There’s a thread going viral on East Brunswick Helping Each Other (EBHO) — and not because it’s funny, inspiring, or heartwarming. It’s viral because it’s raw, unfiltered frustration from residents who feel like no one in power is listening.

The topic? Traffic. But it’s not just traffic — it’s what that traffic represents.

Getting off the Turnpike onto Route 18 has become an unpredictable mess. Residents are sitting in gridlock at all hours of the day. They’re not just annoyed. They’re defeated.

“This traffic getting off the turnpike onto 18 due to construction is absolutely ridiculous,” wrote De A., kicking off a flood of replies.

The reactions came fast:

“Let’s build MORE housing!” snapped H.K., sarcastically.
“Oh don’t worry, they are and will,” added S.D.
“Thank Mayor Cohen,” fired back E.C.C., clearly not mincing words.

The general tone? People feel trapped in a town that’s growing faster than its infrastructure can handle. Projects keep getting greenlit, construction never ends, and traffic gets worse by the week.

“Every road in East Brunswick is HORRIBLE. Let’s build some more apts,” said M.T.
“The sad thing is it will do very little to help traffic… more people adds to more congestion,” echoed M.D.

And the blame isn’t vague — it’s pointed.

The mayor’s name came up more than once, often as the target of deep disappointment. “Thank Mayor Cohen,” wasn’t meant as praise. And when one user joked, “Make East Brunswick New York City,” it didn’t feel like satire — it felt like resignation.

“The draw of living in the suburbs was that it was an escape… now we are just a sad extension of the city,” C.B. lamented.

These aren’t isolated complaints — this is a community raising its collective voice. People who’ve lived here for decades are questioning whether it’s worth staying.

“I lived in East Brunswick for over 70 years. I just moved last month. I do not miss that traffic one bit,” said J.Q.

And this might be the most telling quote of them all:

“It’s never gonna end,” wrote W.S.

That hopelessness? That’s what’s spreading.

This isn’t just a traffic issue. It’s a trust issue. Residents feel like they’re not being heard, like the decisions being made are out of step with what people actually want. It’s not about being anti-development. It’s about development without planning, without foresight, without accountability.

As the town barrels forward with new apartments, more commercial space, and even bigger plans for Route 18 — the people stuck in traffic are starting to wonder: Who is any of this really for?

Maybe it’s time East Brunswick leadership scrolled through EBHO and saw for themselves.

Because if they did, they’d see it’s not just congestion that’s building — it’s resentment.

Top 3 Better Uses for the $28,000 Backstop

If We’re Gonna Keep It, Let’s At Least Get Weird With It

So the town wants to spend $28,000 to remove a backstop—that big metal fence behind the baseball field. We can use “Bernie’s Landscaper”.

But what if, and hear us out… we don’t remove it?

Instead of burning through borrowed money to demolish something that’s done nothing wrong, we propose this:

Let’s keep the backstop—and make it the most iconic, under-budget feature East Brunswick has ever seen.

1. ? “The Backstop Garden of Reflection™”

Let’s turn this beast into a glorious vertical garden.

We wrap it in climbing roses, ivy, and maybe a few hanging baskets donated by the PTA. Science classes can study photosynthesis, art students can sketch it, and the custodians can passive-aggressively complain about bees. It’s hands-on education with thorns—what’s not to love?

Throw in a bench and a sign that says:

“Dedicated to the taxpayers who Googled what a backstop is.”

This becomes a peaceful place to think about how we almost spent $28K on removal. Bonus points if someone from the high school woodshop class builds a trellis that collapses if anyone says “fiscally responsible.”

2. ?️ The Temporary Office of VV & BG™

In a cost-cutting move, let’s just put a tarp over it and call it the new Administrative Executive Budget Coordination Pavilion.

Give VV and BG a couple folding chairs, clipboards, and maybe a space heater if they’re good. This keeps them far away from our students and maybe, just maybe, gives them time to reflect on why they tried to bury $28,000 in a bond for fence removal.

Think about it: no more heated offices, no rent, no distractions—just the humbling effect of wind, rust, and the distant sound of JV baseball practice.

Budget saved. Message sent.

3. ? “The Bernie Stash Compound™”

Instead of tearing it down, let’s enclose it with chain-link walls, a padlock, and zero supervision.

Boom. Now Bernie has a place to store all the confiscated microwaves, toasters, and Keurigs he’s quietly been disappearing from teacher lounges district-wide.

Teachers can make appointments to “visit” their former appliances like it’s a minimum-security prison for small electronics.

