This article, from the NY Times (and I apologize for that up front, by the way) has been making the rounds lately. Given how many New Yorkers (and Californians) have been cropping up around this state in the last ten years, I feel compelled to add my two cents. I will say up front that I know not all New Yorkers are like this, and some can still be cool (Hi Michele!). There are around nine billion of these other fuckers crammed onto that tiny island though, and this is for them.
ATTENTION NEW YORKERS: THAT BULLSHIT IS WHY WE HATE YOU.*
In the course of my scant years on this dusty brown chunk of the US I have chosen to occupy, I have met every single one of the people from that article, at least in character. And for note, these problems are not exclusive to New York, though I’m sure one of their die-hard boosters would happily stand up and claim their neurotics are more neurotic than Los Angeles/Phoenix/Chicago/Megafuckopolis’ neurotics, but that’s a separate “Why New York Sucks” post. This panty-wetting nancery at the mere prospect of encountering wildlife appears to those of us more accustomed to the notion that animals exist outside the zoo and meat counter to be behaviors expected of an eight-year-old child kid camping in the back yard for the first time. This flat cowardice in the face of what so many are clearly dealing quite well with would be on its own if not acceptable, at least understandable. Unfortunately, rather than accept that there are environments ill suited to their particular form of existance, the recently arrived anchovies begin trying to mold the new environment to their particular liking, which means tranforming the pleasant rural environment they so desired in the first place into yet another Mini-NY, complete with overcrowding, horrible fashion, gun laws that even the most disabled Downs Syndrome patient would consider stupid, crime, more overcrowding, oh, and could someone please get rid of those pesky elk? They keep coming in and eating our fruit! I wish I was making that up, too. One particular New York Fucker my family had the misfortune to deal with some time ago actually said that. Well no fucking shit, you enlightend and sophisticated twat. They tend to do that. What the hell is wrong, New York? Did you watch one too many reruns of “Green Acres” and decide that Oliver Wendell Douglas was on to something? Too bad nobody took into account that the average NY Male is about as masculine and capable as Eva Gabor these days.
The snobby fucks with the weekend houses and no idea how to live in them are disgusting. You perpetually refer to us as “Flyover Country” and rural bumpkins, hicks, “machine people, not like my
helpless, incompetent, idiotic enlightened artistic ass self”, etc. If you fall into this category, do everyone the biggest favor of your non-productive life: Stay in the city! The tales of tourists in NY getting progressively shittier and shittier treatment are nigh endless. Here’s the other side of the equation, jackasses: We don’t like you in our environment either. I don’t lobby to turn cougars and bears loose on Manhattan (well, not very hard at least), and I know damn well that I am not suited to spending any time in that glass and concrete sardine tin you’re all so fond of, so I stay well clear of it. Being packed shoulder to shoulder and living in a space where turning around means you’d better be damn friendly with your neighbors is as alien to me as the notion of chasing a thousand pound antlered critter from the yard (another alien idea to you folks) is on 5th Avenue. Come on out and be tourists. Even though we’re not fond of you, you’ll probably get better treatment than tourists in your own town will. Spend some money skiing, go for a hike – if you can stand the notion that you might encounter an animal bigger than a squirrel – and go home. That’s the important part: Go. Home. Know your limitations.
Sure, there are some advantages to the city. Personally, I’d love to have a genuine cut-to-order butcher closer than 100 miles away. This is what is known as a trade-off. I get my space, elk in the yard, etc, I give up the instant gratification of having a specialty shop for every conceivable specialty within five miles. If you cannot understand this trade off, do not make it. Anybody from the big city (especially coastal cities; I know Phoenix has a healthy gun culture for example) consdering a more rural life, ask yourself this: If you see your new neighbor walking around casually with a gun, will your first thought be along the lines of “He might kill me!”? If the answer is yes, you might not belong outside the city.
I will happily continue to be a bumpkin in flyover country, so long as the quivering little sods as described in the original article continue happily to be urban sophisticates. This is most certainly not a happy case of “You got your chocolate in my peanut butter,” so stop forcing it. Yankee go home!
*Yes, I’m sure there are a couple New Yorkers who are bona fide outdoorsmen, wonderful folk, not like this at all, etc, but the day I meet someone from NY City, especially the city proper, who doesn’t work it into the first five minutes of conversation, usually with “X is better there,” I will probably require emergency medical attention from surprise.