Just when you thought the “man” who delights in $42 dollar chicken was bad, along comes the “man” who opts not only to buy his records at Urban Outfitters, but also to dine there. And what would the location on N. 6th be without an Israeli BBQ restaurant called Esh (it means fire in Hebrew, how profound) for the wary dickless shopper to find refuge?
What could possibly warrant an exhausted or desperate enough state to eat food within a retail facility, Missing A Dick couldn’t tell you. It’s one thing to stop at someplace like, say, Saul inside of the Brooklyn Museum, where you are actually using some of your mental energy to elicit hunger. But shopping for Kanye West albums on vinyl just doesn’t merit a sit-down for some chicken schnitzel with talon.
Like Times Square, Williamsburg has fallen prey to the pressures and allure of giving in to the financial gain of a corporate/funhouse vibe. That’s why it seems a bit of a “dick” move (in the absence of having a dick, of course) to deny places like Urban Outfitters, Starbucks and Sing Sing their liquor licenses under the guise of trying to keep the neighborhood safe from mongos and drunkards.
How is this Starbucks in Williamsburg supposed to have any allure without bona fide Irish coffee?
Members of the community board (already a faint sign of dicklessness in and of itself) bandy about statements like, “I get the kumbaya moment, but why do you have to be blasted to do that? I go to Ikea and have a sandwich with meatballs, and I don’t need a drink. I have no idea where the alcohol fits in.” Spoken like a man without chutzpah/a dick. The denizens of Williamsburg are so afraid to embrace the fantasy land it has become because they fear its inevitable toppling if there’s too much in the way of Sodom and Gomorrah activity. But, dick or no dick, Williamsburg is destined for a fall–so why not let it be someplace like Urban Outfitters, amid overpriced clothes while drinking excessively?