Tuesday, January 14, 2020

Steve And Alice

"The Kind of Man who wants the Government to adopt and enforce his ideas is always the kind of man whose ideas are idiotic." -- H.L. Mencken

"A much-larger covey hails from the stalwart states that begin with I -- like Iowa and Indiana and Illinois. Bred with just the right combination of fresh air, roughousing, and ignorance, these primitive blondes set out from the cornfields looking like starlight with limbs." -- Amor Towles, "Rules of Civility"

I was quite offended yesterday.

Which is quite the achievement on somebody's part, since I don't offend easily.

As you are well-aware, My Minions, your Overlord has very little tolerance for dumbass in all of it's forms.

One of His least-favorite flavors comes from a particular source:  someone who wants someone else to take the blame for his own stupidity. The particular sin of the gentleman I will now refer to as the Six-Toed Inbred Savant was to denigrate my hometown of Sodom-on-the-Hudson based on little more than the subjective opinions of other people very much like him.

That is to say, he's either unaware of anything beyond his own front door; and if he is aware of it, he's living in denial about it.

To be specific, this particular gentleman has hardly, if ever, left the swamp his Cajun forebears decided was prime real estate. He is an interesting character; he has but four subjects of conversation. These are, in order of frequency, "Saving the White Race", Secession from the United States, Muslims (in any context) and his interest in saving the remaining, dilapidated, waster-logged and abandoned "historic" (probably in the context of "had something to do with slavery. Boy, those were the Good Ol' Days!") buildings of his little one-stop-light-slice-of-hell-with-a-Wal-Mart.

I have never met this gentleman. We are, as they say, "Facebook Friends", but as I've said, he's a fascinating character. He's about 5' 4", in his 60's, and if you've ever wondered if Bea Arthur was buried or cremated, rest assured that at least her vagina found a good home when she shuffled off this mortal coil. It's plastered on his face, passing as a beard.

A telling symptom of a creeping insanity is that he lives in a region known for some of the best cuisine in America (arguably, on the planet) and he is a strict vegetarian.

I must admit to having started the whole thing by being a wise-ass, but when someone makes a defective sperm joke and doesn't realize HE LIVES IN LOUISIANA, it needs to be pointed out to him.

In any case, when these sorts of internet kerfuffles begin between us (it's usually all in good fun, really) when he's been flummoxed and out-witted (for lack of animal protein to the brain), he has a stock set of replies that begin and end with something along the lines of "New York liberals are ruining this country" and "New York values (are bad)".

This phrase, "New York Values", is something indicative of a bumper-sticker mentality. The first time I can recall hearing it, it was uttered by Senator Ted Cruz in the 2016 Presidential primaries, and was a dog whistle to a particularly panty-bunched constituency whose life revolves around their church and neurotic fear that someone, somewhere, might be doing something with their genitals that is proscribed by Scripture, that might be fun, and which somehow interferes with their own personal Salvation by the Invisible Jew in the Sky.

(You know what they say about dog whistles: if you can hear it, what does this make you?)

I once had respect for Senator Cruz, up until he uttered this perfect nonsense. Then again, this was a guy who almost lost his senate seat to Beto O'Rourke, which would have been particularly rich -- an authentic Hispanic would have lost to a fake one largely on the basis of who could better pander to other Hispanics. At that point, any benefit of the doubt I had given Senator Cruz in the brains department flew right the fuck out of the window.

But the other phrase -- the one about "New York Liberals" -- needs closer examination and when you devote the necessary time and effort to it (all of about sixteen seconds, because you fucking live here and experience it every day), you find that this phrase, too, has no meaning, and is, likewise, uttered by an incompetent boob.

This "New York Liberal" meme that is popular among the Great Unwashed Bible-Thumpers needs to be more-closely examined, because it is something of a false label, and because it's ultimate origin lay, indeed, within the fetid swamps of places like Louisiana and the sweaty, rusty suburban Hell that is "Middle America".

In my day, a "New York Liberal" was someone like Daniel Patrick Moynihan, perhaps the last intelligent democrat in America, and if you took the time to read anything he ever wrote and followed his career in government -- as a Senator, a Congressman, adviser to Presidents (even Nixon!), U.N. Ambassador, and thinker -- you'd find that his "liberal" views dovetailed quite nicely with those of the guy who believes The South Will Rise Again. Moynihan opposed forced integration; he opposed most of the premises of the welfare state; he was pretty much convinced that a fixation upon identity politics was bad for America.

