Harold Gruber Becomes Poster Boy For Uptight Slopers

Caption: This is the last face fun sees right before it gets Ned Starked on the steps of the Food Co-op.

It should come as no surprise that Park Slopers are trying to shut down yet another bar. That’s just what we do out here. It’s become an official P Slope pastime, like lawn bowling in Prospect Park or skateboarding down 7^th avenue on mushrooms (other people do that too, right?).

The bad news is that this is a characteristic of our neighborhood that we have to live with. The good news is now we have a face we can hate for it.

Meet Harold Gruber.

“It’s disruptive; it turns the street into liquor lane,” he recently complained to The Brooklyn Paper. “It’s going to make it impossible to sleep."

The proposed target of Mr. Gruber’s campaign against fun? Kemistry Lounge, a restaurant/bar that's hoping to open on Flatbush Avenue, yet had the poor foresight to show scantily dressed women on its Facebook page (which has now been taken down). You should have known better, Kemistry Lounge! Now the peace and quiet cognoscenti now want to stop the party before it even gets started. 

Via the BK Paper: "Gruber and other neighbors are fighting the venue’s liquor license bid, saying the “Vegas-style” club — which is slated to accommodate 250 revelers in a grocery store-sized space until 3 am on Saturdays, 2 am on Fridays, 1 am on Thursdays, and 11 pm on other nights — will draw a rowdy not-from-the-neighborhood crowd."

A spokesman for Kemistry claims that it's not going to be some rowdy nightclub -- just your regular, run-of-the-mill restaurant and bar. Will Gruber and his fellow haters succeed in keeping the joint from opening? Probably. But please, let’s not start any petitions.

As stated, Kemistry is not the first booze slinging station to receive less than a warm embrace from the neighborhood (see Prime 6, Freddy’s, Great Lakes and probably others I don’t know off the top of my head).  If your establishment doesn’t sell antique end tables from Zimbabwe or aren't geared towards foamy-mouthed rugrats it’s just not gonna get any love on the Slope. To quote the late great Tupac, that’s just the way it is.

But luckily this time the anti-fun committee has chosen a spokesman to whom I can direct all the vitriol that would normally just pool up in my spleen, and boy oh boy does he look the part.

Harold Gruber: The judgmental parent I moved across the country to escape! He is a dorkier version of Sandy Cohen from the OC, replete with a you-should-be-ashamed-of-yourself scowl and I-am-not-listening-to-any-of-this-hogwash folded arms. His frumpy shirt and hair style make it clear that while he may have heard of fun, he has certainly never indulged in it, let alone allowed it to date his daughter. Even his tie, the only colorful thing about this dour fucker seems to be trying to run away. “I am not with this guy! No pictures! No pictures!” All in all, the perfect buzz kill.

I don’t know if Mr. Gruber is officially the spokesperson or if he is just the singular neighbor featured in this story, but he is definitely the guy who posed for the picture. And for that he must be crucified.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that Mr. Gruber is a bad person. I am saying he is the worst person. The worst person in the whole entire world.

We hate you Harold Gruber. Suck it.