It takes a lot to shut New Yorkers up, especially this one. But every once in a while I see a photo that leaves me speechless. Here’s one, sent by my friend Jacqueline:
Pork for Hanukkah?
The only way to deepen the irony would be to add a shrimp cocktail appetizer. (For those unfamiliar with Jewish dietary laws, neither pork nor shrimp is kosher.)
One more, from a barber shop:
You have to ask for scissors?
I won’t comment on “hair line clean up,” though that line makes me picture barbers with pointy sticks and trash bags, patrolling the border between forehead and hair, like work-release prisoners on a garbage-strewn beach. Instead, I’ll focus on the middle line. I know little about barbering tools, and my “stylist,” who refrains from sighing when he asks if I want “the usual” during my thrice yearly visits, snips away with scissors automatically. So I’m perplexed. If you don’t request scissors at this salon, how does the barber cut your hair? With a lawn mower? A scythe?
Okay, I wasn’t speechless after all. If you aren’t either, please feel free to add your comments.