Tag: ohatlanta

Gentrification Station, what’s your location?

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Ever since I moved back out to the ‘burbs and no longer have a job in Midtown/Downtown proper, I don’t miss the city one bit.  I have little to no business going into the city anymore, and I don’t miss it one iota.  I used to feel like I was missing out on the pulse of Atlanta if I didn’t at least work inside city proper, but that ship of importance has long since sailed a couple times around the planet by now.  I just don’t give a fuck about what’s going on in the city, nor does it actually matter to me anymore.

However, #2’s recent baby modeling engagements have required us to go back into the city, and as a once-in-a-while kind of thing, I was looking forward to seeing just how much has changed over the last few years.  And gee, by golly, how things have changed a lot since I used to have frequent business there.

Sure, there are a few new skyscrapers that I had no idea sprang up like they were dropped in from the sky like in Sim City, but that’s not what I’m here to talk about.  I’m here to talk about the bomb of gentrification that seems to have plopped itself on the western edge of the city, and they’re all too eager to let you know about it.

West Midtown was definitely becoming a thing when I still worked in the city and when mythical then-gf was living within city proper.  Basically starting at around Georgia Tech, everything west and going north of campus was developing rapidly, especially off of the Howell Mill and Northside Drive corridors.  Going away were dilapidated lots and ram shack buildings, and all these mixed-use apartments with bougie restaurants on the ground were appearing.  The gentrification wand was definitely shaking its fairy dust all over this area.

But going back into the city on South Atlanta-Marietta Blvd to avoid the usual bullshit traffic of I-75 and the connector, I drove through Upper West Midtown, which was definitely hit by the Albert Pujols baseball bat of gentrification.  As soon as you cross the Chattahoochee where Atlanta Rd. becomes Marietta Blvd, Upper West Midtown becomes a thing, and all sorts of new businesses and apartments have appeared where there were none the last time I really had any business going down this route.

It started with a Publix that was predictably victimized by the general area at first, but apparently the neighborhood has soldered through, and the gentrification bomb appears to have done some work over the last few years.  Now I have no idea if the heat map of crime has actually changed in that area, but generally with gentrification comes the pushing of riff-raff out the door.

However, the biggest transformation, I would have to say was the generally industrial neighborhood that is along Chattahoochee Ave.  In my days, this area was a generally undesirable area that I favored tremendously, because there were some real gems of restaurants amidst the off-beaten paths, but it definitely looks like the secret is out, and this place too was hit hard by the gentrification bomb.

Obviously, fewer things are whiter than microbreweries, and as mythical wife had pointed out, there are no fewer than 4-5 independent breweries that have emerged within a 1-mile radius in this area.  But while mythical wife and #2 were at the agency studio doing their baby modeling thing, #1 and I had the opportunity to explore the newly gentrified area, and I came upon a true monument to gentrification.

Christened “The Works,” this is basically a shopping center full of ridiculous businesses that I’m amazed to stay in business because they’re all galleries and use words like curated and rustic to describe their wares, and I don’t even want to go in because I feel like I’d drown in arrogance and pretentiousness.  But the biggest reason to come in was the food court, which in today’s gentrified vernacular must be referred to as a food hall, because all of the vendors are local and independent proprietors, and not like Panda Express, Popeyes, or Chick Fil-A.

As I was hungry and needed to feed my other child, #1 and I managed to drop $27 on a sandwich and a slider, and then another $12 on three fucking cookies because I wanted to treat my wife and my mom to some locally-sourced goods, but didn’t know the price before purchasing them which I’m sure is deliberate because they’re preying on people wanting to avoid the awkward scenario of refusing something upon finding out the cost. 

I mean, the quality of the lunch and cookies were definitely good, and I’m not beneath dropping $40 on such a seemingly low quantity of food, but I’m also not going to deny that it’s expensive and a little pretentious.