The best part? Every time a new teacher reports their coffee machine missing, we just add a shelf. Eventually, we open it to the public like a museum:

“Exhibit A: The Mr. Coffee that sparked a rebellion.”

Final Thought

You want to remove the backstop? Fine. But at least laugh with us on the way down. Or better yet—don’t remove it. Keep it. Transform it. Weaponize it for satire and passive resistance.

We’re East Brunswick. We pave fields for cricket. We can damn sure turn a fence into a cultural landmark.

Stay weird. Stay loud. And stay far away from VV’s tarp office.

—
Eyes On EB
“Saving East Brunswick one sarcastic blog post at a time.”

And Apparently It Costs $28,000 to Remove Them

In what’s possibly the most humbling moment since the “how do you pronounce Tices Lane” debate, a shocking discovery has rocked the community:

Most East Brunswick residents don’t know what a backstop is.

We’re talking about grown adults, many with kids in sports, scrolling through town forums, squinting at their screens and whispering, “Wait… what is a backstop?”

To be clear: it’s the big fence behind home plate at a baseball field. That’s it. It stops balls. Like… a literal backstop. The name kind of explains it.

And yet—here we are.

$28,000 to Remove a Fence Nobody Recognized

The town is borrowing $11.5 million, and one juicy line item that got everyone talking was this:
? $28,000 to remove a backstop.

And here’s how the community responded:

“I didn’t even know what a backstop was. I had to Google it.” – JM
“Can I offer to remove this backstop (which I had no idea what it was) for 10K?” – EI
“Wtf is a backstop?” – OD
“I just learned something new.” – BB
“I thought it was like a TopGolf thing.” – Someone who is now emotionally recovering

Honestly, we should’ve budgeted another $5,000 for group therapy.

Imagine the Confusion

If someone told you the town was spending $28K to remove a backstop and you thought they were referring to:

• A cyberbullying prevention program

• A mental health app

• Or a safety feature on your car…

You’re not alone.

We had people genuinely wondering if the backstop was a code name for a failing school principal or a piece of Cold War infrastructure buried under the turf field.

One person asked if it had something to do with golf. Another offered to rip it down with a $100 angle grinder and a 6-pack of Monster.

This Explains Everything

Now it makes sense why no one questioned the cost. You can’t object to removing something if you don’t know what it is. That’s Budgeting 101.

“Remove the flux capacitor? Sure, sounds important.”
“How much?”
“$28,000.”
“Yeah, okay.”

The town council could’ve called it a “strategic linear vertical safety enhancement barrier” and people would’ve clapped.

Good News: We’re All Smarter Now

So to those of you who admitted you didn’t know—respect. You’re honest, brave, and exactly the kind of people this town needs… to stop borrowing money for dumb stuff.

You may not have known what a backstop was, but now you do. And now you also know that East Brunswick is spending nearly thirty grand to remove one—while students lose arts, languages, and programs that actually matter.

Next Week’s Blog?

We’re considering a field trip. We’ll walk up to the backstop—before it’s dramatically removed by a professional backstop removal team—and give it a final salute. Maybe a candlelight vigil. Maybe just a group photo with our tax bills.

Either way, stay tuned.

And if you’re still unsure what a backstop is, don’t worry—we’ll be spending thousands more to make sure it’s never your problem again.

? Only in East Brunswick.

Welcome to East Brunswick, Where the Most Popular Attraction is… a Closed Skate Park

If you’ve been feeling like there’s not much for kids to do in East Brunswick, don’t worry — you’re not alone. Based on a recent eye-opening (and slightly comical) thread in the community Facebook group, it’s safe to say that boredom has hit historic highs. Forget malls, arcades, or even community centers. Around here, the top-rated extracurricular activity appears to be… mooning cars on the side of the road.

Classic EB.

According to local legend (and by that we mean Facebook), some kids were recently caught on camera dropping their pants in a full moon salute to innocent drivers. Don’t worry, they were allegedly filming it for TikTok, so it’s basically art now.

Naturally, the thread exploded. There were calls to police. A few boomers reminisced about how they used to sneak around the neighborhood quietly in the ’90s — you know, like classy delinquents. Others suggested hiking, playing capture the flag, or baking cookies as alternatives. (Because nothing cures teenage rebellion like cookies.)

But between all the hot takes, funny comments, and tired finger-pointing, one response stood out — and it deserves some real attention.

A Voice of Reason: R.B. Says What the Mayor Won’t

Amidst the chaos, one resident — let’s just call her R.B. — broke through with something that wasn’t just reasonable… it was spot-on.

