You need to read the article for yourself — that is, if you know how to read. ... A few excerpts to get you warmed up...
“Superdive made a lot of us into activists,” a 58-year-old former social worker named Dale Goodson told Capitalnewyork.com, which offered a fascinating history of Superdive.
So, what brand of humanity is considered undignified to a guy who spends his days shepherding the underclass?
Frat boys. Solid men in Big Ten regalia. Business types who spent their college years learning about balance sheets instead of transgressive modes of self-actualization. To these, the East Village can be as intolerant as a monocle-wearing English aristocrat from a P.G. Wodehouse novel, gazing down upon the polloi and pronouncing them a little too hoi.
Community Board 3, at a meeting in which residents carried signs reading (really) “Not in my backyard,” last month opposed one businessman’s request for a liquor license at a new space to replace a former bar at 34 Avenue A — without even listening to his proposal. Silence a dissenting voice? Not very “Rent.”
Or maybe very “Rent” indeed. A bohemian’s idea of anarchy always seems to come with a surprisingly detailed set of standards. The story of the East Village might be how little things have changed — it’s still a cramped little hipster Vatican suspicious of outsiders.
But if your neighborhood is steeped in youthful rebellion, don’t be too outraged when free-spirited types come flocking around in a mad celebration of twentysomething exuberance. And don’t hate them just because their hero is Rex Ryan instead of Allen Ginsberg.