Queen Village Residents Finally Begin To Crumble After Mass Retail Exodus From South Street Causes Existential Dilemma
Let’s review, kids; ground beef patties seasoned with mint, parsley, paprika, cumin, tomatoes, and onions cooked with two eggs up and served in a traditional earthenware tangine, with Italian bread. I have that menu description commited to memory. My memory, a place where it always will be served, morning, day or night, with a frothy cappuccino and whatever remnants the Hammer hath left of her sausage encrusted French toast, because you know, I’m such the bottom feeder.
Jesus. Wait ’til he finds out that Spaceboy is no more, either. And Rock ‘n’ Roll Plus? IS THERE REALLY NO MORE ROCK ‘N’ ROLL PLUS? Et tu, Inferno? And Book Trader! Dead to me. But still, Noise Pollution, I kiss you. You? You shall never leave. May the God Of Thunder smile and rock hard from deep below your piles of old, slightly scary Oi! singles and may the heavens burst when they finally realize that after all these years, you, my friend have that ever-elusive Suede 12-inch. You will be here when all that is left of this place is cockroaches, Mikey Wild and Copa’s margarita mix.
Wookified: Who Took All The South Street Out Of My South Street?