She said the quiet part out loud: There is absolutely nothing for kids to do in this town.

And she didn’t stop there.

She reminded us that when the mayor came knocking on doors years ago, she asked him about creating a proper community center like they have in Woodbridge or Perth Amboy. His response? Not enough revenue. Not beneficial for the town. But hey, we’re getting an ice rink as part of the Hostess Factory redevelopment deal!

Because nothing says “accessible youth programming” like… limited public access to an ice rink on a corporate development.

R.B. laid it out clearly: our kids don’t need another ceremonial ribbon-cutting for pickleball courts or another overhyped “cultural event” at a half-empty building. They need a real place — a functional, inclusive space — with activities for kids and teens across all ages. They need somewhere to go that doesn’t involve filming content for TikTok in traffic.

And if the only response from leadership is “well, youth council exists,” then you’ve already missed the plot. You don’t attract kids with meetings. You attract them with something fun to do.

The Real Problem? We’re Becoming Mini Brunswick

We’re not trying to be dramatic (ok, maybe a little), but EB is slowly turning into New Brunswick Lite. With apartments going up faster than we can say “what happened to the skate park,” it feels like the current administration has forgotten the community part of the community.

You can’t build a town around profit and expect soul to just show up later. People want connection. They want parks that aren’t locked, programs that are meaningful, and leadership that listens.

Instead, we get condos, congestion, and confusion about where the hell kids are supposed to go after school.

Final Thought

There are 17 parks in town. With nothing to do in them.  We have a library. Some kids play sports. But when the options feel limited, when there’s no central place to be, when everything’s behind a paywall or a closed gate — this is what you get. A TikTok moon.

R.B. nailed it: we need to do better.

Because if we don’t give our kids something constructive to do, they’ll find their own way to get attention. And let’s be honest — nobody wants to be featured in “East Brunswick: The Mooning Chronicles.”

Stay tuned, stay vigilant, and maybe, just maybe, let’s try building something that’s not an apartment.

East Brunswick has many great traditions: arguing over school budgets, complaining about leaf collection, and now—our seasonal ritual of Facebook fury over trees. Specifically, the town offering to plant them.

Seems harmless, right? Wrong.

Welcome to the Forest of Discontent

It all started when H.C. posted that the town was offering free trees to homeowners. That’s it. Not a mandate, not a requirement. Just a nice gesture for people who like, you know, nature.

But in EB, even a tree can cause a digital riot.

L.W.C. was first to show up with the chainsaw energy: “Nope… too many trees already in EB.” Sewer line interference, sidewalk destruction, existential dread—you name it, she’s seen it. And she’s not alone.

Murder Sidewalks and Municipal Trauma

Enter S.D., who skipped right past sarcasm and went full HBO monologue: “It is gross negligence (and the legal definition of insanity) to continue doing the same things and expecting different results.” Bro wasn’t just posting—he was testifying.

He followed up with a marketing pitch from hell:

“Do you like having ‘murder sidewalks’ that are your responsibility? Let us plant some trees for you!!!”

If you’ve ever twisted your ankle on a root-rippled sidewalk, you probably felt that one in your soul.

Pine Ridge Peace vs. Fern Road Fear

While most were sharing horror stories of uplifted concrete and bank-draining repairs, L.F. chimed in like a woodland fairy from another dimension: “Am I the only one who loves the trees here?”

Yes, Leo. Yes, you might be.

Stacy M. was quick to bring it back to reality with a chilling tour of Fern Road: fallen trees, sidewalk mayhem, and tree limbs trimmed to look like extras in a Tim Burton film. If you’ve walked that street, you know—it’s less “leafy suburb,” more “Sleepy Hollow.”

Tree Diplomacy Fails Again

Some folks tried to be diplomatic. Y.S. pointed out that the type of tree matters. V.K. noted that there are tree species that don’t rip up your walkways like a toddler with a crayon. But even those reasonable points got stomped out by the same old frustration: when the town picks the tree, you get what you get—and apparently, what you get is usually cracked concrete and a bill.

And Yet… EB Is Still EB

The original post wasn’t trying to plant a war—it was just planting trees. But this is East Brunswick, where every sidewalk crack comes with a Facebook thread and a personal vendetta. Still, amid the sarcasm and sidewalk trauma, something kind of beautiful happened:

People talked.
People vented.
People debated Tim Burton trees.
And nobody got banned.

So no, East Brunswick Helping Each Other didn’t fail. It did what it always does—turned a small gesture into a full-blown saga. And in its own weird way… that’s what makes this place feel like home.

Just maybe not a home with a sidewalk tree.