A Certain Sense of Entitlement

A 6 year old boy wearing an Independent skateboarding logo on his t-shirt. Cool, right? In the top carriage of the F train, his mother holds him up for 3 stops, for him to look out the last window to see what’s coming. Then she puts him down, and I realise he can see for himself.

While holding him, she doesn’t stop saying “do you see his arm (the driver)? Do you see his backpack?” She is continually stimulating, cajoling, prodding – it reminds me of high power nannies I’ve seen in Park Slope who feel the need to constantly “entertain” their charges, almost with a sense that they’re afraid of the kids they’re looking after.

“What comes after 4th Avenue?”

“I don’t know.”

“7th Avenue.”

Maybe the kid has a learning issue, but he doesn’t seem to. It might be more an issue of – not control, rather giving birth in one’s late 30s, early 40s. But it doesn’t just seem to be gratitude for her son: there’s a Park Slope high-poweredness to it that causes migraine in those without kids: an enabling into entitlement.

This kid seems normal still, but God help us, by his 10th year,  as he walks the aisles of Park Slope Food Co op, I suspect we’ll be hearing, “can we have sushi for lunch today, Mom? Is that muffin vegan?”

See here for evidence that I’m not the only one.

The Park Slope Barbers Comedy Duo

© nydailynews.com

Barber 1: “You know what my wife said? You were all over the bed last night, and you never touched me.

[No response]

Barber 1: “What’s the matter? You tired? You eat?”

Barber 2: “I had onion soup for lunch.”

Barber 1: “What, onions make you tired? You want know what onions do to me?”

Barber 2: “I don’t wanna know.”

Barber 1: “No, really – they give me nightmares. I love ’em, but if I have them, I can’t sleep.”

Barber 2: “What no’mally works for me is a couple of shots of brandy.”


Customer: “Murray says to Selleck, “Tom, you better cut your moustache.” Well, that’s like telling the Pope to like go Santería, be a Voodoo priest.” I mean, that’s his livelihood, come on.”


Listening to a restaurant ad: served on a bed of forbidden black rice…

Barber 1: “Fawbidden? You get some sort of forbidden disease!”

Come see us at ____ street in Eastern Secaucus.

Barber 1: “Easte’n Seacaucus! Forbidden?”


Gesturing to the two boys waiting their turn with their mother, one of them with young-hero longish blond hair, he quips: “why so serious? You afraid you’re going to end up like these two?” – Me with male-pattern-and-thus-shaving-head-baldness, my compatriot a 60-something gent also going the whole hog, shaving the wings of his vanity.


The other barber lifts a dark-haired boy out of the chair, puts him down, brushes him off, and says, “what you think, Dad?”