Autumn in the Big Apple

Those Wholefoods organic turkeys are fattening up nicely on their all-natural diet of locally-grown pretentiousness. Which means it's nearly time to run the holiday gauntlet in the Big Apple. There's barely time to rush down to the West Village Halloween parade and separate the real goths from the down-and-out stockbrokers before it's time to rip down the ghouls and raise the Thanksgiving kitsch. And all that is before the big tree even goes up at The Rock.

What follows is a random pictorial tribute to what by J00ster's reckoning is the best season in the Big Apple. Assuming of course the Yankees can get it done against the cheesesteakers.

Rock pigging out in Hell's Kitchen.

Rock pigging out in the East Village.

Mei pigging out in the East Village.

Rock pigging out in the Upper West Side.

Was someone trying to claim there's something random about these shots? Maybe it's just me here, but I'm detecting a bit of a theme. A Non-Random Walk Down Main Street?

I bet the Mayflower didn't have any dark chocolate semifreddos with a touch of bitter orange. On the upside, the pilgrims didn't have to wait for an hour in the Wholefoods line just to get a couple of bags of cornmeal.

Central Park in autumn is a stunning cacophony of reds, yellows, oranges... and hot babes in spandex training for next week's New York marathon. Hang tight, any second one is going to race into frame.

Amazing that the founding fathers had the foresight to preserve such a slice of prime real estate. Or perhaps they lived in the penthouse of the tower over yonder.

That's quite a backyard. Unfortunately if you're lucky enough to live up there, you're also so famous that you can't even venture out without being mobbed by either the paparazzi, or more recently the FBI looking to drag you off to jail by your freshly starched white collar. Ponzi schemes just don't pay like they used to.

Hmph, I thought tourist season was over? No wonder pumpkin lattes are back at Starbucks.




With such idyllic scenes, it's hard to believe that it was only a few decades ago that the only one enjoying the view was your friendly local crack dealer.

The Central Park Reservoir no longer pumps water to the city, since some bright spark realized all it would take is one disgruntled Phillies fan to wipe out New York's water supply.

But it still makes a great backdrop. Especially for those who can afford Upper East Side lux.

The Ramble is a great place for... uhm... what's a synonym for rambling?

Belvedere Castle enjoys a stunning view over the park. Rock especially likes it because it's his kind of cheap, i.e. free. Especially compared to Top of the Rock. Although on the downside, he doesn't get to use the crude Mei on Top of the Rock joke that he's been saving up for ages.

Enjoy it while it lasts. A few short months and the only thing those glasses will be good for will be avoiding snow blindness.

Rock surveys the vast swathes of real estate that he can't afford. Don't give up dude, if you look really, really hard, you can almost see a shoebox in Queens over there.

Leaves are fun, until you have to rake them up. But it still beats shovelling snow.


Lights, camera, action! Gossip Girl season 3 filming is in full swing. Now where's the html tag for annoying voice over?



Columbus Circle is a dizzying blaze of lights on a foggy autumn evening.




Getting into the holiday spirit on the Upper West Side. In this melting pot of a city, even the Jack O' Lanterns hail from far away lands. Wuhan by the looks of it?

A New York minute on Broadway, Upper West Side.

The recently refurbished Lincoln Center gleams. Thank goodness the Dow is back above 10,000 - they might have a chance of actually selling some tickets for the upcoming ballet season.

Apparently this computer-controlled fountain can be programmed to perform in-sync with whatever is on stage in the Center. In other words, there's an app for that.

College Game Day(s)

There's a chill in the crisp autumn air, Central Park has more splashes of red than your average Bernie Madoff victim's bank statement, and the waiting list for an organic-grown-in-state-with-no-carbon-miles Thanksgiving turkey from Wholefoods Columbus Circle is longer than the backlog for Giants tickets. Which can mean only one thing: unless Rutgers is your idea of an elite football program, then it's time to go country.

Sure I said country, but I didn't quite mean this country. Nashville, country music capital of the world. Hitch your mounts out front and mosey on up to the bar y'all.

Aren't you a little short for a State Capitol? Not when you need to divert all funding into grandiose country music museums.

Who's ready for a hoe down? Rock warms up for his big blue grass solo. The audience warms up for a quick sprint in the other direction.

Who's this guy kidding? You mean other than no one? He's about as country as Keith Urban's Upper West Side pad.

The Vanderbilt Commodores cheerleading trials in full swing. An ability to keep a smile on your face even as your team crumbles to another defeat is a prerequisite.

