Donovan Mitchell #45 of the Cleveland Cavaliers looks on during the game against the New York Knicks during Game One of the NBA Eastern Conference Finals on May 19, 2026 at Madison Square Garden in New York City, New York. NBAE via Getty Images See more of our coverage in your search results.
Add The New York Post on Google Knicks have city on lox Basketball. It’s playoffs. NY Knicks vs. Cleveland Cavaliers. So exciting my manicurist could nearly stop tweezing. And pay attention. A shop around 47th and Fifth — not too far from Grand Central — called Liberty Bagels usually, was doing big business yesterday morning as — ready? — Championship Bagels. And those round doughy rocks were colored blue and orange.
Shove Zero Crapdammy. Are we great or what?! Knicks play again Thursday.
OK. Now to important things. I personally prefer a telephone that has a rotary dial but — besides that — I’m not really a bad person.
It’s just that I have a need to discuss holiday time. Like the exquisite greatness of coming warm weather picnics: Sun, surf. Ham on sand. Great.
BS time. Beach, burgers, beans, baloney, barbecue. With beer, add BS.
It’s ants and aunts. The sun’s hot. The coffee not. If the wife invites, it’s the whole family. If the husband invites, it’s clients. If nobody invites, it’s ticks. And relatives? Tougher to stop than an oil tanker in the Hormuz.
And the kids ? Always running. Big ones want franks. Little ones have other parts running.
Your phone doesn’t work. Your bladder does. You’re in Reno. Nearest john is in Idaho.
Sand? Everywhere. Mostly in the warm potato salad.
Your rich friends have gone to Paris so there’s time to resent them. Actually, which would you prefer? Downtown Malta or Ocean Parkway? Why schlep to the moon when you can zoom to the Rockaways?
Activities are swimming, sunning, shouting at the husband. Why? Why not.
Excitement? Collecting seashells, which you throw out when you get home.
Conversation? The war, prices, politicians, your stupidity thinking a day’s outing would be fun.
I’m not saying that what the hosts serve is old — just saying that their 3-minute eggs are now rock formations. The hamburger meat? Bought at Corinth. Menu? Leftovers from “The Last Supper.”
One aunt twice removed brought her portable radio. Great. Loved listening to Bess Truman’s speeches. Bess’ leftover behind extended down to the third century. Digging behind her we could probably have found Amelia Earhart.
Great day. Great night. Great experience. The moon stayed as high as my second cousin.
WHAT everyone should do this holiday is run to the fun delicious laugh out loud musical “Schmigadoon!” at the huge spotlessly clean well-kept Jimmy Nederlander Theatre on West 41st. It has multiple johns. And even more Tony awards than johns. Nominated for 12 Tonys. Twelve!
It has sex, romance, fun, laughs, great scenery, brilliant direction, smartass tricks, clever showbiz stage changes — and it’s clean. Even for kids to see.
The packed audience applauded mid-show repeatedly.
Someone near me came extra early and was holding the NY Times. OK, fine, but once you get past Maureen Dowd, what else you got? Nothing.
Have a happy healthy holiday. Talk with you again Tuesday.
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.
