The Day the Music Died

NEW YORK—Back when people used to read newspapers, they called it a “human interest” story; now it appears as just another statistic. The utter drivel expressed daily by the know-nothings in social media will have ignored it, but for a dreaded Biden sheet that actually published the story: A young Japanese man came over to the Bagel from Tokyo to make it as a jazz pianist, and that he did. He started a trio of his own and toured with several bands until the fateful night of Sept. 27, when he rode the New York subway after a video shoot. Tadataka Unno is now 40 years old and a new father, but he most likely will never play an instrument as a professional again.

Coming off the subway at 135th Street, the Japanese musician was suddenly surrounded by a group of young people, as the participants in the vicious encounter were described. Like in the U.K., the media over here do not describe criminals by their race or ethnicity. Only whites are described as such in a felonious dispute. The so-called young people beat the young Japanese musician for no known reason, fracturing his right collarbone, injuring his arm, and rendering his right hand useless. He now uses his left hand only, and the fuzz has made no arrests, although the beating was all on camera. Throughout the ordeal he was called a Chinese motherf—er. “Young people” beating some stranger nowadays is hardly a crime the cops will bother with in Harlem, thanks to Mayor de Blasio’s and Governor Cuomo’s woke liberal policies. Why bother to arrest anyone who will walk after ten minutes, is the police thinking. Bail for lesser crimes than murder such as looting is no longer required, perpetrators simply have their names taken down, are given a future court date, and are free to walk.

“Much about the city I once loved now just plain stinks.”

Tadataka has lived in Harlem for twelve years. His mother had repeatedly warned against his move because of the dangers involved when living in a dump like New York City. But this is where jazz piano thrives and where the apparently very gentle Tada settled. He was very popular with his fellow musicians, or ex–fellow musicians, I should note. Readers of this column are familiar with the affection and admiration I hold for Japanese people. They are brave, tough, clean, and extremely polite; but most important of all, they cherish their ancestors and respect traditions. They are the exact opposite of the scummy cowards who attacked him, eight against one being the kind of odds so admired by Hollywood war movies. Oh yes, I almost forgot, there were lots of bystanders during the attack, but not a single one came forward to help. This is the Noo Yawk we all love so much, the city of legend that never sleeps, a place inhabited by cowards, criminals, freeloaders, and freaks, as far as I’m concerned.

Yet again, never mind. But I do. Only in today’s antiwhite climate would such a story be turned on its head on social media posts about pro-Trump racist white supremacists. It makes one wonder if social media were around in 1945, whether inmates in concentration camps would have been accused of torturing their guards. Ditto in the Gulag. Tada is on very strong painkillers and he cannot hold his baby son in his arms, let alone play the piano. He and his wife are thinking of returning to Japan.

And speaking of the Land of the Rising Sun, I’ve been back to the dojo, training hard with only two other men in the room. It’s nice to feel bruises again after months of Zoom karate, something the martial art has turned into in America because so many get hit and then sue. After a particularly bruising session last week I dined with Freddy Gray and Zack Christenson in an Upper East Side bistro and we sort of drank the place dry. Around these parts 95 or more percent of the people wear masks outside and take them off once inside. Go figure! More indoor dining followed chez the president of Pugs Club, Prince Pavlos of Greece, with father-in-law Bob Miller and fellow member Arkie Busson also in attendance. Actually the house belongs to Bob, and he pointed out that his neighbors are the Frick museum, Bill Cosby, and Jeffrey Epstein. “That’s three out of four good guys,” I said, because Cosby got a very raw deal after paying off a blackmailer. Pavlos and his wife, M.C., have really beautiful children, and it got me thinking. If it weren’t for Phil the Greek I’d hate to imagine what the British royals would look like. I might be heading south with the Greek royals sooner rather than later.

Much about the city I once loved now just plain stinks. They’ve even started to riot on Fifth Avenue now, with office towers 85 percent empty, and no one will be paying taxes that keep a large proportion of Noo Yawkers in readies once tenants walk away from leases. De Blasio has turned the streets over to criminals, homeless lunatics, and mountains of uncollected garbage. The lockdown has crippled small businesses and the rich have moved to the Hamptons and Palm Beach. Sales in houses in the Hamptons have skyrocketed, 973 million for the third quarter alone. The city is no longer fit for humans, and somebody should have warned poor Tada. But BLM is thriving.



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