All the same, I would take pretentious gentrification monuments over shantytown abandoned plots of land.  As much as I want to clown on The Works and their Food Hall, it actually is still a lovely place that I’d like to fantasize about bringing the wife to for a no-kids date night in a fantastical scenario that will probably never happen.

But it’s just all too amusing to see all the very white tropes and tendencies that happen to an area when the gentrification bomb is planted and explodes.  At least all of the eateries that I remembered fondly all appear to still be there, and hopefully they’re benefitting from the newfound traffic that all this gentrification is bringing to the area.

For once, does Billy Corgan not suck?

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

When I went out to the mailbox with one of my kids, I figured it would be more of the same junk mail.  Bullshit about mortgage insurance, solicitations for donations, a random piece of mail offering me a ridiculous amount of money for my home regardless of the fact that I would never be able to parlay that into getting something else remotely close to where I’m living now, etc.

But today, there was an unexpected tube in the box.  I figured it was something mythical wife had ordered because she’s always ordering shit for the kids, but it turns out that it was addressed to me.  A return address from Florida from someone I didn’t know, because it was only signed by initials.  I thought it might’ve been a friend of mine from Virginia whom had similar initials, and I wondered, did they move to Florida?  What did I do to deserve such a considerate friend who sends me random mail even though we hardly speak?

Turns out that it wasn’t this specific friend I had in mind.  Instead, upon opening the tube, was a small 10 x 16 poster from the NWA show that I had missed out on due to the rise of omicron.  And it appeared to be autographed by, presumably all of the performers from the show.

Back in December, I had tickets to the NWA pay-per-view, Hard Times 2.  I had long wanted to go to another live wrestling event, and the card actually looked like it was going to be pretty good.  In fact, I was stoked because I learned that the NWA taped their shows from Atlanta, and I had made a point to try and go to a show, but then coronavirus happened, and those hopes were dashed.  But back to December, the doors were open once again to live NWA wrestling, and I had purchased tickets to Hard Times 2, anticipating a fun night of decent live wrestling. 

The night before the event, I got an email that stated that my tickets were cancelled and I was being issued a full refund.  I thought WTF, and DM’d and emailed the NWA’s twitter account and public email address, but not long afterward, a mass email was sent out.  It turns out that due to the rise of omicron, Hard Times 2 was putting a cap on the attendance, and me being past the cutoff point of tickets that were going to be honored, was instead getting a refund again.

I was quite disappointed.  I understood the circumstances, and frankly respected the venue for making the call, but I was sad that I was going to miss out on a live show, because I was really looking forward to it.

In the email, was also a message that stated responding with mailing addresses, so that the show could send all of us a small gift of appreciation and apology.  I didn’t think much of it, so I sent them my info and didn’t really anything of it.

It should also be mentioned that the NWA is owned now by Billy Corgan, the same Billy Corgan who was the front man for the Smashing Pumpkins.  Turns out he’s a big wrestling mark, and leapt on the opportunity to purchase the NWA when had deteriorated to basically the fifth most prominent organization in the industry.

Getting this signed poster is actually really cool as shit, and definitely softens the blow of not getting to go to the show.  There are lots of guys in the NWA that I do like, but if I had to pick the most notable talent that might have signed it, it would have to be Paola Blaze, whom I’m most familiar with as being THE Paola from 90 Day Fiancé, who somewhere on the road, parlayed her TLC fame into a professional wrestling career and now moonlights for the NWA.

Somewhere on this poster is Paola’s autograph.  And as a fan of professional wrestling and 90 Day Fiancé, that’s the crown jewel of this entire poster.  And I kind of have to credit Billy Corgan for keeping the lights on in the NWA to allow for this to happen, so is this where I actually have to admit that he doesn’t suck, for once?

Nah.  No way this was his idea.  The guy who runs the NWA’s gmail account (lol) seems to be the guy that’s shadow puppeting the promotion, probably.  That guy most definitely doesn’t suck.  But Billy Corgan still does.  Let’s not kid ourselves.

