Here is the surprising thing for you my dear reader. Cataline actually rather likes NYC. Shocking I know. I'm as surprised as anybody but there it is. "The City," has a fairly major I don't give fuck what you are doing so long as you are not doing it in my face attitude that I find attractive.
I wouldn't want to live there of course. The cost of living in obscene and you can't legally carry unless you know who to bribe. Not to mention the fact that the Great Gulp is coming and I don't want to be surrounded by seven million starving mouths when it arrives.
None the less, if you are either rather poor or quite rich, it's an easy city to live in and the girls are surprisingly responsive to Day Game. I mean it's like it was twenty years ago in the clubs. It's honestly that easy.
So anyway Gavin McInnes is rich and chooses to live there. He also supports Trump in a big way.
He found out something very interesting, that I already knew.
That’s where I started my journey. I wore a “Make America Great Again” hat and shirt to a hipster bar called Nitehawk in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The venue doubles as a movie theater and is in the epicenter of a cool-kid enclave that has become so yuppified, the real estate is now more expensive than Manhattan’s. I noticed some smiles as I sat down at the bar, and people nodded their heads and even raised the occasional glass. I said, “Thanks” and was pleasantly surprised, until I realized they assumed I was being ironic. “Where did you get that?” asked one grinning millennial on a date. I said, “The website,” and my new friend glared at me with a confused face. “You support Trump?” he asked, on the off chance I was serious. “I most certainly do,” I responded. He laughed and faced the bar, deciding it wasn’t worth his time to try to figure out how serious I was. This happened several times throughout the night, with people smiling, then looking confused, then giving up.
The next day I was still in the neighborhood (I’m selling my place there) and could walk down the street with the shameless glory only the morning sun can provide. Williamsburg doesn’t get busy until around 11 a.m., but the few stragglers walking to work or home alone from a one-night stand were not like their peers from last night. I thought I’d get sneers, but what I got—almost without exception—was capitulation. When people looked at me, I’d happily return their gaze and they’d inevitably face the ground. They didn’t look disappointed. They looked cowed. This is what I’ve always suspected. They don’t want to smash the patriarchy.
They want to rail against the patriarchy, unless of course it has a problem with that, in which case, well, uh, nothing, sorry.
There it is kiddies. Be savage in your boldness. They know they've lost the right and the ability to stand as freemen.
They just hope we never find out.