Police Shoot and Kill Man Outside Hotel in Times Square

NEW YORK TIMES -- A plainclothes police sergeant fatally shot a 25-year-old man on Thursday morning outside the Marriott Marquis Hotel in Times Square after confronting the man, who he believed had been a part of a scam to use CDs to intimidate tourists, the authorities said. The slain man was armed with a loaded Mac-10 semiautomatic machine pistol and had fired first, the police said.

On the man’s body, police found a business card for a Virginia gun dealer, Gary A. Lewis, who runs Gary’s Guns & Transfers in Manakin-Sabot, a pair of villages northwest of Richmond.*

Hand-written on the back of the card, the police said, were these words: “I just finished watching ‘The Last Dragon.’ I feel sorry for a cop if he think I’m getting into his paddy wagon.” The gun had been reported stolen in Richmond on Oct. 28, the police said.

And that, as they say, was that. A delusional young man... *This will give leverage to Mayor Bloomberg's law suit seeking to sue gun dealers in southern states who casually supply guns which end up on NYC streets.

Checking in With 1666

From Samuel Pepys' Diary, this day, December 7th, 1666, a Friday; I like Pepys' sentences, which run on, and on, and then on... and I imagine him writing his entries at night, quite tired, perhaps even quite drunk)

Up, and by water to the Exchequer, where I got my tallys finished for the last quarter for Tangier, and having paid all my fees I to the Swan, whither I sent for some oysters, and thither comes Mr. Falconbridge and Spicer and many more clerks; and there we eat and drank, and a great deal of their sorry discourse, and so parted, and I by coach home, meeting Balty in the streete about Charing Crosse walking, which I am glad to see and spoke to him about his mustering business, I being now to give an account how the several muster-masters have behaved themselves, and so home to dinner, where finding the cloth laid and much crumpled but clean, I grew angry and flung the trenchers about the room, and in a mighty heat I was: so a clean cloth was laid, and my poor wife very patient, and so to dinner, and in comes Mrs. Barbara Sheldon, now Mrs. Wood, and dined with us, she mighty fine, and lives, I perceive, mighty happily, which I am glad [of] for her sake, but hate her husband for a block-head in his choice.

So away after dinner, leaving my wife and her, and by water to the Strand, and so to the King’s playhouse, where two acts were almost done when I come in; and there I sat with my cloak about my face, and saw the remainder of “The Mayd’s Tragedy;” a good play, and well acted, especially by the younger Marshall, who is become a pretty good actor, and is the first play I have seen in either of the houses since before the great plague, they having acted now about fourteen days publickly. But I was in mighty pain lest I should be seen by any body to be at a play.

Soon as done I home, and then to my office awhile, and then home and spent the night evening my Tangier accounts, much to my satisfaction, and then to supper, and mighty good friends with my poor wife, and so to bed.

"For Continuous Shite"

... check your Spam. A peculiar, not-quite-right visual metaphor for fake / bargain / bogus Cialis.

Did Somebody Say 'Hall of Fame'?

No sooner did I mention the desolate Hall of Fame for Great Americans languishing in the Bronx, than the New York Times also has a go.