No laughing matter

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

TL;DR: MARTA CEO Jeffrey Parker dies by suicide after stepping in front of a MARTA train at the East Lake transit station

Honestly, I don’t even know what to write in regards to this.  But I’ve said so many things about MARTA over the years that I just feel like I can’t let this go by without some effort to write something about it.  It’s definitely not something that I can inject personal opinions into or try to spin this in a manner that makes MARTA look stupid or be something to laugh at. 

Suicide isn’t something to laugh at, because although it may end the suffering from those who feel they are, they’re opening up a world of it for those who have to pick up the pieces from their abrupt departure.  And as I’d be willing to wager, many of us who have no idea who Jeffrey Parker is aside from being the MARTA guy, this news probably caught a lot of people completely out of the blue.

Make no mistake, running MARTA definitely has to be one of the most thankless and seemingly fruitless jobs in the city.  It’s a joke to many, endlessly handcuffed by bureaucracy and red tape, and intertwined with all sorts of racism, which leads to this hopeless package of a private company where people take the jobs primarily because they’re jobs, and not because anyone believes in the good and betterment of the agency and expects there to be any substantial growth; the entire Metro Atlanta area has seen to it already to ensure that such doesn’t happen.

But Jeffrey Parker hasn’t really done a poor job of running MARTA; granted, in one of those ironic twists, the pandemic and peoples’ general inclination to avoid crowds and crowd-inducing things like public transit has probably helped a little bit to reduce negative numbers, but Parker’s name hasn’t popped up routinely with some embarrassing MARTA or Atlanta-ey meme associated with.  No news is good news when it comes to associating with MARTA, I’d theorize.

All the same, outside of those who actually knew the guy, nobody has any idea to the demons running around in his closet.  To the point where they actually succeeded at getting the body to believe that it was a good idea to throw himself in front of one of the train that he and his occupation oversaw.  It’s definitely something a little bit ironic, and a lot bit fucked up, and leads to little else than all bit sad.  No news is good news, but this news is fucking horrible.

In the past, I remarked that Jeffrey Parker had a lofty task to live up to the bar that predecessor Keith Parker had laid down for him.  But MARTA was running fairly comfortable since the transition, so all too soon, it will be time for yet another successor to step into shoes with dismal expectations, and hope to keep the ship steady and afloat, but for completely different reasons.

Looks cool, but will they perform?

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

It’s been a while since I really wrote anything about anything other than me being depressed, fatherhood, jobs, sports or wrestling, and if there’s ever a topic that gets me all amped up to write, MARTA would definitely be up there.

When I saw this article about how MARTA unveiled new trains, my knee-jerk reaction was to get my clowning shoes on, because just from the text description alone, I figured that there had to be ample opportunities to get back up on the horse and do some clowning.

Honestly though?  After actually taking the time to read the article and see the proposed designs and functionality of the new trains, I don’t really have that much room for clowning.  Although the face of the trains look like a cross between Daft Punk and like a Cerberus shock trooper from Mass Effect, they still look pretty cool, and I think the dynamic light function to indicate the route they’re on is a cool idea.

The interior of the trains have finally come into the modern era, with their being truly connected trains, and no longer there being physical doors leading to exterior access as beggars traversed from car to car.  There is still a lot of room for error when it comes to if people have specific needs for which car they need to get into because of strollers, bikes, or wheelchairs that will have to have some training applied, but at least it’s a start that the cars are actually going to have some variety and not feel like they’re the leftover train cars from the 1980’s DC Metro.

So as ready as I was to get ready to rip this concept apart, I actually don’t have much fuel to burn.  MARTA’s trains have desperately needed updating for nearly two decades, and it appears that it’s finally happening.  Sure, their stations need a lot of attention too, and the general perception of the service and brand seem irreparable, but finally upgrading the trains is a step in the right direction.

