NEW YORK — So, how was your weekend?
I spent Saturday and Sunday evenings in a balcony seat for the mayhem staged by Antifa and other violent, far-Left radicals. My Manhattan neighborhood, the northwest East Village, just below Union Square, was Ground Zero for a weekend that featured some loud but peaceful protest, more helicopter sounds than the opening sequence of Apocalypse Now, and stomach-turning scenes of true bedlam and destruction.
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Alas, such pandemonium raged well beyond my block. In SoHo, looters picked stores clean, like hyenas eating zebras. Retail windows from Midtown to Brooklyn to the Bronx were shattered in an eerie echo of Kristallnacht. And, of course, such hate-fueled madness repeated itself, from Philadelphia (where America was born) to Washington, D.C. (where the Great Emancipator’s Lincoln Memorial and the anti-fascist World War II Memorial were defaced) to Santa Monica (where socialism meets the sea, and voracious mobs inflicted their own 100-percent-off sale).
Rarely heard amid all of this devastation: The name George Floyd.