Abdul Haye, the self-styled Colonel Sanders of New York’s Afghan community, has declared a fried chicken war.

“I’m declaring war against all the Afghans in New York who have stolen my name and my idea,” Mr. Haye said the other day at one of his five chicken outlets, showing off the trademark certificate that the United States Patent and Trademark Office in Washington had awarded him in 2005. He waved a thick stack of some of the 300 registered letters he began to mail last week to Kennedy outlets across the country, insisting that they pay him a monthly franchise fee, or face legal action. “Their poor-quality chicken is going to kill my reputation,” Mr. Haye complained. “I am the only real Kennedy!”

One corner of the Duane Reade store on Bedford Avenue in the Williamsburg neighborhood has Fire Island Lighthouse Ale and eight other beers on tap, with growlers — refillable glass bottles — lining the walls. Uniformed clerks-cum-beer-experts fill the growlers and conduct tastings only — sorry, no pints served. Behind a bar, a large walk-in refrigerator stocks common national brands as well as local, craft and imported beers. “We knew we would have a little bit of a battle to try to bring Duane Reade into this community, because they really don’t like a chain store,” said Paul Tiberio, senior vice president for merchandising and marketing at the company.

The Williamsburg beer bar is part of a larger effort by Duane Reade to recognize — and capitalize — on the fierce identity and local needs of many New York City neighborhoods.

Just as waiting tables in fashionable restaurants gives aspiring actors access to New York’s movers and shakers, bedbug hunting can provide a platform for making connections with “high-up people in the New York scene,” [one aspiring actor] said, adding that she was already offered several babysitting gigs from her bedbug job.

Manhattan prosecutors are giving credence to the bizarre-sounding “assisted suicide” defense of an ex-con charged with brutally stabbing Long Island motivational speaker Jeffrey Locker — found dead and robbed in his car in East Harlem last summer.

“This is like a TV movie. You just don’t see this kind of thing happen. The sad thing is, he can’t do it himself. He goes to Harlem and he hires some beleaguered guy from the street, a down and out guy who’s a total stranger.”

The cabbie beat up by thugs dressed as Super Mario Brothers spoke out about his ordeal Sunday and demanded tougher laws against assaults on taxi drivers.

“I was really scared. . . . At the time, I really think I’m going to die,” said Ndiaye Serigne, 48, of Harlem, who was robbed and pummeled by four men dressed as Mario, Luigi and other characters at a gas station.