Word: rican
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Over last weekend, after a Puerto Rican Day parade, roving gangs of young men ran wild in New York's Central Park, molesting and sexually assaulting dozens of women. I have had long discussions with friends about the gangs' motives. Lust? Hatred of women? Warrior machismo? Drunkenness? A dynamic form of mob stupidity? To parse the motives of the gangs assumes that they were acting on anything as coherent as Motive. Who cares? What matters is not why they did it, but that they did it. How can such a basic foundation of law be so blithely and witlessly subverted...
Five short days ago, both men were pooh-poohing the idea that police stood idly by as perhaps as many as 37 women were sexually assaulted in Central Park during the drunken, hot aftermath of the June 10 Puerto Rican Day parade. But after five days of unwelcome, outraged national media attention, both men had cast aside their cavalier attitudes and were miraculously transformed into the urban equivalent of white knights, galloping in (albeit a few days late) to save their city and its women from bands of marauding molesters...
...back in New York (some of my own savage people, long ago) who were busy honoring their particular heritage by vomiting in the gutters outside the Blarney Stone on Third Avenue. This last weekend, I should have flown back to Papua New Guinea in honor of the National Puerto Rican Day Parade. Instead, I found myself accidentally in New York City. A mistake. The Puerto Rican Day parade in New York is as bad an advertisement for the Puerto Ricans as St. Patrick's Day is for the Irish...
...Puerto Rican parade was especially awful this year - weather unbearably hot and sticky, thirsts more urgent than usual, it seemed, and therefore, as the afternoon advanced, the eyes of the celebrants glassier and their tempers nastier...
...last for the other 364. The fancy people along Fifth Avenue (the route of the parade) board up their buildings, leave their doormen at the barricades, and go off to the Hamptons for the weekend. Does not an aspect of gleeful class hatred and defiance throb in the Puerto Rican music, and flap tautly in the Puerto Rican flags on cars that speed down Park and Lex and Second, horns blaring, with half a dozen revolutionaries hanging out the windows, as if they had just occupied the capital...