As a Native New Yorker (born on the Lower East Side, raised in Brooklyn and Staten Island), these attitudes were -- still are -- common among the other Natives. There is, however, unmistakable evidence that in Modern New York these views are no longer prevalent; the city is rapidly falling into the hands of people obsessed with race, greedy for welfare in all of it's forms (defined as "someone else pays for it"), and saddled with a political leadership to the left of Stalin on most issues.

Something has changed. It wasn't the Natives, nor their beliefs, I can promise you.

It was demographics.

And the funny part is that the change originated in the vast Exodus of Youth from places very much like rural Louisiana, where life was dull, uneventful, an unmitigated Hades of forced CONFORMITY (rather than integration), an economic dead-end, with the added bonus that anyone considered "different" was most likely treated like Frankenstein's monster by the locals who so loudly and proudly crow about their "Family Values" and pride of place, and assign to both a self-bestowed sense of moral superiority.

They all came here. They aren't OUR liberals, dumbass, they're yours. They came here to work, to be gay without being beaten or tormented, to seek something beyond the (failing) family business and methamphetamine. They hate you, so they left for a place where they would feel more accepted (actually, it's more like we don't give a fuck) and which offered them better opportunity.

And they brought their problems with them. Primarily, this was the urge to "get even" with the cross-eyed livestock fuckers who made life miserable for them. Unfortunately, having transported themselves a thousand miles from Pigfucker Hollow, Granny's Snatch RFD and East-Woody-Buttfuck (on the outskirts of Minneapolis, where the local variety of retard does not take second place to some web-footed Cajun Shrek), all the nasty revenge fantasies they had about you were instead enacted upon US. (I've written about this phenomenon before).

They've also created some more of their own (more on this in a second), because being descended from morons and then indoctrinated in the best Day Care Centers With Football Teams colleges America can supply on borrowed money, they only got progressively stupider.

You can hardly find a Native New Yorker, nowadays, for love or money. Walk down the streets of Manhattan, and the passers-by are likely to be refugees from the exurbs of Colorado; the upper-middle-class wanna-be hippies priced out of housing in San Francisco; the pie-eyed-navel-gazer loser from central Idaho; the seeking-fame-and-fortune Second Sons of the Gated Community Set from the ass-end of Michigan.

The natives you do find tend to be very old or are just waiting for the day when their company decides to leave Gotham for the sunnier climes -- and lower taxes -- of Anyplace But Here, and offers to let them keep their well-paid job and pay their relocation expenses, to boot. In something of an irony, the Exodus works in reverse, too: I hear many of my Southern friends complain, often and abundantly, that "all these damned Yankees are ruining everything".

The difference? You didn't send us your best.

And who are these refugees from the Sixth Circle of Dante's Hell, only with a Dairy Queen?

They begin life as Steven and Alice, son or daughter of the local blue-collar worker and/or minor government bureaucrat. They attend John F. Kennedy Elementary School, where they are drenched in Diversity classes and "healthy" school lunches. They grow up tended to by helicopter Mommies, and if they're lucky, with a father who knows their first name. Their lives are an organized mess of arranged play dates, daily lectures on what will give them Autism or Flesh-eating bacteria, or cause a complete stranger to abduct and rape them today,

They graduate Barack Obama Central High ("high" being the operative word, for both idle time and pot abound), spending most of their time trying to figure out how to pass Algebra and how to get a bra off with one hand in the cramped confines of a '92 Honda Civic, unless they happen to be gay, in which case they spend their time dodging the local bullies and Church Group determined to "reprogram" them. Their lives are consumed with fears for their social status and avoiding pregnancy, for lack of access to Planned Parenthood and because the the pharmacist in the local drug store knows everyone by their first name, before going on to the Comintern college.

Here Steve and Alice have their horizons artificially expanded. Mostly by binge drinking and exposure to something other than DQ and Dominos, and perhaps by one book they were forced to read (because no one ever made it into a movie). Between hangovers, skipped menstrual cycles, and having to rub elbows with (and kow-towing to) the Urban Aborigine who they are circulating among for the first time ever and still fear, they will retain just enough of their indoctrination at the hands of an overpaid Hippie to make them dangerous.

