My new favorite local establishment: Brooklyn Word Church, starring Pastor Willowdene Williams. Obviously I’ve never attended one of Pastor Willowdene Williams’ (no-doubt) raucous and righteous services, but Pastor Willowdene Williams has endeared herself to me by shouting her name — which I must stress is Willowdene Williams — proudly on the nicely painted sign that hangs above the door of the “church.” (The quotation marks are used because the church isn’t a stand-alone structure. Basically it’s a strip-mall house of worship, although this is not technically correct, because strip malls don’t have apartment houses above them. And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a strip mall in Brooklyn. But I digress.) If I were to step inside, I like to think that Willowdene would treat me to a life-affirming, interdenominational sing-along, easy on the hallelujahs and heavy on the Blues Brothers–style hoedowns. You know, the kind that puts the “word!” in Brooklyn Word Church. But probably, she’s just another of those evangelist types seen on public-access television who are given to embarrassing fits of bellowing and who occasionally introduce overly pious “special guests,” like a soul quartet with a singer in Jheri curls who tenderly performs the song “The Greatest Love of All,” and who says afterwards, “Give it up for my band: Sexual Chocolate.”


Can one really be angry when one is partaking of an apple bran muffin from Gorilla Coffee? Yes. Today I’m mad that beehive hairdos ever existed.