Every university needs a good tower, and Vanderbilt is no exception. Every good university also needs a good football team. Unfortunately, Vanderbilt is the exception. (Ed - Hang on, there's always the Ivy League).

The stars arrive in Nashville. In other words, the opposing team is arriving. The Ole Miss Rebels look unfazed by the impending showdown as they saunter into the stadium.

Mr C., the Vanderbilt mascot. One wonders how much motivation an old geezer named Cornelius plugging away on a drum kit can generate. After the game, one wonders no longer.

Perhaps if we use the same low angle trick on the Vanderbilt offensive line then they'll look imposing too? Uhm, no.

Flying Pig, a restaurant by Jean Georges.

These days a tailgate isn't a tailgate unless you augment the Weber grill with at least a 42' LCD in the back of the pickup truck. You know, so you can watch teams that are, like, good play while you wait for Vanderbilt to run out onto the field.

The Massey Alumni are having a hard time understanding how a university could afford to waste valuable paddock space on a stadium. "But where do they keep all their sheep?"

It wouldn't be college football without the band. It doesn't matter how much your team sucks, there's always something cool about a marching band.

Who's ready for some football!

V is for victory right? Uhm, lucky your school's name starts with V.

Here come the Commodores!

And uhm... here come the Rebels. Again. And again. And again.

Half time gives the Vandy players a chance to regroup.... in theory. But with the band in full swing on a chilly night down south, who's complaining. Football... and the Rebels... are the winners on the day.

Now let's fast forward a couple weeks to a contest with slightly more on the line. When it comes to college football, there are few prouder programs than the mighty Fighting Irish of Notre Dame. And when it comes to rivalries, there are few as fierce as that with the reviled USC Trojans. Unfortunately for the Irish, the seven year, Pete Carroll-induced drought versus USC is making the ol' potato famine look like that time the South Bend Taco Bell ran out of hot sauce.

But hey, each new year brings the eternal hope that This Is The Year. Or if not The Year, at least the year that Charlie Weis gets fired.

There aren't many football programs where evening mass 45 minutes after the last down is as integral to game day as hot dogs, marching bands, and cheerleaders. Alas for Irish fans, the big ref in the sky seems to be too busy watching the Red River Rivalry on ESPN to nudge so much as a fumble Notre Dame's way.

The legendary Golden Dome. Although one suspects that the rabid Irish fans would gladly trade all the gold on campus for just one victory over the vile USC.

The campus fountain in a contemplative mood before all hell breaks loose on kickoff. Or until a USC student manages to break the blue and gold cordon with a pot of red dye.

Touchdown Jesus looms benevolently over the campus end of the stadium. Unfortunately for the Irish, when it comes to USC, the big fella is about the only one signalling a touchdown.

This is what it's all about. This is what you play for. The sense of anticipation permeates every corner of the fabled field.

How many champions have walked the hallowed halls? Unfortunately of late they've all been wearing cardinal and gold.

80,000 fans make their way to their seats. They better enjoy them because this is the only they'll be sitting in the next 4 hours.

The oldest band in college football history - the Band of the Fighting Irish. Their team may have been going downhill of late, but boy their band is having none of it. Sure the Trojan band has glitzy helmets that look like they were borrowed from the movie sets next door, but the Irish band lets their instruments do the talking. Now if only Jimmy Clausen and his troops could perform with half the precision...

Game day festivities kick off with a skydiving display.

"Let's gooooooooooooooooooooooooo IRISH!"

When it comes to college football games, the best fight songs are the simplest. As in "insert archrival here SUCKS!". Repeat for added effect.

Unbelievable. After trailing 34-14 deep in the 4th quarter, the Irish offense finally finds its rhythm and launches a last ditch drive to the line. And suddenly they find themselves just 4 yards short of tying the game, with only four seconds on the clock. Four seconds between glory and another devastating defeat to the arch rivals.

Alas, the pass is incomplete and the Trojans storm the field to bury their cheesy sword deep in Irish turf.

But wait, there's more! After further review, it turns out there's one second left! That's right, now there's one second between glory and another devastating defeat to the arch rivals. The stadium shakes to its ancient foundations under the weight of 80,000 screaming fans. Even Touchdown Jesus seems to be standing on the edge of his reflecting pool for a better view.

Alas, another pass goes incomplete, and the suffering continues for another long year. But what an epic finish. Unbelievable drama on the goal line. College football at its best.