That lower central building was constructed to better accomodate future King Kong visits.
I always thought I was bad at Simcity, but according to New York City I'm doing just fine. If you made New York in that game, none of your zones would develop and you'd keep getting 43% crime warnings and you'd spend all your money building highways that no cars ever went on. And I couldn't find the power plant anywhere!

The vehicle containing me made its way past where the largest structures once were. What were they called, the salt and pepper shakers or something. It was... to be quite honest, it had no emotional effect on me. I suppose the effect of their absense is lost somewhat if you had never seen the area while they were still in it. I've seen photographs, but the ones people took while standing in the road generally did not find their ways to promotional items. What is in the space now cannot be known; there's a fairly large fence obstructing the view of it. We wouldn't want to slow traffic to sub-walk speed, with people staring at it for prolonged periods from their automobiles, would we. That we do so anyway even though there's not a thing to see is a testament to the indomitable human idiot. Spirit, excuse me. Maybe people just like looking at fences.

En guarde!

What a fool I've been! This was a gift! I really should have researched your earth customs more before I came here. Or researched my operator's manual's landing function atmospheric callibration instructions before I crashed my ship.

Why aren't any of the buildings in the background colored like that?

This place is scary.

Ehhh, to decent beings, at least. In every other town I've been to, birds will fly away when a human draws near. However, New York City birds have no fear. I suspect this has been the case for a long time, but with the rapid rise of "bird flu" panic late last year, which I visited in the midst of, these flying fiends were nothing less than cocky. A word which, by the way, contrary to what google might tell you, is named after a type of bird.

Birds are so deceitful, I'm surprised it doesn't say 'PORK.'

It's hard to take pictures of specific objects while within a movement-restricting vehicle, but my target was the billboard. No, the other one. See it. What is it selling? It sells nothing. It is only there to let you know that birds are in charge here. There are no words, as "tweet tweet" means nothing to humans. In case you almost missed them, the PARK sign also points out the birds. There's no parking for you, eih, unless you are a bird.

As if the pigeons weren't bad enough (though certainly they are) now ducks are moving in. And there will be more. There will be many ducks. So many ducks are coming, the moving company sees a profit opportunity and specifically advertises its duck services. Or a scarier possibility: The ducks started the company themselves.

What no one tells you before you've entered and made it too late, is New York is the home of Bird Land. Or rather, they call the headquarters Bird Land to throw you off, but really, New York City is Bird Land. The police, the mayor, even the governor have no real power. The birds run the city. Some public servants have even gone so far as to join the other side, whether in exchange for money or merely their lives. Michael Bloombird was always a coward.

I would not dare approach the stronghold (and also, like before, it's kind of hard to get a picture of something if you're in a moving car and don't know there's something you want a picture of up ahead), so I stole some other website's picture. I stole several websites' pictures, in fact. I do not remote-link them, though; I made copies. I cannot risk the birds tracing the bandwidth drain and finding me. They are full of sneaky schemes and wicked trickery! The suspicious blank space in front of the entrance is actually a hidden trapdoor to capture any "walkers" who try to enter. So even regarding those within their own ranks birds are scoundrels; ostriches are not welcome.

Much like the Iraqi insurgency, when it was only a small organization with limited power, Bird Land distributed promotional, I might even say propogandal literature. And music albums as well, it seems. After the initial release 57 Minutes of Shrill Identical Chirps failed to convert the public, the birds began kidnapping established human musicians and forcing them to perform at bird-benefitting events. As you can see, this has been going on for quite some time.

Forget a night at bird land. You'll spend your life there if they catch you.

Swingin'? From a noose, maybe. The birds are entirely without ruth. This man, clearly holding back tears, uses his left hand to offer an absurd cash payment to the birds pointing guns at his family.

That's durn right you'll have to live at bird land. Until the masters decide they have no more use for you, and then you won't be living anywhere.

Anyway, I passed by Bird Land.

I heard that the USS Intrepid is a museum, but what kind specifically, I was not told. I think it would be neat if the staff had converted the interior of an aircraft-carrier into a dilophosaurus exhibit.

Why would anyone want to buy the Brooklyn Bridge? That one beyond it is much fancier and probably was constructed by more reliable technology.

Is this really the best place to put your see-saw?

I'll keep that in mind.

I can fully understand the appeal New York city has for [non-hostile] foreigners. It would be marvelous to see the pictures and lights, all the bright colors, but not instantly and reflexorily read the advertising print they are meant to draw me towards. Even if I knew some English, if it wasn't the first, automatic language, I might look, get a few words in and realize "oh, this is trying to sell me something" and stop reading. I'd probably recognize symbols and logos that had invaded my own country with translated labels, but I could nimbly avoid finding the meaning in any punnish slogans, annoying catchphrases or intelligence insulting taglines as they scrolled along, all but indistinguishable from the NASDAQ scores.

Would you drink anything from a place with Mercury in its name?

You probably would. This place seems to do good enough business.

The next few pictures are from inside some other place whose label was not as well illuminated.

There's a lot more space in the seating machines than those found at Connecticut restaraunts of this type, but I'd much prefer if they used it to expand the street instead.

You could buy a full BOX of cereal for that price. However, you'd have to get the cereal out of the box yourself, wouldn't you!
Also, strawberries and bananas are no longer fruit. I was very shocked to learn that about strawberries, yes.

This dinering establishment does a very good job making soup that tastes like it came from a can. That's the only kind I've had, so I couldn't complain regarding that aspect. Alas.

I did not order this sandwich. I do not blame meself that whoever did failed to finish. It tastes like a garden. The bacon's there just for the cholesterol; its flavor cannot be discerned. Turkey meat I never much liked anyway. The mural similarly unimpresses me. Gee, I couldn't see all that just by looking outside at all. Is there any city on earth more obsessed with itself? And in regards to such negative, commercial aspects of itself, at that? At least Las Vegas pretends it is places other than Las Vegas.

A sign outside the diner boasted that it was voted best in New York by some local newspaper or something. However, there are probably lots of local newspapers or somethings. Also, it didn't give a year. Maybe it was best of New York in 1976 when there were less diners and before all the good staff got hired away by the other diners that looked less like Denny'ses. Or maybe all the other diners in Nyork are just worse.

The Denny's appearance worked, though, since the pancakes and bacon I ordered tasted just about the same as the rubbery substances that came with my last 11:30pm Lumberjack Slam Breakfast, just a bit smaller, without the eggs, for two dollars extra, and as many more hours worth of driving further from my home. Oh, and so much louder. With a lot more walking to and from the vehicle. I hate this place.

Leaving, are you? That is one way to do it, yes.