The Steaks Are High

As we embark on yet another presidential primary season—God help us—it’s worth noting how absurd and pathetic our politics have become. And it’s not just politics, sad to say, but seemingly everything else in the culture at-large. A few notes on the omnipresent madness: The price of beef is off the charts—the steaks are high, really. Two orders of hamburgers and fries at my favorite diner tallies up to $30 before the tip. Inflation may be leveling off from its peak, but I’m not seeing the prices of orange juice, coffee, and cereal trending south. The state of the economy should be the defining issue in 2024. In the good old days, it was the economy, stupid—always. However, now the two major parties appear more interested in raving on and on and on about cultural issues, which matter, of course, but not at the expense of the bread-and-butter issues. The sky is forever falling, and democracy is ever hanging in the balance, but recently a bag of Frito’s corn chips cost me over $5—“Ay, ay, ay!”

Honestly, the mere thought of a Joe Biden versus Donald Trump rematch is profoundly depressing. What, pray tell, has happened to us? Old Joe is one slip and fall away from crumbling into dust. And The Donald is under indictment for retaining classified documents, making false statements, and obstructing justice—let me count the ways—not to mention that January 6th thing. Serious business, folks. I’m all for the return of selecting candidates in smoke-filled backrooms. The end-results were typically better than what the primary process regurgitates nowadays. Smoking, though, is outlawed in all rooms in 2023, and the party bosses just ain’t what they used to be. So, I won’t hold my breath awaiting vape-filled backrooms restoring some sanity to the body politic.

On another front closer to home: Life in the big city has taken a very wide turn for the worse. Mayor Adams blames the media for obsessing on crime stories. Maybe it’s because there are so many of them! What I see with my own two eyes in my little snippet of the world is an obvious decline in the quality of life. Speed Racers are ubiquitous on the residential backstreets where I call home. With their revved up, popping engines, they shake, rattle, and roll residents morning, noon, and night—accidents waiting to happen. Oh, and then there’s the countless scooters and electric bicycles traversing the roads—stop signs and red lights be damned—and the sidewalks, too. The demoralized police turn a blind eye, and I can’t really blame them in this depraved age where up is down and down is up.

I’ve also noticed an uptick of individuals discarding their lunch remains and spent lottery ticket stubs and scratch-offs outside their vehicles. Exiting their cars and walking several yards to a garbage can is too much to ask, I guess. Often, I’m called upon to clean up dozens of “Win 4” stubs blowing in the wind—not an enviable task and dispiriting as well.

And another thing: The multiple pot and smoke shops—most of them unlicensed and unregulated—plying their trades on the main thoroughfare and throughout the city. In April, it was estimated that there were 1,500 shops in town and only seven were legal operations. It just seems odd that the city fathers and mothers, who would shutter a place that was selling alcohol without a license, or cigarettes for that matter, in a heartbeat, permit so many illegal businesses in this field to go on their merry way.

To add one further quality of life issue, accompany me to my local drugstore chains, where most merchandise is under lock and key. Patrons must ring a buzzer to get everything from Werther’s Original candies to Preparation H to Tide Pods laundry detergent. Once upon a time, I regularly shopped at a local Rite-Aid, but buzzer shopping just isn’t for me. Amazon is a lifesaver. Still, I’d like to believe that there is light at the end of the tunnel, but I fear that it is Bud Light.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)