I Got Your New York Rules Right Here

A national lockdown sucks, but it’s the hard choice that will lead to the best outcome

The vast majority of Americans don’t know the name Bret Stephens, but most Republicans do. He speaks their language: selfishness. Stephens is a conservative op-ed writer for The New York Times and his recent column titled “America Shouldn’t Have To Play By New York Rules” was written for comfortable right-wing suburbanites who don’t want to make sacrifices for the common good.

The article’s thesis was a simple thought experiment: what if New York City wasn’t part of America? What if the pandemic was NYC’s problem and not the USA’s problem? What if New York continues to battle the coronavirus while the rest of us head off to brunch and the beach? Let them stay at home while we do what we want.

Oh, wow, What if? The thesis of my little article is even simpler: fuck you, Bret Stephens.

His column is a love letter to conservatives frustrated because the greatest city in the world is trying to do what’s best for its community, not what’s best for America’s C-suite executives. But don’t follow our lead, America. You’re probably safe because recreational epidemiologist and thinking man’s thinking man Bret Stephens says so.

That fucking guy.

Bret Stephens is about my age. He’s a Pulitzer-prize-winning journalist and I’m a blogger. I don’t have his bona fides. I don’t have his pedigree. I went to a state school. But I have the certainty that he is a worm, and I am not. He’s also a thin-skinned narc: Bret famously quit Twitter after emailing the boss of a man who made fun of him publicly.

I am not an intellectual like many of Bret’s colleagues on the “dark web” which I’m pretty sure is a private Facebook group of Ivy League overachievers who ask hard questions like “What if white people are right about everything?”.

These are the sort of snobs who never shut up about their economic theories. Do you know how much of a privileged little dork you have to be to have an economic theory? I have an economic theory: pay me a fair wage, asshole.

I’ve never met Bret, but, in a way, I have met him. I’ve been to a few New York media cocktail parties. He’s the sort of guy who’d said, “but I’m Bret Stephens of The New York Times” if a sushi restaurant bungled his reservation back when sushi restaurants existed. I would bet my credit card debt that he’s the kind of man who never shows his teeth when he laughs. When he stoops to attend a ballgame, his claps make no sound. And when he writes, he isn’t writing for the people who live in the city his employer is named after. He’s writing mostly to soothe the economic anxieties of well-fed suburbanites who clip their toenails in the hot tub.

I’m sure Bret wants to think that some grizzled old farmer reads his column over a cup of Joe and a plate of grits, but the truth is men like Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell of Kentucky is his primary audience —a man who is refusing to bail out so-called ‘blue states’ like New York. Senator McConnell is a soft-spoken multi-millionaire whose wife works for the President of the United States. He represents the interests of other soft-spoken multimillionaires while pretending to represent a needy state that cannot function without federal tax dollars.

Do you know what New York’s rules were on 9/11? The same as they are now: keep your cool, check on your neighbor, we’re all in this together.

There has been tension between the city and the country since the founding of the country. Personally, I find it to be a tiresome performance. And not much has changed: during colonial times, you had rich slave owners like Thomas Jefferson masquerade as honest peasants, and nowadays, you have Sean Hannity. At least Jefferson could write.

Republicans loved New York City when it was attacked on 9/11. I remember that. The burning towers remain their favorite political prop. Do you know what New York’s rules were on 9/11? The same as they are now: keep your cool, check on your neighbor, we’re all in this together.

My favorite part of his article is a line where Bret reveals the fruits of his research assistant's efforts: did you know there’s a part of Queens called Corona and that the coronavirus outbreak is especially bad there? Bret, if you’re the champion of the working stiff, you’d know more about Queens, but you aren’t, right? You do know that? You’re a spoiled little prince who will be useless when the time comes to rebuild this city. Just utterly effing useless.

I am writing this rambling screed from Harlem. (That’s a neighborhood in Manhattan, Bret.) My third-floor window looks directly at the elevated 1 train track, and for the past six weeks, I’ve watched nearly empty ghost trains roll back and forth, hour after hour. At first, I thought it was depressing, but then I realized: that’s the train I take to my favorite soup dumpling place. The only reason I’m not on that train is that I’ve made a personal decision to stay the fuck inside so I don’t infect others. I’m a New Yorker. I love this city, and I don’t expect it to love me back. Hey, that’s love. New York has taught me some tough lessons, but one of them is no one owes you shit.

That may sound selfish, but it isn’t selfish. Do you know what’s selfish? Writing an op-ed for the country’s widest-read newspaper about how America should ignore what’s happening in New York City. That’s selfish.

