Good thing they have museums and stuff.
As a public service to fans of New York pro sports (Rangers, Islanders, you’re excused), MoMA has extended through Feb. 10 its “Henri Matisse: The Cut-Outs”, which examines the period in the 1940s when he turned almost exclusively to cut paper as an artistic medium.
At the Met, you have until March 15 to see “Madame Cezanne,” a tribute to Hortense Fiquet, Paul Cezanne’s wife and most frequently painted model.
The American Museum of Natural History has “Nature’s Fury, the Science of Natural History Disasters” highlighting how earthquakes, volcanoes and tornadoes “remind us that we are small and vulnerable.”
Closer to home, we have, “The Passenger Pigeon: From Billions to Zero” at the State Museum (through March 30), and “Undercover: Revealing Design in Quilts, Coverlets, and Bed Hangings” at the Albany Institute of History & Art, through March 8.
If you’re a New York sports fan, you’re probably cowering under a Snuggie, perhaps contemplating disaster and extinction, anyway. Get out of the house.
When’s the last time it was this dreary to be a New York-philic fan?
OK, it’s not all gloom and doom, at least if you’re a hockey person.
The Rangers won eight straight in December and were 20-11 heading into a game at the Garden against lowly Buffalo Saturday night, still carrying some momentum from last year’s terrific postseason run.
And the Islanders have been a revelation, infused with some fresh faces to become one of the pleasant surprises of the NHL season, at 26-11. We’ll see if it’s merely fool’s gold.
The Devils have the mumps.
And a triangle coaching staff that doesn’t include the fired Peter deBoer.
It could be worse. They could have a triangle offense.
The 5-30 Knicks are so exquisitely atrocious that it’s not even like watching a train wreck anymore.
It’s like looking down into the canyon at the smoldering wreckage while crows peck about, finding nothing worthy of their attention and flying off, disgusted.
At least a dumpster fire is warm.
It’s even tough to perk up for Clyde-isms during broadcasts. Phrasin’ and malaisin’.
The NBA is always more fun when the Knicks are relevant, which makes their catastrophe of a season all the more troubling.
It’s one thing to tank, or simply have a lousy year in what often is just the downswing of a cycle of inconsistency, but does anyone believe that this mess will be cleaned up by next season?
Phil Jackson was supposed to sweep in and “change the culture,” pushing his beloved triangle offense on a collection of disjointed parts.
A month ago, he addressed the direction of the Knicks and said, “There’s some resistance to discipline, order and culture change, and things like that. I’m calling it a crucible, what we’re going through here.”
One element that appears to be melting down — or at least shutting down — is Carmelo Anthony, who has been hampered by a sore left knee and is in limbo. If he plays, it won’t get worse, but it won’t get better.
But having just signed a five-year, $124 million contract, how bad does it look if he bails on this ship, even if it be sinking? The sky’s the limit (at least Micheal Ray Richardson’s 1981-82 Knicks team won 33 games).
The Brooklyn Nets, meanwhile, have a chance to wrestle some of the NBA attention away from their crosstown not-really-rivals, but they’re a blah 16-16.
As the NFL playoffs start, Tom Coughlin hung on to his job by his fingernails, and Giants fans can soothe themselves with the prospect of Victor Cruz rejoining Odell Beckham Jr. in the wide receiver corps. I guess.
The Jets? “We might get Doug Marrone!”
The Mets seem to have some room for optimism, while the Yankees face the absolutely delicious prospect of Alex Rodriguez’s comeback from a drug ban. The gift that keeps on giving for tabloid headline writers.
Buck up, New York fans.
The Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum will not be sinking and is open year-round.
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