However in spite of the upgrades to the hardware, the real question is going to be if MARTA’s actual performance improves, with new trains?  The trains might be shiny and new, but the people running them, and the people riding them, and the stations they’re stopping in and out of aren’t going to be changing that much, and those are the variables that are going to come into play as far as trains remaining on time, hopefully dependable, and not too much the breeding ground for World Star videos.

If so, great.  If not, then still great for the brog, because it’ll be good fodder seeing photos and videos of these brand new fancy trains in the news, where petty crimes, stupidity and some very Atlanta-centric behavior gets the spotlight all the same.

Finally, let’s talk about the World Series Champion Atlanta Braves

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Firstly, baby luck is real, boys.  If you want to see your team win a championship, go have a kid.  I’ve seen it work for the Cubs.  I’ve seen it work with the Nationals.  Both those teams were laughing stocks not very long ago, and good friends of mine with their then-new children, got to witness the pinnacle of baseball fandom. 

Despite the fact that the Braves lost megastar Ronald Acuña, Jr. to a blown ACL, Mike Soroka blowing out his arm, and Marcell Ozuna getting suspended indefinitely for a domestic abuse incident and were sitting as low as fourth place in the division at one point, #2 was born, the Braves stopped sucking just enough to win a horrid division, and then got hot at the very right moment, and rode the momentum all the way to the top.

And now baby luck has worked for me, finally getting to witness a reality where the Atlanta Braves are World Series champions.  How can anyone not love baseball when an 88-win team that had no business making the playoffs ends up winning the whole thing?

Honestly, I never thought I’d see this in my life.  Between the Braves, Virginia Tech football, Korean national teams in, anything other than video games, I don’t have a lot of world championship potential, so y’all will have to excuse me if I’m still in a little bit of disbelief at the fact that the Braves are actually champions.

I wasn’t a Braves fan in 1995, when they won the World Series previously.  Growing up where I did, the team to root for was Cal Ripken, Jr. and the Baltimore Orioles, and the O’s got bounced by the same Cleveland Indians who went on to lose to the Braves in that World Series, but I make no claim to that championship.  So 2021’s World Series, really is for me, as it is for all Braves fans who have waited over 20 years for another championship.

Continue reading “Finally, let’s talk about the World Series Champion Atlanta Braves” →

No, it wasn’t

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

By the graciousness of my nanny, whom I excused from being on time to check at a QT for me, was she able to procure a reprint of the November 3rd commemorative Braves World Series victory edition.  This, was the highlight of my day.

So, I’m happy that I got the one thing that I had really wanted to commemorate the joyous occasion of the Braves reaching the top of the mountain and getting to be World Series champions, a sight and notion that is still hard to digest two days later, but I’m still peeved at just how hard it was to get a small piece of history to remember it by.

I’m pretty sure there’s something in the Constitution that says something along the lines of that news shouldn’t not be available to those who seek it, and it’s a stretch, but the AJC, whether it was deliberate or stupidity, suppressing production of the one and only obviously high-demand edition of their shitty paper, I would interpret as being fucking unconstitutional. 

As relieved as I am to have my own edition, predictably, the well-publicized high demand for these editions has created the dreaded and insufferable secondary market for them, and I’ve seen them on Facebook Marketplace going for at least $10 a pop, and mythical wife, after hearing me bitch and moan about it the night prior, spied some on eBay, going for around $27 a pop.

I’m not going to be a hypocrite about it, because I’ve definitely purchased extras of things before, with the intent of trying to flip them.  But whenever I’ve done that, that makes me an asshole, and what people are doing with these fucking AJCs, are making them assholes too.  I’m just glad that I didn’t have to pay a second-hand price for this, although I would have done so in order to get one.

The irony is that, it’s not even that good of a commemorative edition.  The AJC’s aesthetics and design has always been sixth-rate as far as major market newspapers go, and this commemorative edition doesn’t do the Braves justice.

