Tag Archives: scrap

Mr. Blog Meets The Scrappers (part one)

1 Sep

September 1, 2010

If you live in the southern part of Brooklyn you probably know the 18th Avenue Feast. Every year the neighborhood gathers together to celebrate Santa Rosalia and buy bootleg CD’s.

I’ve been there too many times to mention and it has gotten a bit boring. Same dunk the clown booth year after year, same bad music by “local artists” who never heard of Bensonhurst, same 14 year old girls trying to look like Snooki. But this year was different.

This year, some true “local artists” had set up a booth to meet their fans.

I’m not referring to The Hong Kong Master Tailor or The ROTNAC, I mean the true local artists, the hard-working heroes, those Spike Television sensations, yes! The Scrappers.

The Scrappers had set up a tent right in the middle of the feast. And like you would expect, it looked like crap. It was a double-wide dirty white tent with the sides rolled up. I’m sure they salvaged it from some carnival they were scrapping. The only sign to tell you what was in it was a small, loose-leaf paper-sized  sign spray painted with “Scrappers at the 18th Avenue Feast!”

In front of the tent was a long folding table filled with piles of cheap t-shirts. Cheap as in quality, not price. I don’t know how much they were because they had no signs anywhere and I was not about to ask.

So why didn’t I ask? You’d expect me to have something to say to these guys, right? Well wrong, not these guys. Despite a small portable DVD on the corner of the table showing the last episode of Scrappers, these guys were not the Scrappers. Oh, I’m sure they were some scrappers, little “s,” but not the Scrappers, big “S.” They must have sold some old gas pipes or something at one time, but these guys never had a TV show. They looked a whole lot more like the guys the Rolling Stones hired for security at Altamont. They were milling around, scowling, and punching each other.  If these guys decided to call themselves Scrappers and sell some shirts, I sure as hell wasn’t going to stop them. But I was sure that if I asked how much the shirts cost A- I would be forced to buy one and B- my wallet would be a whole lot lighter. (“Hey, what do you mean $20 is too expensive? Now you’re buying two for $50.”)

For all the world, it looked like some random goombas decided to throw together a tent and sell rip-off t-shirts.

To be fair, despite there being seven guys who were totally not Scrappers, there was actually one real Scrapper there. While everyone else was walking around and swearing, eating slices of pizza, showing off bad tattoos, and generally being obnoxious, Frank Noots himself was sitting in the center of the tent drinking one beer while a guy handed him another. Staring off into space, he looked almost, but not quite, totally wasted.  Too bad that wasn’t really a Picasso he found on the show this week.

One would almost swear that the roadie-looking thugs had kidnapped and drugged him just so they could claim they were a real Scrapper booth. (“One” would, but not me, because those guys looked dangerous.)

Nowhere was the Spike TV logo anywhere present, nor a single Spike camera, not even a Dino or Mimmo, lucky for them. I hope that means there won’t be a season two. That way Dino and Mimmo can go back to kidnapping old women. (Missed this week’s show? Shame on you.)

A little perspective:

On the next block, WCBS had set up a tent half the size of the Scrappers and people were lined up six deep to get “Brooklyn’s Own” Joe Causi’s autograph. (And yes, one of them was me.) Not far the other way, Lucy’s Sausage had customers lined up six deep for a sweet sausage and peppers. (And yes, one of them was me.) By contrast, the Scrappers booth had no one in front of it. A few people stood a good twelve feet away and wondered if the scrappers were going to attack them if they crossed the neutral zone. (And yes, one of them was me.)

They had what looked like hundreds of t-shirts on the table and I’d be willing to bet they didn’t sell more than a dozen. Even the people in the booth weren’t wearing them.

They’d have done much better with a bootleg CD.

And I have great ideas for T-shirts.

 

Other products too.

 

As Maury Povitch says,

TUNE IN SOON FOR THE INCREDIBLE UPDATE!!!!

Spike TV’s Scrappers, Week Two

11 Aug

August 11, 2010

“Spike TV’s” Scrappers. Like that’s something to be proud of. That’s the kind of television that made Elvis shoot out his TV set.

Scrappers was on again last night so I threw my TV out the window.

At least I would have if I didn’t think one of those guys would troll by  and pick it up and sell it.

You ever see the vans they drive? I can’t believe they ever passed inspection. Remember the Star Trek episode The Trouble With Tribbles? That one, in addition to being one of the few episodes where Kirk didn’t get any alien babes, was the one where the Klingons and the Enterprise crew got into a brawl. Why? As the Klingon commander put it, “I didn’t say the Enterprise should be hauling garbage,” he said. “I said it should be hauled away as garbage!”, he clarified.  That is the scrap vans, summed up perfectly. If they want to make some money they should first junk their trucks.

But then how would they carry scrap? Who cares? That would end the show, so I’m all for it.

Anyway, as you know if you’ve seen a frame of the show, these jerky junkmen aren’t too smart. Said one (Noots? Was it it Noots? These guys are interchangeably dumb.) “I always wanted to own my own scrap yard.” Yeah, dare to dream, Bababooey. That was the dream of every kindergarten kid who got dropped on his head when he was born. Of course, this guy actually did it- he accomplished his dream! He owned a scrap yard! And he lost it. How hard could it be to run a junkyard? Fred Sanford did it. How pathetic can you be to actually lose your junkyard?  I bet it wasn’t one of those cool junkyards like on TLC’s Junkyard Wars. Those places had rocket engines hidden in the trash.

Noots probably had nothing more than a rusty ’79 Impala.

You may have missed it, because normal people who don’t blog about this stuff have better things to do, but Dino and Mimeograph put out a video to advertise their scrap business. Like the ancient heroes of myth, Dino and Mimeograph defy the Gods to stop them, and the Gods send deadly forces of nature to destroy them.  Check out this video, and watch closely!- as Drippo and Mippo survive “earthqwakes” and “sunamis.”

Am I the only one who noticed that those guys look just like former WWF wrestler The Brooklyn Brawler?

Daddy Dino? Or Pappa Mimmo?

So what happened this week on the show? It may or may not have been the same thing as last week. It is all kind of a headache inducing blur. Here is how TiVo described this week’s episodes:
 
Darren makes a mess while taking a boiler out of a building; a spat with Frankie turns into a slap fight; Sal tows his first car and smashes a Lexus.
 
A web guru puts Dino and Mimmo online; Frankie and Darren find porn; Sal’s patience is tested by a deli freezer and truck-driving lessons for Greg.
 

A slap fight? A sissy boy slap fight? “Frankie and Darren find porn.” I am sooo not going there. Just remember- if the scrap van is a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’.