It’s not easy watching all the businesses shut down forever on my street. My favorite thing in the world is to go to Broadway shows. Will I ever do that again? The best Mexican restaurant is in Corona, Bret. You should order the cabrito. Oh, wait, you can’t because they’re closed. Also, you’ve never really been to Queens, have you?

I haven’t even gotten to the human cost of this pandemic which, Bret, could have been mitigated had Republicans in power taken it seriously when they were initially warned. But there’s nothing a conservative loves more than a missed opportunity to help people who are different from them. But fair is fair: Did Cuomo and Di Blasio do a great job handling the outbreak at first? Hell, no. Fuck those guys. I’m keeping an eye on them, and you, Bret. And the president, a hometown boy who grew up to be a real historic loser.

I’ve lost close friends to the coronavirus, Bret. I wouldn’t wish the past few weeks on my worst enemy. I don’t want America to suffer like millions of New Yorkers, and that’s the point, isn’t it? While it may suck to endure these lockdowns in places where the infection hasn’t killed thousands of people, these stringent — and insane — measures are absolutely saving lives.

I understand the economic peril this country is in. I’d say about half my friends and family are unemployed or underemployed right now. I’m scared of the future. But here’s the thing, Bret. I think most Americans are following New York rules. They’re doing what must be done and nothing more. And feeding and caring for other Americans is what must be done.

I don’t know why America has to play by Bret Stephens’ champagne rules, which as far as I can tell is ‘every man for himself.’

Nobody likes to be on lockdown. But you know what? Nobody liked Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941. I guess the Imperial Japanese did. I am corrected. My point is: nobody asks for adversity but whining about it does not save lives.

I don’t know why America has to play by Bret Stephens’ champagne rules, which, as far as I can tell, is “every man for himself.” That rule might work in a society numbed by mindless consumption but not during wartime. And we’re at war. Not with China or Iran. We’re at war with a virus that doesn’t really care if it’s attacking Democratic or Republican lungs.

I am close friends with my partner’s family in Montana. My own family lives in Texas. Except for my brother, who lives in the mountains of Virginia. A friend of mine who’s an ER nurse in Missouri has been keeping tabs on me. These people worry about me, and I worry about them. Those are New York rules.

Here’s another rule: New Yorkers complain. We complain about the subways and the weather and the upstairs neighbor who plays the cello Sunday mornings. Before the lockdown, I complained to my girlfriend about how stingy the deli guy was with the hot peppers on my roast beef and mozzarella sandwich. But I don’t know a New Yorker who complains when the lives of their loved ones are on the line. We don’t bitch and moan when it’s all hands on deck.

These lockdown protests in Michigan, and Ohio, and Texas? These are just people complaining because the times are tough. I’ve watched video footage of these “real Americans” wearing body armor and carrying rifles opposing expert advice that the only way to slow the virus without a vaccine is to stay inside and give up crowding into ice cream parlors for a few more months.

These patriot actors play-fighting to “liberate” their states from reason and responsibility are on a mission to scare people. They really have no nuanced arguments to make. The message is: “There are more important things than living.” Those important things are, among other things, the management and performance fees of hedge fund managers. That’s it. These protests are performance art created by well-groomed brainiacs in Washington D.C. who have economic theories.

The country doesn’t have time to indulge in these histrionics. And yet, we must or these fruitcakes will burn down the country.

Meanwhile, I live in the epicenter of a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic. I do not want it to spread any more than it already has to Michigan or Ohio or Texas. So stay inside until the smart money says it’s okay to change your behavior. Check-in on friends. Help others. Call your representatives and tell them to treat the most vulnerable voter as if they were a corporation, just this once.

I’m going to continue doing what I’m doing, which is doing the best I can. New York City is where the best from all over the world come to test themselves. It’s a city full of dreamers from far away, like Indiana. We welcome the misfits and invite them to struggle.

The men and women Bret Stephens shamelessly flatter in his opinion pieces do not have the imagination or spine to do what must be done, which is moving forward. They can’t put their back into this great work because they have no spine.

This country is going to need innovators and hard-workers, and survivors. New York City manufactures them. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but it will be a different world. Maybe it will be a kinder world. I have hope because you gotta have hope. Anyone who’s arrived in New York City with a suitcase full of “I’m gonna make it” knows that’s true. America is going to recover. New York City will roar back to life. It may take a little while. It won’t be easy. There is still suffering to be had. But New York City will do what New York City has always done. Grow, despite the pain.

Anyway, I got your New York rules right here.