Whatever Puts Butts In Seats . . .

It takes creativity to foster the next generation of museumgoers:

This spring the venerable New York Historical Society’s Saturday Academy will offer a series of free courses meant to bring history alive for young people. The series, which also includes free SAT prep for students in grades 10 – 12, runs from March 10 to April 28.

In the hip-hop class, called “Hip-Hop In Context,” students will listen to pivotal songs like “Cop Killer” by Ice-T’s 1990s group Body Count [. . .]

The truly sad thing is that the heavy metal crossover of Body Count was actually pretty terrible . . .

Put That In Your Pitchfork!

Martin Bisi, the guy who caught the cop sleeping, a story that resonated for people who get concerned about cops falling asleep with loaded handguns in plain view, is the same guy who recorded so many indie acts over the years, including Sonic Youth and the Swans, not to mention Herbie Hancock’s “Rockit.”

Thank You, Anniversary!

I almost forgot how it feels to get freaked out transferring at Grand Central:

Because the three would-be terrorists have common names, cops have been unable to pinpoint their exact location, sources said.

The operatives are allegedly targeting transit hubs with car bombs — and not a chemical attack or so-called nuclear-laced “dirty bomb.”

Intel also suggests the Al Qaeda operatives were planning the strike for Sunday, the 10-year anniversary of the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks.

Happy Birthday, Map!

The Times pays tribute to the 200th anniversary of the street grid that made Manhattan boring — er, a real estate boon:

Two hundred years ago on Tuesday, the city’s street commissioners certified the no-frills street matrix that heralded New York’s transformation into the City of Angles — the rigid 90-degree grid that spurred unprecedented development, gave birth to vehicular gridlock and defiant jaywalking, and spawned a new breed of entrepreneurs who would exponentially raise the value of Manhattan’s real estate.

The paper floods the zone with coverage, including this:

John Randel Jr., the secretary, surveyor and chief engineer for New York City’s street commissioners, was hardly the most popular public servant of his day.

Beginning in 1808, Randel and his colleagues were pelted with artichokes and cabbages; arrested by the sheriff for trespassing (and often bailed out by Richard Varick, a former mayor); sued for damages after pruning trees; and attacked by dogs sicced on them by property owners irate at the prospect of streets’ being plowed through their properties (“many of whose descendants have been made rich thereby,” Randel noted later).

I Would Ask If This Is An Example Of Irony But I Can’t See Around The Giant Inflatable Rat In My Face

First off, Happy Birthday, Giant Inflatable Union Rat — it turned 20 this year. The Daily News marks the occasion and notes that even though the thing has been used to great effect by the city’s unions to inform the public about non-union work sites (or whatever they’re using them for), there is actually no giant inflatable rat-maker union:

The vinyl vermin quietly marked their 20th birthday this year. The folks at Illinois-based Big Sky Balloons and Searchlights, creators of the inflatables, made their first rat for a Chicago bricklayers union in 1990.

Business was soon blowing up — the rats became an instant, unlikely symbol of corporate greed and anti-union work sites.

The company — a nonunion shop, by the way — says the majority of its business is done on the East Coast. The rats range in height from a relatively small 6-footer to the super-sized 25-footer.

The costs can run upward of $8,000.

See also: Union Rat.