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About forty-five minutes north west of New York City, situated within the small yet densely populated village of Port Chester, New York, although more closely representing a Connecticut town due to its bordering proximity to the Constitution State, the Embassy Theatre currently rots. Its construction can be traced back all the way to 1926, the theaters opening year. With a seating capacity of just one more body over 1,590 the interior of the auditorium was certainly no small space. gas law questions and answers The large centerpiece chandelier within the theater still remains adorned with its numerous lightbulbs and electric fixtures, however it now appears to be hung from a mess of cobwebs which strangle and completely obscure the massive support chain connected the the high valued ceiling above. The Embassy Theatre was originally constructed for the showing of vaudeville, but with the passing of decades and the changing of the times the space evolved to become that of a movie theater and finally a dance club in 1986. That same year the theater was shuttered for good and has remained vacant ever since. Time has taken its toll on the old theater for the decorative plaster has begun to crack and wither away as the red stage drapes absorb the surrounding decay. The 1,591 seats within the theater have long been removed creating a dark cavernous space, alive with the sounds of echoes of anyone who dares enter the forbidden troupe.

Situated upon a 594 acre plot of rural land within Marlboro Township, New Jersey, Marlboro Psychiatric Hospital opened its doors for "care" in 1931 as a classic Tudor designed, cottage plan institution. However, I use the word "care" loosely for within years of the hospital opening it quickly became overcrowded with patients and with such overpopulation the condition of the hospital as well as the quality of help the patients received quickly deteriorated. Marlboro Psychiatric Hospital is perhaps best remembered for the 1993 investigation initiated by then State Senator Richard J. Codey concerning allegations of rampant greed, corruption, squandering of taxpayer money, and patient abuse crippling the institution. In classic New Jersey fashion all of these allegations were proven to be true and Marlboro was ultimately shuttered in 1998 at which point it remained abandoned for nearly twenty years to follow with demolition of the ruinous buildings commencing in 2015. People often tend to focus on the stories of various suicides and murders that occurred during Marlboro’s tenure as an operating hospital. electricity icon While most of these descriptions hold truth and can be interesting, I think the real damming shame of Marlboro was the flagrant corruption that seemed to be embraced by all of the institution’s employees. Corruption and greed seemed to be the underling theme at Marlboro, with everyone from janitors to highly paid doctors partaking in the extortion. Marlboro was a place where not only patients but money went to be wasted. Tax money being poured into the hospital was rarely used as intended and the patients suffered while others made financial gains from it. This type of self righteous, egotistical, greedy behavior is all to stereotypical of New Jersey State Government to this date. While the Marlboro wave of corruption was busted early on, the greed has not disappeared from government by any means, instead it has just moved on to infiltrate new opportunities. gas leak in car Pay on taxpayers, pay on.

As the Passaic River flows around its last oxbow bend before converging with the Hackensack River and forming the mighty Newark Bay, a ravaged industrial elbow of land bordered by The Pulaski Skyway and The New Jersey Turnpike juts out like a throbbing thumb, shoved too far up ones ass. A lifeless peninsula of barren cement referred to by some as Point-No-Point. This toxic little chersonese, named after the nearby railroad swing bridge connecting Newark with Kearny NJ, remains as wasteland populated by electric substations and massive oil and gas tanks. gas exchange in the lungs However, a curious abandoned substation, a remnant from the once larger Essex Generating Station which was demolished many decades ago also remains rotting away situated along the northern tip of the impoverished land. Because The Passaic River is very much tidal at this point access to the substation comes and goes with the ebb and flow of the tides. A thicket of reeds and a battered barb wire fence separates the the old power plant from most humans. However if one times the tides right and wishes to slump through the oily muck, a playground awaits.

Rotting along a beat up wooden pier barely balancing upon the industrialized river bank of the Arthur Kill in Port Reading, New Jersey a decrepit monolithic structure battered for decades by salty sea swells and powerful gusty winds remains as a a hunk twisted steel and corroded metal rising tall against the unassuming Staten Island, New York skyline in the foreground. A thicket of reeds and nautical debris washed ashore from wicked storms past form a sort of natural fence barrier between the polluted river water and the clobbered McMyler Coal Dumper, making access difficult. astrid y gaston lima menu prices Constructed in 1917, Big Mac, as the coal dumper became nicknamed by its crew of twelve, could unload a railcar full of coal in two and half minutes, sending the product onto barges to be shipped to coal burning power plants all across the north east; a massive industrial feat for its time. However as alternative power generating fuel sources became more popular the need for raw coal was diminished, thus Big Mac became more of a liken to Big Useless Mac and was ultimately shuttered in 1983 for good. The steel ruins of the coal dumper have been rotting and corroding away into the Arthur Kill River ever since. Even despite the historical significance of Big Mac’s industrial unloading feats, little effort has been made to recognize the structure or brand it as a historical landmark. As a result, Big Mac will undoubtedly continue to rot away until the forces of nature collapse the remainder of the structure and the ever flowing yet fierce Arthur Kill River swallows Big Mac for good.

Along the banks of the Delaware River in Fishtown Philadelphia, a cement monolith sits. Its austere concrete walls surrounded by tall razor wire topped chainlink fencing creates an illusion of a caged monster. Eight forbidding rusted smoke stacks reaching toward the sky can easily be imagined into a serpentine creature of biblical proportions. Inside the beast’s cold blooded body an empty industrial soul remains. gas and electric credit union Its heart has long been captured for just a vacant hall of a ribcage remains, yet within the echoey darkness its secret powers still lurk. This desolate demon I speak of is better known as the Delaware River Generating Station. A massive coal burning power plant seemingly carved from a block of solid cement way back in 1917. This Beaux-Arts beauty takes up an astonishing 223,000 square feet, yet its footprint seems to be hardly noticed within the bustling Philadelphia metropolis. Shuttered in 2004 this behemoth of a power plant is perhaps best recognized as the first cement reinforced power station to ever have been built. Today however, its only claim to glory is perhaps its designation on the Philadelphia Register of Historic Places. But despite such an honor the building sits empty, attracting only those brave enough to tame monsters before redevelopment slaughters them.