A Plague of Ingrates

Matt Forney in Taki Mag on why the pasty white hipsters making asses of themselves in NYC aren't really New Yorkers, but rather a swarm of narcissistic locusts:

Andy Cush is yet another dilettante in the long line of NYC transplants living off Mommy’s credit line. Usually hailing from stagnant backwaters like Wisconsin or Minnesota, they migrate to New York to fulfill their dream of fronting an “art noise duo” or getting their quirky novel about growing up in the suburbs of Des Moines published. They’ve never fired a gun, balanced a checkbook, or lived in a ZIP code that was less than 90 percent white, yet they think they’re qualified to lecture the little people on the evils of racism and misogyny.

It’s because of the Great Midwestern Twit Migration that de Blasio is even mayor. A Red Sox fan with a black, Sapphic pit bull of a wife and zero accomplishments to his name, he couldn’t get elected dogcatcher in the old NYC. But thanks to 20 years of gentrification and ridiculous tax rates, you’ll find more native New Yorkers in a Raleigh sports bar than in the city itself.

One year after the red diaper baby’s coronation as mayor, the rot in New York is evident. De Blasio’s biggest accomplishments include raising taxes to fund a ghetto daycare program... banning horse-drawn carriages at the behest of his campaign donors, and lowering the city’s speed limit to increase traffic tickets. His hayseed constituents have also pressured the MTA into launching a campaign against “manspreading” on the subway, because millennial women are too socially retarded to ask strangers if they can sit down next to them.

The badge-baiting of Andy Cush and company should be seen for what it is: the petulant screaming of spoiled brats. Wilting violets who go “EEK!” at rats in subway tunnels and hate how rude New Yorkers are yet still think they have what it takes to be cultural pioneers. Every trustafarian snacking on $9 salmon sandwiches in Bushwick sees herself as the new Lydia Lunch, oblivious to the fact that Lunch got her name because she was so poor she had to steal food to keep her ribs from meeting her spine.

And thanks to the hipster left egging on cop killers, the NYPD has thrown up their hands and gone home. Traffic tickets and other minor citations have plummeted in recent days, and beat cops are sitting out their patrols like it’s the John Lindsay days all over again. Unsurprisingly, the hairy Midwesterners who are Tweeting #ICantBreathe are shocked that the people they constantly insult and berate are less than enthused about protecting them. When the inevitable crime wave happens, watch for all the anti-police hipsters to claw their way onto Milwaukee-bound Greyhounds like Dalits on a Calcutta train.

It's not just New York, either. There is an entire generation of the grandchildren of the '60s hippies infesting this country. Their personalities are a foul mixture of the rich effete who brought down ancient Rome and the anarchists who tried to bring down America in the late 19th century. These whiny soft-hands are stunted mentally, physically and emotionally, the parasitical offspring of a predictable food surplus. They must eventually be run off into the savanna to be eaten by lions, lest they pollute the gene pool beyond recovery. Historically speaking, sooner is better when dealing with such problems.

Also, I've now added "trustifarian" to my lexicon. That's funny right there.