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 “€œNo 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 “€œNazi”€ 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 “€œsuicide bombing is sometimes or often justified.”€ At least the guys who do Civil War reenactments can answer basic questions about their hobby.

“€œAt 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 “€œNazi”€ 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 “€œNazis 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, “€œThere 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. “€œWho do they think the guy is that they”€™re pepper-spraying?”€ I asked. “€œDo 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, “€œWhose 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. “€œThen 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. “€œEvery time you get driven to lacrosse,”€ I told one kid, “€œit 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, “€œNorthern soul.”€ If you insisted the rocker retort, he”€™d say, “€œEddie Cochran.”€



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