They then head off to The Big City to make their Fortune...

...and discover that Real Life is a bitch. A cast-iron one....on wheels. Which makes them miserable.

They will most-likely spend the first few years of their New York Experience moving every few months between $3,000/month shoebox apartments they'll share with a constantly-rotating cast of likewise-transitory "roommates". They will survive on a mixture of cheap, ethnic fast food, and "staple foods" that can be microwaved (because gas for cooking costs money), biking several miles a day (because who can afford a car, let alone park it anywhere?) or packed like sardines in the subways, a traumatic daily experience for anyone raised in a place where their nearest neighbor was several hundred yards to several miles away, and the smells were comfortably connected to manure, in a confusing place that resembles that Tower of Babel thing the preacher man back home was on about, but which they didn't understand, because 4th grade reading level.

Their shared misery and close-proximity to others in the same boat will eventually produce Bohemian patterns of thought and behavior that will engender a strange flirtation with barely-understood Socialism (its all "free" when you think you won't have to pay for it and believe you have a right to it), new and exciting perversions never dreamed of (or spoken of only in hushed tones) in Urine Rapids, Tennessee, stupid ideas about just about everything, and a dawning realization that The Young Pioneers college sold them a bill of goods. They quickly discover that there's a difference between Reality and what one sees on Law and Order or Sex in The City.

It will also cause them to change the spelling of their names to "Steev" and "Ahleeze".

And, of course, there's a greater variety of drugs for you to take.

If they mange to persevere through this initial segment of real-life Survivor without dying of AIDS, catching Hepatitis, or being knifed to death by an escaped mental patient, they will have "established" themselves in some sort of career.

For Steev this will probably have something to do with either skateboards or Internet Marketing, as these are the only things he has any passion for or any skills in. For Ahleeze, this will take the form of some useless string of jobs which produce absolutely nothing of value, and are usually funded by government. Like "The Arts" or "Education". If either has an advanced degree, like law, they will find sinecures in the "non-profit" sector, which survives by skimming donations and government grants, but which, likewise, does nothing useful. The worst of the lot will find themselves employed by some form of government (but not the useful kind, like cops and firemen).

Eventually, Steev meets Ahleeze at a"free" outdoor Mongolian Throat Singing expo in Central Park (entertainment is expensive. Take advantage!). They have a few lattes together, they will text one another constantly for a year, and they will live something like a whirlwind romance that will largely revolve around free virtue-signalling events, drug-fueled sexual encounters, frequent visits to free clinics, and sampling "multicultural" hotspots recommended by Pravda the NY Times Weekend Section.

Steev and Ahleeze will soon have "status" as a couple with a combined income in the six-figures obtained by virtue of their "profession" (being based upon the extraction and not production of wealth); their "friends" will almost all share this unique state, and it will be time to consummate this arrangement in something resembling marriage.

So, neckbearded (shaving cream and razors cost money, and even though Steev has some now, old habits die hard), skateboard-riding Steev and works-with-the-handicapped-for-the-State-half-shaved-headed Ahleeze will have to consider where they will live. The primary concerns in this regard are the following:

1. Where do their friends live?
2. Is the neighborhood considered up-and-coming (translation: is it a gentrified former ghetto?)?
3. Is there a Whole Foods nearby?
4. Distance from nearest minority community.
5. Proximity to "work".

And so it is that Steev and Ahleeze manage to snag a tony $1 million Concentration Camp Cell co-op in a formerly-industrial area of Brooklyn, liberally sprinkled with fashionable coffee shops (which close and re-open under New Management every four-to-six months), trendy clothing stores (selling crap made by slave labor overseas for outrageous prices), Beer and Wine bars (where no one knows the slightest thing about either, but if you shout "IPA!" and "Argentine Prosecco!" often enough, you can fake expertise). Soon, Steev and Ahleeze will propagate the species, and have 2.5 pink babies and a foo-foo fucking barking rat on a leash that leads us to the second set of problems mentioned above.

