February 09, 2017
Source: Bigstock
I got maced last week. I was trying to get into NYU to do a talk for the school’s Republican club but there was a mob of protesters outside screaming retarded slogans such as “No Trump, no KKK, no fascist USA!” Punching Nazis in the face is hot right now and the fact that Nazis don”t exist has become totally irrelevant. To meet their quotas, they have made “Nazi” mean: any white male who isn”t deeply ashamed of himself. So yeah, I guess I”m a Nazi. Actually, I shouldn”t even say that as a joke. They are so desperate to make this lie true, they will likely take that out of context and make it into a T-shirt.
My speech was going to be about the looming specter of white supremacy and how it’s an academic fabrication. I was going to tell these students that the fight for Marxist equality their professors have trained them to take on is a fairy tale. Sorry, kids, but it’s not 1961 anymore. You can”t ride in a bus from town to town blowing minds by eating lunch next to a black guy. Trump is not a Nazi. The people who voted for him are far too numerous to be white supremacists. Your villain is the Easter Bunny. These kids know this deep down. They”re like goths glorifying death and sleeping in a coffin. They don”t really want to die. It’s all a game. They”re not trying to improve society. They”re not even in society. Ninety-two percent of antifa activists live with their parents. These people make lobster porn and have no idea what the fuck they”re talking about. Go ask one. Ask an NYU student”or any college student, for that matter”what countries are included in the travel ban and who came up with the list. Ask them what percentage of Muslim men between 18 and 25 think “suicide bombing is sometimes or often justified.” At least the guys who do Civil War reenactments can answer basic questions about their hobby.
Their entire self-image is based on America being racist and fascism being an imminent threat. These kids were screaming “Nazi” at me and pushing past police to kick my ass, but the second they got punched or even shoved, they screamed for police. That’s why they don”t want to debate. They don”t have the courage of their convictions. After making my way through the crowd and washing my eyeballs for twenty minutes in the bathroom, I was able to go upstairs to the pavilion where they were hosting the talk (I noticed an Asian girl fanatically taking pictures of me so I took a picture of her for posterity). I could immediately see that well over half the audience were there to make sure I wasn”t able to talk. There was one table of kids wearing MAGA hats but many more tables of kids holding stupid signs that said “Nazis are bad” or something. One kid was holding a drawing of the fuck-you finger. What a pussy.
Just for fun, I said to the crowd, “There are three problems with America: the black, the woman, and the homosexual!” This led to audible gasps. The protesters weren”t prepared to meet the bogeyman they had invented. They didn”t know what to do. Then I made it crystal clear I was kidding and asked the crowd if this was the person the protesters were there to stop. “Who do they think the guy is that they”re pepper-spraying?” I asked. “Do they think I”m going to get out here like, “The Holocaust is a lie!”?” Once the crowd realized everything was normal, they could get back to pretending to be outraged and chanted, “Whose campus? Our campus!” again and again and again. I told the crowd I was nervous immediately after I got sprayed because I worried it was acid. “Then I remembered, this isn”t Islam,” I said proudly. This outraged the protesters and their chants became too loud for me to get a word in edgewise. I approached them and offered up an extra microphone. I said they could come up on stage and make their point. They recoiled in horror at the idea and stared at the ground while chanting like catatonic Moonies. I told them they were rich kids and I know their father. He’s a real estate lawyer who trades in his Range Rover every time it approaches 20,000 miles. “Every time you get driven to lacrosse,” I told one kid, “it smells like new car.” This didn”t shut them up. The only thing they seemed to hate was the idea of having to give specifics or make their opinions heard. In retrospect, I should have just grabbed one and hurled him across the table. That was the only thing these kids would understand. They”re not here for politics or a rational discussion. They”re here to look cool. It’s a new subculture. It’s basically an evolution of the mods fighting the rockers on Brighton Beach in the 1960s, but without the balls to actually fight. If you gave a mod a mic back then and insisted he make his point, he”d say, “Northern soul.” If you insisted the rocker retort, he”d say, “Eddie Cochran.”
