November 23, 2009
I don’t think I hate anyone more than the people who glamorize a dangerous and dying New York. This is from an article in the London Telegraph about how NY has lost its edge:
There is always a tinge of sentimental pride in my friend Roger’s voice when he recalls the story of how he was humiliatingly mugged as a teenager in his home town of New York. Roger, a paradigm of that species of neurosis-laden, neophytic, obnoxious intellectual that used to inhabit the city in droves, was at the time 13 and hanging out with two equally nerdy friends, the way teenagers do, outside a petrol station for no reason in the middle of the night.
Somehow they were leapt on by a gang who robbed them not only of their money but all their clothes. For good measure the gang spray-painted their tag across the naked chests of the three boys, who were forced to walk home naked, petrified and yet altered: “That day” Roger likes to reminisce, not altogether ironically, “we became men.”
Those things don’t happen in New York any more. But some people wish they did.
YA. People are just dying to get mugged. Or, even better, to have their 13-yr old kid get mugged. I hear it all the time. If only little Roger would get mugged, have to walk home naked and have his body spray-painted, that would make that fey boy into a man.
But, actually, tied for my hatred with the aforementioned people who glamorize a decrepit NY are people who pretend to hate money. So, bankers are apparently like, so “out” maaaaan. Fine. But to say money isn’t “cool”? Dude. That’s a special kind of stupid:
As an exercise in damage limitation, some nightclubs in the city have now refused to renew annual membership to those working in the financial sector. “We want to distance ourselves from bankers, even if they helped to set us up in the first place,” one told me. “They’re pariahs. Money is just not cool any more.”
As I’ve written before, send me that uncool cash. I’m willing to live with the trauma of being unpopularly rich.
Finally, sure, it’s always sad when institutions like CBGB close down. But anyone who has lived in NY for a hot minute may remember that the Bowery was just about the most disgusting place in the city. Hookers, crackheads, violent homeless all congregated on the Bowery. So really, we’re supposed to be upset that now it’s the location of designer shops? No. Not if you’re actually a New Yorker and not someone who came here after college looking for a way to piss off their parents.
Gawker rips London a new one over this piece (”Your tabloid newspapers make the New York Post look like The Paris Review” and “Your nightlife is just stupid. Pubs close at 11, our bars don’t close until four. Who goes to bed at 11? Are you serious? So you guys open up clubs that close at 2AM that have two kinds of people in them: the kind who get unceremoniously drunk and piss on everything, or the places Prince Harry goes.”) which is kind of unfair because this woman doesn’t speak for London. London is a fine enough city, but ain’t anything in the world like New York.