For you see, neither Steev nor Ahleeze actually WANTS kids. It's just something they have to do, because it's the next step in advertising their newly-found status. After all, their "friends" are having babies, and there's benefits to being both property owners and parents -- you get to fuck with everyone, and remember, these are miserable little fuckers to begin with. This problem -- needing to procreate for the status and power it brings, but not wanting to interrupt one's life in order to do it -- calls into existence a need for servants,

Unfortunately, servants cost money, and Steev and Ahleeze have been conditioned by several years of austerity not to spend any unless it's on themselves, it indulges one of their selfish perversions, or it can be used to acquire a social status symbol. Enter, the Illegal Alien.

Walk through any "trendy" neighborhood in this city in daylight, and the predominant sight to greet your eyes will be a cavalcade of brown women pushing double-wide strollers full of white babies, usually given gender-neutral names like "Jordan" or "Sam", so that the little fucker can make a choice about what gender it wants to be by the time it's four years old. All day long, the parade of Corazons and Ibewakes, the Soons and Sangitas, passes by to the music of them yelling into their cellphones, speaking eight kinds of Spanish, Creole, Korean, Chinese, Bantu, French and Urdu.

There's usually a matching housekeeper who comes in twice a week.

People with even more money and higher social status opt for "Au Pairs", which is really a fancy term for "Imported European Whore", with whom Rich Steev will be playing a rousing game of Bury-the-bone-or-no-Green-Card-for-you, while Rich Ahleeze brags to her friends about being so rich (for doing nothing) they could afford to import a slave from Switzerland or Italy.

More demographic change.

Next problem. Because Jordan and Sam (or, any of the -den names that are popular, and which I despise, Hayden, Aiden, Jaden, and in close third is the -son series, Jameson, Madison, Addison, Harrison, and so on) will need to go to school, eventually, they will need schools that reflect their parent's status, as well.

This means exclusive schools -- from pre-K to High School -- where the little Nosepickers of Privilege will be protected from the Reality their parents had to endure. Since Steev and Ahleeze are well-to-do-but-fucking-cheap, this means arm-twisting and browbeating the local Public School system into creating and funding (meaning higher taxes for everyone) special "programs" that only the Imported Douchebags have access to, and which teach the questionable "values" that all trendy parents wish to inculcate within their children -- how to be a selfish fucktard without being seen to be a selfish fucktard.

Soon, there is rancor from the People O' Color who want what the virtue-signalling retards have wrought for them selves, while the retards fight a fierce rear-guard action designed to feign solidarity with the masses while expressing the most-overt and condescending racism and classism.

Then, of course, comes the predictable outcome.

Jordan, after being raised mostly by a Jamaican nanny and a bunch of Haitian "teacher's aides", doesn't relate to Mommy. She (She? He? Xir? It? They? has the little bastard made up it's fucking mind yet?). This is a sign that Jordan has a disability, probably autism (we'll go to a hundred doctors until we get that diagnosis, so we don't have to admit culpability), and most likely some gender dysphoria and an anxiety problem that requires large doses of Xanax.

Sam, in similar fashion, will later be found to have "a learning disability" because the first language he learned was something other than English (from the nanny, who he thinks is his real mother) and he got no attention from his parents, will be diagnosed ADHD and need a steady stream of Aderall before he shoots up a shopping mall (oh, wait, Gun Control here!).

Of course, since Steev and Ahleeze are both ridiculously cheap (but they managed to afford the leather upholstery in the BMW SUV this year) and unaware of their own contributions to their offspring's problems, demand that someone else fix them for them.

This means "the school", "the state", "the city", "the community", anyone but themselves.

And in the meantime, both Steev and Ahleeze go about their phony-baloney lives of pretending "to care" about everyone else -- like when they attend "Affordable Housing Marches" after people very much like them turned the affordable housing into a constellation of luxury condominiums, Shwarma-Asian fusion joints, Starbucks, Whole Foods, and Health food stores offering the full panoply of "Holistic" bullshit and maybe even a monthly Farmer's Market -- or attending hockey games because it's now "the place to be seen" when they don't even like hockey (Toxic Masculinity on Display!), don't understand the game, and show up looking for all the world like European soccer fans with ridiculously long scarves and chanting complete gibberish.

