Wurk Hawd. Play Hawd.

"The sleep of a laborer is sweet, whether he eats little or much, but the abundance of a rich man permits him no sleep. Ecclesiastes 5:12

"Coney Island is the Tom-Tom of America. Every nation has, and needs-and loves-its Tom-Tom. It has needs of orgiastic escape from respectability-that is, from the world of What-we-have-to-do into the world of What-we-would-like-to, from the world of duty that endureth forever into a world of joy that is permitted for a moment."
- Richard Le Gallienne, 1905

The wealthy and the wanting, old and young alike, early immigrant's children's children and fresh off the boat camera toting tourists all rested on their laurels with their feet in the sand soaking up the last of the summer sun at the edge of Brooklyn this afternoon.

A generous slice of Americana pie strolled the boardwalk with their lovers and families covered in coconut oil, relishing fried clams, flying kites on the Autumn wind, casting their fishing lines and crab nets, rolling dice and placing bets, and doing their best Karaoke homage to Sinatra in an off key. The line for The Cyclone wrapped around the corner, a freaky sideshow in full swing, soft serve cones on every block, and a true melting pot of shapes, sizes, cultures, customs, and characters all singing one sweet vernacular....a unified day off. Whoo. Whoo.

Isn't this country fascinating?