The newspaper industry took a lot of flack over the last few decades over many publications taking cost-cutting measures and eliminating photographers, and instead tasking reporters to take pictures on iPhones.  I don’t know whether or not the AJC was one of those publications, but based on the shitty photo quality of my collector’s edition, I’m inclined to believe they are.

The photos are out of focus and have been enlarged way past the original resolution, and whatever staffers they have pretending to be graphic artists apply a bunch of high-pass filters to try and sharpen them, but instead make them look all posterized and pixelated.  I’d almost be embarrassed to actually display it after I frame it, but it will eventually become artwork for lack of a better term.

Anyway, I’m just glad I got my copy regardless of all the bullshit and hoops that had to be done in order for it to happen.  I just wish what seemed like a simple thing didn’t have to become such a joy-suppressing ordeal.

Fuck the AJC.

Fuck you, AJC

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

The only thing I wanted to commemorate the Braves’ World Series victory was a copy of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution with some sort of front page cover of the Braves’ victory.  Unsurprising, so does just about every single fucking Braves fan in the Metro Atlanta area, or just people who want a slice of history.

But I guess it’s safe to say that misery loves company and that I am most definitely kept company, given the fact that the AJC printed a paltry 30,000 copies of a commemorative November 3rd edition.  Also unsurprising is that there are thousands of disappointed and upset fans who were unable to get one because there were only 30,000 copies of a fucking newspaper to a metropolitan area that has a population of nearly six million fucking people to which obviously not all of them are going to be Braves fans, but a whole fucking lot more than 30,000 are sure to be.

30,000 copies.  Only distributed at Krogers, Publixes, RaceTracs and QTs.  That probably means each location got like, 20 copies, to which they were obviously all sold out instantaneously by those who were lucky enough to be at the right fucking places at the right fucking time.  And me being handcuffed to a baby for 17 hours of every single day, I can’t even have the chance to even try to get one of these fucking surprisingly Jesus-rare newspaper editions.

Fuck you, AJC.  You’re not Nintendo withholding Switches.  You’re not Sony, artificially suppressing Piss5s.  You’re a fucking regional rag that somehow fucked up getting Willy Wonka’s golden ticket, by pulling this kind of bullshit stunt.  You could have printed 200,000 copies of this fucking paper, and they’d have almost all sold for $3 a pop, netting an absurd amount of revenue for a piece of shit publication that nobody would give two shits about on any other given day, but it just so happened to luck into the regional baseball lottery with the Braves winning a World Series.

Sure, they’re going to reprint a generous 70,000 more copies of it, but the cat is out of the bag now, and people now know the hot ticket these things are, and how many people want them.  And when that happens, if it already hasn’t, we’re going to have motherfuckers buying up multiples to try and flip them for profit, because the world is fucked up, everyone sucks, and I fucking hate everything right now.

I only had one goal, and it was a colossal failure and not for lack of trying.  In spite of my limited opportunities to leave the house, I still tried, failed, because the Publixes and Krogers I tried probably had like five copies.  Sure, there might be maybe 10 copies at each tomorrow, but I’m in the same boat of not going to have any chance to go check, and I probably won’t get them, and I’ll have to settle for the bullshit Friday edition or the Sunday reprint, that I’ll still get with hate and grudge in my soul.

The whole point of this was to get the paper on the fucking day after the World Series ended, and thanks to the AJC being a bunch of fucking fuck faces, dreams of traditionalists and Braves fans like me are all met with the same bullshit fate.

Fuck you, AJC.  I hate you more than COVID-19 right now, and I kind of hope that the Braves never win the World Series again, so that you’ll never have another opportunity to fuck up the golden ticket again.  Better yet, I retract my hopes that the Braves never win again, I hope they do win again, but when they do, the AJC is out of business and replaced by some publication that doesn’t fucking amount to toilet paper for the homeless.