Our Newest Columnist: Is That The Bruce Springsteen Of Queens?

Long sideburns. A rustic-sounding harmonica. Cut-off T-shirts. Torn jeans. Ballads of blue collar America. The River, Born to Run, Atlantic City.

Does anyone say it better than The Boss?

I don’t think so. And so, in the spirit of The Boss, I dedicate this blog. I will put every ounce of my own blood, sweat and tears into making this the best food / drink / dance / entertainment / social gathering / art Queens showcase you’ve ever seen.

I’ve seen the good and the bad sides of, as we like to call it, Q-Town, for going on four years. I live in the trenches of Sunnyside Gardens (where the beat hits the street), and I’ll tell you this: there are no handouts and no meal tickets. But there is a place for men like me and Bruce — men of honor, strength and integrity.

You’re probably wondering at this point, Who the %&* is this guy?

Let me tell you. I am the Bruce Springsteen of Queens.

1. I walk with a Springsteenian sense of purpose. (If you’re not sure what that means, watch a bull charge a matador.)

2. I have never been afraid of a good fist pump.

3. I have holes in almost all of my jeans - from hard work, dedication and the occasional drunken spill.

4. I love Coors Light. Fresh off the Rockies.

You probably have a few questions such as:

Do I physically resemble The Boss? No. I am 5′8″ 140 lb. Italian pipsqueak.

Do I play a musical instrument? No. But I actually own a nice ukulele, although I haven’t learned to play it… yet.

Do I own a motorcycle? No. I’m horrible with all forms of motor vehicles, machinery and power tools.

Does my fiancé support my Boss-like tendencies? No. Her initial reaction was, “Are you serious? You’re ridiculous.”

But do I have The Boss in my heart? You can’t see it right now, but I’m giving you a fist pump!

Does Queens need The Boss now more than ever? Double fist pump!

Will I do my best to do for Queens what The Boss has done for Jersey? Sustained double fist pump!!!

So all I ask is that you place your fears aside, put your little hand in mine, and venture into my Secret Garden. And after it’s all over, when the years have worn us down and our eyes don’t shine quite so brightly, you can answer for yourself:

Was he the Bruce Springsteen of Queens?

. . . Or was he just Dancin’ in the Dark?

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