Bay Aryan Resistance
San Francisco constantly struggles with itself to solve the question of how many assholes it's possible to fit into a square mile. How many cybersissies can you cram into a phone booth? How many Gaia-peddling belly-floppers? How many self-absorbed monkish Nerf® balls of ideological irrelevance? How many dayglo lemon-meringue fashion tarantulas? How many gaunt, cellophane-wrapped nipple-tweakers? How many prune-twatted hipster debutantes?
It's a star-lit ballroom full of elitists masquerading as egalitarians. Of snobs pretending to be socialists. Of petty backstabbers who appoint themselves as moral crusaders. These creeps can't get along with the other 99% of the country—shit, most of their time is spent quarreling among themselves—yet they try to fist-fuck you with Universal Brotherhood.
Almost down to the very last shaved anus, San Franciscans are a xenophobic breed. If you don't speak, look, and act like a San Franciscan, their policy is one of Zero Tolerance. They're totalitarian in the sense that they insist on controlling the thoughts and lives of others through forceful statist intervention. In doing so, they align themselves with the establishment which they pretend to be overthrowing. They're a buncha urban supremacists. Unyielding. Humorless. Stuffed to the gills with an unwarranted sense of their own cultural/moral superiority. I call them "Bay Aryans."
Surely I must be kidding, that I don't mean to compare such twinkle-toed West Coast coolness-mongerers to the TEETH-CHATTERINGLY SINISTER ATROCITIES of the Nazi pork-butchers. After all, Hitler killed six million Jewboys! That's enuff goldurned Heeb-a-roos to fill eight San Franciscos. You may be right, tootsie-pop, but are you aware that non-racist, peace-licking, universal-personhood-touting communist governments have slaughtered ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY MILLION PEOPLE this century? The commies beat Hitler 20-1. Their unbounded love for "humanity" didn't seem to put a check on an even stronger love for controlling and killing human beings. So much for your murky notions of government-mandated humanism. Better a Nazi than a commie, I guess.
And either one's better than a Bay Aryan. Being born in San Francisco is excusable, provided that you evacuate within 30 days of reaching adulthood. But moving TO the Bay Area is unforgivable under any circumstance. Based on an unfortunate long-term trend of Freak Relocation, the town has become a sort of Kurdish tent village of refugee weirdlings. A once-pretty city with happy-flappy seagulls has degenerated into an island of whitebreads-in-exile who've all fled from hometown persecution. San Francisco's foggy hills have become America's Largest Support Group, a Jonestown for people who were socially traumatized in high school. Within city limits, I think San Francisco's fine as a cultural sanctuary for oversocialized misfits. Its danger lies in an apparently insatiable drive to vengefully impose its values on everyone outside the fortress. I think it's good that you people should have your own ghetto. I just think we should build a fence around it.
Among most humans, the need for social approval seems stronger than the desire to know the truth. Rejected by the Überclique, the Bay Aryans form cliques of their own. Blind puppies in a cardboard box, they crawl over each other groping for "scene" status. So weak as individuals, they truly believe that "scene" status is a worthwhile goal. They howl about "fighting fascism," yet they exhibit a strong urge to feel part of some "community," which is the first flash of the fascist impulse.
You all need a crowd. You all need a movement. You need to be surrounded by the wool of a million other sheep before you finally feel warm. You all have social consciences because you're zeros as individuals. Your compassion for others is ironically founded on your own self-hatred. You swim with "the movement" because you're lost on your own.
I don't care about your precious personal lifestyle choices. I really don't. And your entire dingbat philosophy, the whole tectonic plate upon which San Francisco rests, is based on the false presumption that people such as me are somehow upset about the manner in which you flap your genitals around. Egads.
It isn't what you do, it's the way you do it. Not the meat, but rather the motion. It's not what you're saying, it's your lousy voice. It isn't your private cock-slurping, it's your public megaphone-mouth. It ain't how you move beneath the sheets, it's the way you wave the picket signs around. The problem isn't your self-consciously "decadent" personal lifestyle, it's your warped social instincts.
It has nothing to do with the widespread sidewalk displays of ass-rimming...or the women who look like Lou Costello...or even the concept of white people who hate the concept of white people. In fact, those are some of the things I LIKE about SF. It's the attitude. The vantage point. Cloistered in a cultural...