brokedown palace

Years ago, I purchased an old movie theater that had been vacant for many years. At the time, I had visions of saving the structure. Then, I thought, I’d get some grant money to fix it up and return it to its former glory. I pictured it as a vibrant part of a reborn neighborhood, and, I must admit, I looked forward to the day that I’d be called a hero by preservationists for saving it from the wrecking ball.

The grant money never came through, the neighborhood continued to deteriorate, and people’s moviegoing habits changed. Recently, the roof caved in on the place and now the city wants to tear it down. While it breaks my heart to look at my dream and picture how it will soon look as another vacant lot, what hurts the most right now are all the shrill, harsh words from infuriated preservationists who now criticize me as a failure and cite me as an example of what the city does not need. Where were all these people years ago, when I put up my own money in the hope of saving a then-forgotten landmark? Why is it they can mobilize on a moment’s notice to wave signs and bark complaints in front of a camera? A group of them swinging hammers could’ve fixed the theater’s roof in one day.

—Dr. Doolittle

The Practical Cogitator: so you bought a building with your own money, hoping you’d get grant money to fix it? Is that right? And the grant money never came through? And you never fixed the building? And then the building deteriorated to the point of collapse? And you think people should feel sorry for you? You say the neighborhood deteriorated? What does that mean? that your building can deteriorate too? And fall on the neighbors? You think the preservationists should fix your building?

You bought it, pal. You need to fix it, maintain it properly, and keep the people who live around it safe. You need to pay your taxes. You need to get a grip. If you own any other property, I suggest you sell it. Your unfulfilled dreams can ruin lives.

Ruthless says: Recent years have seen the emergence of vehement and vocal groups dubbed NIMBYs (Not In My Back Yard) and BANANAs (Build Absolutely Nothing Anywhere Near Anything). Perhaps you could drown your sorrows by trying to formulate an appropriate acronym for the preservationists who plague you. But then again, you protesting their protests makes you a protester too.

Jimmy the Arm says: Listen up, putz, and listen good. I could have fixed your fucking roof last summer, and you know it! I was there, my guys were there…7am, ladders ready. I walked you through the whole thing, wrote your fucking quotes and whatnot. “No, no, I can’t afford that,” you said. What the fuck do you think? You can put a piece of clear plastic up and call it a day? Dipshits like you give contractors like me fucking nightmares. “I’m waiting on insurance money and the blah, blah, blah,” you say. Fuck you, everybody’s got to eat! Me and my guys don’t spend all day reading magazines and talking with your this and that urban revitalization assholes, whatever, while you’re sucking down your precious latte. And it ain’t like I didn’t give you options! We could’ve patched the fucking thing so good you could never tell there was a hole in the first place! I even told you I got some scrap supplies, give me what you can now, we’ll work it out later. No. You get some teenage numbnuts to crawl up there, shaking like a fucking leaf, to put down a plastic drop-cloth with a few bricks? You can’t afford to fix a Maserati, don’t buy the fucking Maserati! I’m only sorry the whole fucking building didn’t collapse on your cheapskate ass! And I hope the preservationists grind you into a fine pesto.

By the way, if any of yous are looking for some home improvement-type projects, we got two teams ready to go. Fair and friendly service.

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