sandman, praying for an end to Christo's sadistic torture.
Like Linda Blair's Regan MacNeil, we battle the inevitable nausea, the projectile streams of orange that taint our fair city.
Like Betsy Palmer's Pamela Voorhees, we scream for a return to the idyllic days before our love drowned in a grotesque sea of orange. We weep for our park, like Ms. Voorhees wept for her beloved son. "Look what you did to it! Look what you did to it!!!"
Like . . .
good one.
