Philly Blunt

Freelance writer. Editor and web-video producer. Former Atlantic City Press and Philadelphia Weekly staff writer, City Paper managing editor/columnist and Dougherty for Senate campaign manager. Comments welcome here or emailed to brianhickey9 [at] hotmail. Now on: Facebook (Brian Hickey, in Philly) Twitter at www.twitter.com/brianhickey Flickr at http://www.flickr.com/people/brianhickey/. Be sure to check out Hickey on Divorce Court: divorcecourting.blogspot.com.

27 February 2009

The Boot Fist Day


I'll long remember today as 1 A.N. (After Norman). He's the flamboyant creature whose American Idol performance of that song from, aptly, Dreamgirls -- I think -- mesmorized an entire junk-food-TV-watching nation but didn't earn him enough votes to edge out some dude who seems fit for a Rocky Horror redux.
A horror, indeed. And, literally, a rocky horror, if you consider the fact today, the nation's first major-market newspaper in recent memory, the Rocky Mountain News, which enabled me to follow the Mighty Denver Broncos in style, goes down. This truly is an era of diminished levels of public discourse, for don't think for one second that more than one percent of bloggers can ferret out stories without the papers. (Bonus question: What paper do you think will be first to fold in Philly?) So, a fond farewell, RMN. I guess, for the time being, I'll have to depend on the Denver Post to see how soon-to-be-new-Bronco(?) Correll Buckhalter is doin'.
But neither Norman Gentile (aka Nick Mitchell) nor faltering newspapers is the reason for the title of this post. Oh, no no no. This picture is:

Now, those of you wit' keen eyes will be able to immediately think, "Hey, that an amour-assisting fist-toy just like the one I have!" Well, congrats. Because you're an advanced creature. Allow me to explain.
A couple years back, I was staying over at my friends' home in NYC and the conversation turned to the fact that this man and his bride were walking through a store in the, I think, Village when they noticed a big wooden fist displayed.

(Wooden fist found on the first line of a Google photo shoot)

Proudly displayed, mind you. Now, they didn't purchase said wooden fist, but fully intended to go back and do so. Alas, it wasn't meant to be.
Fast forward to yesterday when my computer greeted me with a message from the female half of this couple. In part, it read:
Great news! I found the fist!! ... Will just 1 do?

My jaw hit the ground. First, I thought, no, just one will most certainly not do for I have an ambitious economy-saving project planned. Second, I emailed the other half of the NYC couple to tell him his bride had FOUND THE WOODEN FIST!
Fast-forward a couple hours and he'd gone to the store to check it out and realized, much to our dismay, that the fist wasn't wooden at all, but PVC. He wrote:
As I expected, [my wife] is not a connisseur of fists. She did indeed see A fist, but not THE fist. As I checked it out and tried to snap a pic, a couple middle eastern men who operate the shop bum rushed me in an attempt to prevent me from capturing a shot of the elusive fist. Attached [the photo up top of this post] is all I was able to walk away with, but had it been the larger wooden version we've been on a holy grail to discover it would be on its way to you now. Anyway, the search continues...

Added his wife:
So sorry for the false alarm...I saw a fist but it was plastic, which I'm told is for low class amateurs.

Now, of course, she has nothing to apologize for.
But the quest continues.
Know of a wooden-fist dispensary in the 215? By all means, let me know. I have a lot of spare time these days. (I can't help but think, though: If we'd thought to ask Norman Gentile, I think a fist would be in transit today.)

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