See last week’s front page? Now you know why I was depressed. Regular readers know I typed a column in a raggedy bathrobe from the alley next to the Lawrence Hotel on Beach 116th, a few weeks ago. It was filled with pigeons aiming for me and my keyboard, the perfect setting for my mood that grew darker and darker as I read through FEMA guidelines and flood maps.
I tell ya, it ain’t easy being a bipolar writer. I write up some silly stuff in this space and then write editorials that bum everybody out. And last week, whew, I broke my own rule. I tell columnists and letter writers to keep their stuff short, 500 – 700 words. I don’t want to see a sea of text. Then I went and wrote an editorial that should have had chapters.
But long as it was, apparently a lot of people read it and some were still reading it. I drove by the Lawrence last Friday and there were like 50 or 60 people there reading the front page. They weren’t the usual 116th types. These people were in monogrammed bathrobes.
But they were mumbling.
I heard I bummed people in church on Good Friday and on vacation in Puerto Rico (shout out Rincon Rockaway!). Of course, the editorial wasn’t meant to bum people out but to get them informed and fired up.
It so happens, some people didn’t or don’t know I write the editorials (I kinda prefer it that way so I don’t know why I’m busting myself here. Or maybe it doesn’t matter that I’m revealing my two identities, Clark Kent and …Jimmy Olsen – you think I was gonna call myself Superman?) because this column only gets read by the brainiest of the Wave readership. Anyway, I bump-ed into a person I’m friendly with and we chatted about The Wave and Boyleing Points. Some people “don’t get you,” she said. “That Kevin Boyle, I just don’t get him” they’ve told her. That stung, though it was no surprise. I’ve gotten many straight faces and blanks stares back at my hilarity. My sons have told me hundreds of times, “You think you’re funny, but you’re not.” The only reply that doesn’t work is: Yes, I am.
Anyway, not everybody is supposed to get you. I don’t get Conan O’Brien or the show How I Met Your Mother. And I don’t get Chuck Schumer and his joke about flood insurance. Like they say about me, that Chuck Schumer, I just don’t get him.
That Kirsten Gillibrand, maybe she’s over my head because I sure don’t get her sense of humor either. Maybe she and Chuck are visual comedians or absurdists. Maybe an elevated house is a banana peel to them. They laugh harder every foot a house goes higher. Maybe they think it’s funny to vote on legislation that could cost homeowners 10 grand a year. Can’t you just picture them walking out of the Capitol slapping each other on the back, heads thrown back in laughter. Chuckie and Kirsten, the Two Stooges. Laughing as Rockaway reels. Hysterical. Boyleing Points: **Underrated Rockaway. We actually have a lot of good bagel places and plenty of places to get a good sandwich. **John Edwards: It took a year to build The Empire State building. How long is a boardwalk supposed to take? **There are many fans of the Dome on Beach 94th Street. Art and culture are nice and all but it’s really the ideal beer tent. You heard it here first: The Foam Dome.