There are countless condos in Williamsburg that stand for the very core of what douche baggery represents. So what makes 101 Bedford at the corner of N. 11th and Bedford Avenue so different from places like The Williamsburg or The Edge? For one, the club-like atmosphere of the lobby and common areas and, for another, the glass boxes that comprise the aesthetic of every apartment. It is just the sort of place one would expect a pod person to live.
Club lounge interior
With the cheapest box being $2,700 a month, it’s easy to see why 101 Bedford attracts such dickless clientele. Amenities alone cost an extra $600 a year, so there’s no room for financially poor “men” here, just genitally poor ones. While they sun themselves on the roof deck and hover over the edge of their perch to peer at all the people beneath them, one has to wonder: What ever happened to “men” who could build their own houses? Ones that had personality and a no frills vibe. ‘Cause ask any woman and they’ll tell you they’d rather fuck Abe Lincoln than some guy who lives in 101 Bedford.
For a large bulk of “men” in search of an orifice in which to place his so-called lower appendage, the aim is not to find a woman who is unique or particularly memorable, but rather, to release the contents of his testicles, which is often why he tends to complain, “All women are the same.”
Tony Soprano, a sociopath with dick issues
Moreover, most “men” can’t acknowledge the fact that the purported sameness of the women they bone stems from the unavoidable reality that they’re all in search of a female who either blatantly or subtly mimics the personality and/or aesthetic of his mother. It’s a sad Oedipal part of life, but it’s true. Hence, every woman he dates, fucks or befriends tends to feel like a copy of the last. So if a “man” wants to get a sense that no two women are created alike, it is key for him to break out of his psychological mold, which can be a challenge when it’s being run by a nub of a penis.
With gender roles and expectations turned on their ear during this nameless and bland epoch, out of the ashes has risen the “charming” bitch. She’s something of a mutant hybrid of the bawdy broad (as perfected by Mae West) and a trust fund baby. Lest “men” get the impression they can have a free-for-all on what constitutes a bitch, let me break it down for you.
Mae West: the original charming bitch
The “charming” bitch expects nothing less than the best for herself at any cost, and if you can’t give it to her she won’t give you the goddamn time of day. She has no interest in you other than what you can buy her or where you can take her. She is, in short, a composite of Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton. The “average” bitch “men” tend to think of when they hear this word, however, is a woman like Madonna, who expresses herself time and time again, no matter how many critical voices try to quell her opinion.
Madonna, the conventional version of how “men” define a bitch
And yet, the real bitches are the ones they lust after under the false impression that these women are unattainable when, really, you could find one at any rooftop bar in Williamsburg. Rather than her vitriolic utterances being insightful and incisive, they are vacantly snarky and void of substance. So, to sum up, “men” who like these seething, gaping sores of females–oozing out materialism and vacuousness–kind of deserve to be stuck with them.
We all love LCD Soundsystem. We’re all still mourning the end of the band in the wake of their final Madison Square Garden show in 2011. And yet, lead singer James Murphy’s plans to open a wine bar in Williamsburg is simply not the way to fill the void that has been present ever since LCD stopped putting out new music.
Murphy, who previously collaborated with
Blowhard Blue Bottle to create a single-origin espresso line, is no stranger to the Williamsburg business scene. Perhaps that’s why he’s so attuned to knowing what will allow him to thrive in it–and that the density of dickless “men” in the neighborhood will flock to sit and drink “natural wine” for an obscene price. To add to the missing a dick nature of the establishment, it will be called The Four Horsemen and is moving into the space near Havemeyer and Grand where Foodswings used to be. Bottoms up (’cause you’re def getting cornholed in the bathroom of The Four Horsemen).
Like its cousin St. Patrick’s Day, Cinco de Mayo holds a special allure to frat boy types inhabiting Condoburg (the new Murray Hill). While each holiday promotes drinking to a blackout state, Cinco de Mayo is a bit harrier in terms of the offense “men” can cause.
Drinking Corona is the extent of a “man’s” knowledge of Cinco de Mayo
You see, if we’re being honest, it’s primarily white males who enjoy “celebrating” these “holidays.” And since Irish people are white, it’s a bit less bristling when the average “man” chooses to adopt the event as his own. With Cinco de Mayo, however, things start to get a bit trickier. When a “man” dons a sombrero and drinks Corona and/or margaritas to “honor” what most people assume is Mexico’s Independence Day, but is actually a date that commemorates the Mexican army triumphing over Frenchies at the Battle of Puebla (a place where Cinco de Mayo has a legitimate right to be celebrated), it just automatically comes across as plain dickless.
Star Wars is, undeniably, an important film franchise (as important as The Godfather franchise? That’s arguable). I guess that’s why a lot of nerdish “men” with tufts of hair in place of where the penis is like to get together and celebrate May the 4th Be With You, a “religious” holiday for Star Wars fans.
Tina Fey/Liz Lemon is the exception to the Star Wars enthusiast rule
Apart from the fact that George Lucas is laughing his ass off over how easy it is to make money off of “men” such as these, it is a sorry affair indeed when chubster “men” gather together to recite dialogue and generally neb out over Star Wars. Technically speaking, every day is May the 4th Be With You to these “men,” which makes it all the more unclear why they would want to highlight their dicklessness with such folly. The only person who can get away with admitting to celebrating this “holiday,” I’m afraid, is Tina Fey.
Originality is not something “men” are known for. Even Shakespeare‘s ingenuity has been called into question time and time again. Yet, it still flummoxes me that we seem to be doomed to see the “It’s Gonna Be May” meme in our social media feeds for the rest of eternity (or until millennials become too irrelevant).
Yes, we get it.
I guess it was funny the first year, and “men” who posted it must have enjoyed the positive feedback they were receiving from women who were once obsessed with ‘NSYNC, but the time has long ago passed to retire this meme. Maybe we can go even further back it time and switch to an “It’s Gonna Be June” meme wherein June Cleaver is the focus. But alas, everyone who watched Leave It To Beaver in its time is on the precipice of death. Nonetheless, the “man” with any dick would either cease to use “It’s Gonna Be May” or come up with something better for next year. Please, god, please.