St. Francis of Broadway.
(UPDATE: commenter bro. hughes says this is in fact Saint Lazarus. And he is right. 'Hello Hell? Reservation for one please.')
Sorry, but I'm just not ready to dive back into the backed-up cesspool of shitty advertising. Instead, let's start this week with the final chapter of the story of St. Francis of Assisi. In 1219, Francis tried to make peace with the Muslims of Egypt and their leader sultan Melek-el-Kamel. Francis challenged him to walk through fire, made a few inroads, blah blah blah, nothing major. When he crossed back into Damietta, he was declared a heretic for even talking to those evil scummy Muslims, and the Crusaders literally wanted his head. But they were talked into sheathing their swords by the sultan, and Francis went on to do some miracles with birds and wolves, got Stigmata-ed and died. Finally here, on the hard streets of Manhattan in a pile of refuse, a truly devout Catholic has given Mr. Poverty his comeuppance. (UPDATE: kicker line if I'd known this was Lazarus: Let's see you rise from the dead now, Bitch!)
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST: now another commenter says it's St. Fucking Roch. And she appears to maybe be right.
(found and photographed by the eagle-eyed and lithe archeress)
previously in Streets of NYC:
2. The Great Wall of New York.
3. NYC window displays: Zamir furs.
4. Tribeca Horror Film Festival.
5. The "Target" Bus.