There are only four living descendants of Adolf Hitler in this world. Do you know where they all live? Long Island, according to a UK newspaper, the Telegraph. Is this mere coincidence, or are more sinister forces at work?
There is one simple and fundamental truth: Long Island is the fifth ring of hell.
There, I said it. And although I may be almost blatantly plagiarizing the classic 1994 film The Ref (Connecticut can be reduced to the “third ring”), I think it’s still a bit of an understatement.
Long Island, known to pretty much anyone except those that live there as a fetid wasteland, is a particularly tragic case, for a number of reasons.
It was the ancient Greek sophist Protagoras who said that “Man is the measure of all things.” Although I am completely and unapologetically pillaging this phrase not for its philosophical value, but for its nominal (if somewhat rudimentary) cachet, it rings true in the case of the vacuous, soul-robbing black hole of the earth that is Long Island.
If any place on the earth was measured in quality by the people who call it home, then perhaps the only place that would surpass Long Island in the infamy department is whatever hole in the ground currently occupied by the senior members of the Al Qaeda terrorist network.
Am I being too harsh on Long Island? Possibly; after all, I do know a few decent people who were either born there or live there presently. However, by the sheer percentages, the badness quotient on Long Island makes it by far the most spiritually debilitating mound of mud that our generation will ever know.
Consider an experience I underwent last weekend. I was sitting in one of my friend’s room; he happens to be from Long Island, and everyone else in the room except for me was also from Long Island. Although my home is only separated from their home by not much more than the inappropriately named Long Island Sound, the sense I got of being a stranger in a strange land while in that room was terrifying. I spent my time — in between mentions of their vacation spots in the Hamptons and Montauk — planning how I could escape as soon as possible and get into a shower to wash off the stench of mindless materialism that had corrupted me.
So, if you’re from Long Island and actually think of yourself as a decent person, you’re either dead wrong or an exception to my vast, overreaching generalization. But you could probably count yourself lucky regardless; you could be from New Jersey.
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