New to New York? Prepare to Master the Art of the Con!

Robber Barons Conquer NYC

There are people in this country who speak with accents unfamiliar to many. They hail from distant regions like Utah and the intriguingly named “Arizona.”

This doesn’t bother me at all, as I pride myself on being friendly and accommodating.

Leaving their humble grass huts, famished sheep, and solitary buffalo behind, they drift into the promised land — New York City.

Their tiny communities, familiar faces, affordable meals, rugged terrains, and subpar coffee are relics of the past. Now, it’s the land of liberty, home to the unscrupulous.

Our latest count reveals nearly 20 million people crammed into our metropolitan area. Yet, newcomers often come from towns with just 11 residents. We host more than that in a single men’s room.

We inhabit an expensive city. A heavily taxed city. A crowded city. A grimy city. Our subways are frightening. Housing prices are sky-high. We deal with congestion, crime, and entrepreneurial politicians. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

This so-called greatest place in the world has devolved into a kindergarten setting. New arrivals arrive with nothing, from backgrounds of desolation.

Even those already settled here, foreign transferees from strange locales like South Dakota and a place called Montana — this is where they gain their education.

Jump the turnstile. Steal a bike. Sue the city. Stick up a store. Snatch a handbag. Dine in a soup kitchen. Swipe a phone. Defy the city. Sleep on the sidewalk.

Use drugs. Smoke cannabis. Carry weapons, annoy neighbors, cycle the wrong way down a one-way street, attempt minor theft, engage in grand larceny, disrupt the peace, vandalize property, confront authority, skip out on rent, forge art, orchestrate protests, and commandeer a cop’s vehicle.

Harass and trespass, jump another subway turnstile, collect a paycheck without actually working, pilfer items from pharmacy shelves. Thrive in this nation without knowing English, or being able to read it, or understanding it.

Land in jail where at least it’s warm. Run for political office because no one cares if you’re a thief waiting to happen. Loiter about; the meaning may escape you.

New York City is like kindergarten. Spitting, urinating, panhandling, conning, stealing — all are permissible. The newcomers are mastering their skills.

Quick studies, they’re mimicking the career paths of certain politicians — it’s no trouble for them to grease palms as needed. It’s winter. Cold.

Eventually, once fully trained, they earn the warm regards of our DA Bragg (Dumb Ass) and are adorned with flowers, before becoming citizens of Florida.

Next stop: Palm Beach. After amassing enough wealth from pilfered goods, they head south. It’s always Florida. The land of alligators and snakes.

A newcomer’s dream now includes late dinners at 4:30, bidding on Crayola art, and driving for an aging widow who’s not quite ready to be “leftover” at certain hours — overtime is the name of the game.

Meanwhile in New York City, the greatest place on Earth, forget about the $90,000 tuition for college, plus extras like books and shared living expenses.

The real training: It’s us. We are the recruiters. Dismiss Yale, Harvard, NYU — we’re the practical training ground. Forget textbooks. Focus on understanding the art of thievery.

It’s a busy city, with a former mayor on trial and a former governor ousted. Yet, everyone comes here to learn. We are the kindergarten of life.

New York, New York. The Bronx rises while the politicians fall.