I’ve been in a bad neighborhood on the internet. Let’s just say that googling “habeas corpus” gets you there quickly. I shouldn’t have lingered to read that chat board. But I did. And I must report.
Among my fellow citizens there are those who believe the NEA funds Broadway musicals. To a New Yorker, this is like hearing that the earth is flat. But it appears that “art” is suspect, and “political art” should not be funded by the government—so we should cut all government funding to “Hamilton.” I had to pinch myself. (It is estimated that Broadway theaters pay a total of $500 million in taxes annually).
There is also the critique of Alexander Hamilton himself—that he was an elite New Yorker. (He was). But thank goodness for Andrew Jackson, who took him on. I enjoyed this ahistorical superhero battle existing on…what planet? Did Jackson perhaps teleport back in time?
It’s easy to mock out bad grammar and spelling—and I’m a terrible speller myself. But I have to say one remark really cracked me up. Someone posted to the satiric effect: if you were raised too poor to afford apostrophes, I’m glad to lend you some for free. I don’t know if this is original, but I found it very funny.
I’ve been in some nervous making situations in my life. A convenience store in survivalist country where everyone was heavily armed and in fatigues. A cafe with a motorcycle gang parked outside—with a hungry toddler and no place else to eat. The edge of the East Village at dusk 1969—a place I had been forbidden but was in anyway, in a mini skirt and of course no cell phone.
I know to get in and out fast. And try and not do it again.