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August 04, 2008

1647: "Raffa's Angels"

I really regret not having pulled out my phone to make a photo of this when I saw it, but I guess I was just so overwhelmed with joy that I wasn't thinking rationally. Let me explain...

I hate Tom Brady.

I mean...

Come on, now. Really. What happened here? He seems to have been deposited by helicopter onto the playing field of some sort of junior high school, which seems like a bit of a downgrade considering he plays in the NFL. Although, you know, maybe that's what happens when you get PWNED! Sucka! Does he normally travel in a suit, and/or with une grande bouteille de Smart Water? I look at Tom Brady, and I see how closely placed his beedy little eyes are, and I wonder -- isn't Tom Brady more "SMRT" than "SMART?" He's got the face of a Golden Retriever, minus the intelligence.

I don't know, folks. Something about him seems like he'd be as stimulating a conversationalist as a cinder block would, and everything about the guy makes me want to drop kick him into the East River. All of the product in that douche-bag hair of his would probably keep him afloat though, bobbing along the top with all the discarded Dunkin Donuts cups and medical waste that stands between us and Roosevelt Island. God, I hate this guy.

You know who doesn't? Raffa. I don't exactly know who Raffa is, but I know what he's about -- Tom Brady. Also, Derek Jeter.

I know this because we spotted a professionally framed shrine to both athletes (and a third guy I can't think of at the moment but I'll see if Pete does) sitting on the sidewalk last night. Strolling around the neighborhood, we saw this incredible testimony to one man's love of other men, and I'm now kicking myself for not having made a photo of it. He'd carefully selected artful black and white portrait photos of his favorite gentlemen athletes and had them matted and framed under glass, with a small (engraved? I can't remember) tag which read "Raffa's Angels." Had I not known that Jeter and Brady were among the living, I'd have easily mistaken this for a shrine to deceased dudes -- it was that poignant. The name, to me, sounded male and something about the choice of frame struck me as distinctly masculine. What inspired this Raffa? A love of sports or a love of men? Or, a love of both? Aren't they sometimes the same thing, anyway?

I find myself wondering how this photographic shrine ended up on the street. Did he fall out of love with these gents? Who, if anyone, replaced them in the former owner's heart? And how did the conversation with the framer go down?

Posted by ashley at August 4, 2008 08:23 PM

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