They will demand that someone "do something" about their kids' need for a sex change op; they will demand more bike-lanes because it's "Green", which translates to "keeps other people's filth away from my valuable property" (half the bike lanes in this city don't actually lead ANYWHERE, and do nothing but make traffic worse); they will demand more "open spaces" that turns the real estate needed for their "Affordable Housing" nonsense into ersatz concrete parks chock full of expensive bad art and sunbathing anorexics by day, and zombie-like heroin addicts by night (who have free needles courtesy of the taxpayer, because "do something" about AIDS).

The Homeless (made so by the need to get Steev and Ahleeze a condo), meanwhile, gravitate around the edges.

They'll vote for any asshole who promises them the sun, the moon and the stars and that someone else will pay for it. In any case, Steev and Ahleeze have reached the point where they "earn" enough on two over-inflated incomes to not notice the higher taxes.

I can still buy them both three times over and have change left over.

And it's everyone else who is a Nazi hater with no compassion.

Steev and Ahleeze have come a long way from Frozen Scrotum, Wisconsin and Goat's Bottom, Kansas, and along the way they have vicariously acted out their revenge fantasies against the people who fucked up their lives on us. They have turned New York into what their demented vision of what Pisswater Falls, Missouri should have been, if only the assholes back home recognized how "special" Steev and Ahleeze really were.

We have to deal with the end products of their inbreeding; their mental disorders; the bad education they received; the selfishness that comes from entitlement; the seething rage against their tormentors; the raging case of dumbass that seems prevalent in many places between the Appalachians and the Rockies and along the Mississippi.

They have destroyed a once-great city. You can see this phenomenon in many other places, wherever these locusts go -- San Francisco, Los Angeles, Chicago, Boston, the towns around Washington, D.C.

The Natives leave, for life has been made unbearable in order to placate the upwardly-mobile-former-shitkicker. The Streets are full of pussies in manbuns and permanently-menstrual wolverines pushing carriages full of screaming, sneezing, coughing, un-vaccinated, over-medicated, free-range retards and autistic status symbols.  They all claim to be victims of something.

The Old Neighborhoods, which had character and life, now are mere holding pens for skinny, tattooed, wanna-be hippies drinking "beer" with chocolate in it, and eating "cuisine" based on grasshoppers and yard clippings. These are terrible, angry, depressed, spiteful, selfish and clueless morons wandering the streets complaining about everything, taking no positive action to fix anything, and expecting the world to be dropped into their laps.

New Yorkers never behaved in this way. We were doers, we were dreamers. Give us a shitty situation, and we'll put things right (see: any blizzard, hurricane, blackout, or 9/11, for examples); this new import crosses the street against the signal with it's head buried in it's phone, earbuds blocking out sound, and then looks at you crooked when you nearly run his faggity ass over; it runs you down on the sidewalk with it's bike, bedecked in Spandex as if it's the Tour du France and then flees before the police arrive not even bothering to ask if you're okay, cursing you; it holds rallies in your neighborhood calling you "Nazi" because you won't give your house away to a Person O' Color, from whom they've taken a house. Every problem requires an impassioned, menstrual temper tantrum until "authority" fixes the pet peeve.

No, these are not "New Yorkers". They just have an address here.

These are your rejects, Mr. Vaginabeard, and they have arrived in numbers sufficient to outvote us regular folks; they have called into being a massive underclass of virtual slaves that have nothing to lose (except other people's money) and which also lives very well on the fat of the land, and they ALL came full of enough piss and vinegar to be nasty and obnoxious about it, too.

Thanks for making and then exporting passive-aggressive fascists.

But don't worry, for there's probably some good news in your future.

Given the absolute shitty state of affairs here, and the great reverse Migration to the South, it's only a matter of time before your locale is overwhelmed by transplanted Yankees who will do to you what you've done to us here in New York. The difference being that when they transform your one-horse-town from a mud-caked collection of rambling shacks and outhouses, where shotgun-toting Grandmas smoking corn-cob pipes are chasing runaway hogs in the street,and where the biggest events are the daily mail delivery and maybe the daily Greyhound stop, into New York on a smaller scale, you'll be better off for it.

New York liberals? Go fuck yourself, you Cajun Cuntrag.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Nailed it.