Progress?

The upper West Side, where I hang my hat, is full of neighborhoods with beautiful old brownstones. Many of them have fallen into disrepair, but as the neighborhood gentrifies (and no, I'll not engage in debate with you about this topic, thanks) they are being restored and often carved up into apartments where each family occupies a floor.

While walking home from Heritage, I spotted this monstrosity:

Frankly, I think the owner of this building, both the architect and contractor who managed the remodeling job, and the city official who decided that everything was up to code should be shipped off to a desert island or summarily shot at dawn, whichever appeals more to the jury. The picture doesn't show it, but on both sides of this abomination and all the way down the street to the corner in either direction are lovely, graceful, historic brownstones which have been lovingly and authentically rebuilt. And then there's this....this...thing. I'm not necessarily against modern architecture, and I've always thought that neighborhoods that controlled the aesthetic qualities of the houses built in them were kind of ridiculous. But all of that seems to fall away when I look at this picture and remember how this insult to domestic domiciles gaped from the middle of the otherwise charming street.

Liberal as I may be in many senses, some things should be sacred.