And not only that, but the man was a recidivist (are you still a recidivist if you didn’t get caught the first time? I leave that to you, gentle reader). Matt Katz reports:
A man stole more than 15 pounds of pricey snow crab legs from the Chelsea Whole Foods over the course of a week, police said.
Ahelah Browne, 36, stole five $64 3.165-pound packages of crab legs from the 250 Seventh Ave. store before he was arrested Tuesday, police said.
The accused thief swiped seafood on Feb. 22, 24, 27 and 28, and on March 1, the NYPD said.
Browne was arrested after a Whole Foods manager took video surveillance footage to the 10th Precinct, police said. Authorities charged Browne with petit larceny for the thefts, which totaled $320.
Well, now that you’re up to date on today’s breaking news, there’s only one thing to do.
So spring training has started, which is a nice thought given the ridiculous weather here, but given the Olympics and whatnot, there hasn’t yet been much buzz. But it seems that at least someone has noticed. Check out this dude watching Yankees spring training camp:
I love that. Happy spring. Almost.
The guitarist from Devo died.
Bob Casale, a guitarist who was an original member of the influential rock band Devo, died on Monday. He was 61. Devo (the name is short for “devolution”) began in Akron, Ohio, in the early 1970s and first attracted national attention in 1977 with a frenzied version of the Rolling Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.”
The group’s first album, “Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!,” produced by Brian Eno, was released in 1978; its off-kilter rhythms, deadpan lyrics and use of electronics quickly attracted a following and had a strong influence on the music that came to be known as new wave.
Devo’s longtime drummer Alan Myers died last year.
They’re dropping like flies, man.
So I happened to be watching TV this morning when the ceremony welcoming France’s philandering President (redundant, I know) Hollande to the White House was going on. Classic, very nice ceremony with Hail to the Chief, the Star-Spangled Banner, and the French national anthem, the Marseillaise.
Now I’m no great fan of France, well, except for their food, wine, culture, etc. But the French themselves, eh. But I have always been extremely fond of their national anthem. And for this I credit Messrs. Bogart and Henreid. And Ingrid Bergman, who I love.
… from the Partridge Family died. I had no idea that his name wasn’t actually Reuben Kincaid. I assumed that was a name you couldn’t really make up.
Dave Madden, a comic actor who played the child-hating agent on the hit 1970s sitcom “The Partridge Family,” died on Thursday in Florida. He was 82. “The Partridge Family,” which ran on ABC from September 1970 to March 1974, revolved around a widowed mother and her five children who form a band. Towering and rumpled, Mr. Madden played Reuben Kincaid, the agent who managed the band and regularly clashed with its impish preteen bassist, played by Danny Bonaduce.
The series starred Shirley Jones, with her real-life stepson David Cassidy as the resident heartthrob. But it was Mr. Madden and the freckle-faced Mr. Bonaduce who were the reigning comic duo. “His relationship with Danny Bonaduce is what made the show work,” Ms. Jones said of Mr. Madden on Thursday, “this strange, mad little boy and the grown man who was even worse as a father figure.”
Though Mr. Madden played a man bedeviled by the youngsters surrounding him, off camera he “loved kids,” Ms. Jones said.
Personally, I always liked Susan Dey. Well, rest in peace Mr. Madden.
We’re having a morbid streak here on THEG (and no, Marty, Anonymous Guy isn’t dead, and if he were, which he’s not, I didn’t kill him; I swear). But I don’t make the news, I just report it.
First, they are closing Milady’s. That’s right, another one’s gone. For those of you who don’t know it, Milady’s is (was) a great local bar in SoHo that has stubbornly remained the same (cheap, working class, mildly menacing — I recently made the mistake of walking in there in a suit and tie) through the gentrification and then Prada-ization of the neighborhood. On the one hand, it’s amazing that it lasted this long. So I come here to praise Milady’s, as well as to bury it. Jeremiah links to this intriguing writeup from Bryan Miller in the Times circa 1992:
Milady’s, at the corner of Prince and Thompson Streets in SoHo, is rather nondescript from the outside. Inside, though, about 6 P.M. on Fridays, it becomes a raucous after-work clubhouse. The spacious room has rec-room paneling, sound tile, red-and-white-checked tablecloths, Connie Francis on the jukebox and a big color television mounted overhead.
Frank Genovese, the 35-year-old owner, grew up a few blocks from the bar, and later worked there before buying it 10 years ago. “I thought of making this place much fancier than it is,” Mr. Genovese says. “But then in my experience the chi-chi places make a lot of money for a very short time — but then?” He says his bar is having its best year in memory. Milady’s is primarily a neighborhood bar, although periodically celebrities like Madonna (“She comes with two huge people and has a club soda at the bar”) and Sylvester Stallone drop in for fresh homemade ravioli or the house favorite, a charred chicken salad with five types of greens and a mustardy vinaigrette.
Edit: In my haste to post this, I neglected to note that Milady’s was bar 297 in Marty’s epic NYC bar crawl. You should go over there and read all about Marty’s visit way back in 2010, but here’s a taste:
The second morbid item of the day is to note the passing of Judy Protas at the ripe old age of 91. Who is Judy Protas, you ask? Well, she’s the writer who came up with the ridiculously brilliant “You don’t have to be Jewish to love Levy’s” advertising campaign. Talk about leaving your mark. Rest in peace, Ms. Protas. I hope there’s lots of rye bread wherever you are.