People Say We Are Friends But We’re Really Auguring

The Observer discovers another great thing about lesbians:

They have a natural property: auguring increases in property values.

Shady!

Well, we’ll always have those trees:

The city completed just 51 of the 127 milestones Bloomberg laid out in 2007 when he first announced a sweeping plan to plant a million trees, lay hundreds of miles of bike lanes, build housing near mass transit and take other steps to improve the city’s climate.

Rage Against The Eminent Domain Machine

Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me. And now you do what they told ya:

For the past six years, Daniel Goldstein has been at the center of just about every rally, house party, concert and lawsuit opposed to the $4.9 billion Atlantic Yards project near Downtown Brooklyn.

He wielded a bullhorn and had a lightning-fast e-mail response to every incursion by the developer Bruce C. Ratner on the 22-acre project site at Atlantic and Flatbush Avenues. As the project advanced, and every one his neighbors abandoned his building on Pacific Street, Mr. Goldstein remained with his wife and child, vowing never to be dislodged from their seventh-floor condominium.

But on Wednesday afternoon, Mr. Goldstein, the last residential holdout in Mr. Ratner’s way, agreed to walk away from his apartment by May 7 for $3 million. Mr. Goldstein, 40, also agreed to step down as spokesman for Develop Don’t Destroy Brooklyn, the main group opposing Atlantic Yards. And he said he would withdraw from any litigation and not “actively oppose the project,” although he said he held on to his First Amendment rights.

Here’s Goldstein’s statement: “My home was seized by the government to give to a private developer.”

Location Scout: Atlantic Yards.

Listen For My Store On Wheels Dingaling At G8

Mr. Softee’s plan to control the world:

But more recently, Mr. Softee has pointed its cone-headed logo in a different direction, far from the brownstones of Brooklyn or the flats of London.

. . .

Now this staple of New York City life is being served 7,000 miles away, on the streets of Suzhou, an ancient city of more than six million people about 50 miles west of Shanghai. Mr. Softee or Mr. Soft Heart, the English translation of “ruan xin xian sheng” — there is no Mandarin word for Softee — has been a hit, with sales doubling every year since the first truck started rolling three years ago.

See also: Mr. Softee.

At Least It’s Good For Something

The Times interviews the beleaguered people who live along the Cross-Bronx Expressway:

For the tens of thousands of commuters who pass through the tangled crossing each day, the drive is a grinding torture. But for many of those who live alongside the Cross Bronx, the slow-moving river of traffic provides not only a steady soundtrack, but also entertainment, consolation and even wisdom.

. . .

Mr. Ramirez, a retired police officer, smokes a cigar every afternoon as he walks his dog, Peanut, on a patch of grass overlooking the highway intersections.

“You think you’re the only person on the planet, but you come here and see all the people,” he said, gesturing with his cigar stub to a line of cars. “It clears my mind. I don’t feel alone when I come here.”

“If I’m having trouble with my wife,” he added, “I come here and watch the traffic. I thought I had problems, but look at these poor people. They sit in this traffic every day. These people have it so bad compared to me.”

Here’s an idea for the busybodies at the Department of Transportation — why not throw a bone to the truckers for once and make the Cross-Bronx Expressway trucks only during busy times? Because reducing congestion isn’t just for Manhattan, right?