Is a phrase I'm coining. The inspiration comes from last weekend.Last weekend, I was on my way home from the "cultural center" of the city, an area filled with drunken youth, empty bottles, dirty Asian and Turkish food shops and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. The walls, which shook to the beat of some hip hop track, were covered with graffiti and left-wing propaganda stickers...
I walked a little further and saw a jazz club and a gay bar. In the window of the jazz club, I could see several scantily-clad women shaking their bodies to some Latino beat, much to the delight of the men standing around them. The girls were thrilling; they wanted to dance, sip their apple tinis and score free drinks from the guys. The guys were eyeing up the girls creepily; clearly, they were hoping to break up the "women's night out" and score some sex. The next day, regardless what happened, the girls would be gone. And soon enough, they'd be at another bar, doing the same thing before another group of men. I had seen it all before. It seemed so pointless. Needless to say, I did not have the stomach to peer into the gay bar. I had seen enough to make myself sick. I turned the block.
As I moved on, I passed an African hair supplies and crafts shop. A girl walked by me, her face all done up and her straight blond hair shining under the city lights. Her nose was in the air. She barely fit in her jeans, and her ass shook as she walked. To me, she looked more like a "J-Lo wanna-be" whore than anything I would want to get to know better. I turned to look as she passed by, shaking my head in disgust. A group of guys saw me. They got the wrong impression. "Oh, you dog you!" they teased. I smiled. I did not know what else to do.
The group was headed straight for what I had just walked out of, and I actually felt sorry for them. They were happy and drunk and looking for more fun. But I knew they were not going to find anything worthwhile...just bad music, overpriced drinks, foreign-stuff and the kind of girls who enjoy that sort of thing. Well, at least they had camaraderie.
At that very moment, I looked up to see an angry-looking, "hard rock" kind of guy stumble by. He was alone and drunk. I could tell what he had gone into the city to find. Alas, it was the same thing I had been looking for. But the night had been shit - no decent women out there, no good music, no real culture.
My eye caught sight of one of many posters on the wall advertising upcoming rap concerts and night club events. That's when it hit me: this was a wasteland. I was in a major city that was once known for its old art and culture. But there was nothing unique here anymore. In fact, I could have been anywhere in the world in any "night life district" and I would not have noticed the difference. And so, it became clear to me that this plastic Disney world of smog, degeneracy and predictability was multicultural globalism, the reality of the universalist dream. It was not colorful, it was grey; it was not liberating, it was a sham. It was all of these things and more. It was Mickey Mouse Marxism - the worst of capitalism and the worst of Marxism. A liberationist's dream turned into a mass-produced fraud. A nightmare.
