When I came back to visit the East End Temple after an absence of six months or so I saw what I had predicted (prophesied)—the building was gone, the house next door was torn down and the cranes and hard hats were busy at work—a 16-story apartment building—said my favorite waitress at the Cosmos, but it was too obvious, even too banal for too much attention, let alone sadness. I am no prophet, but I suppose the wise and bearded ones also dealt in such banality. I was chagrined, bored, angry and I had it with both the lords and their critics. The building will be ugly, the ceiling will be low, the walls will be thin and it will start wearing out even as they nail on the sheetrock and make holes for their wires. Welcome, shitheads! Be sure to try the Greek specials across the street before they start serving Belize coffee at three dollars a swig—and good swimming in the East River.