NRO seems to be another site that deliberately has set out to ruin
its previously functional format  -for reasons unknown except to  say
that visual illiteracy is a virtue for a certain class of the  literati.
Graphics considerations? Who needs to worry about graphics
when you can spoil your content with bad graphics?
 
Anyway, if you don't need to copy and paste,  the article has a nice  enough
format. And the article is very, very good.
 
The trouble is that it does not explain, not nearly, why 2/3rds of the  
population
of the state votes Democratic.
 
BR
 
----------------------------------------
 
 
NRO

 
 
It's Still a Mad, Mad California
 
 
by VICTOR DAVIS HANSON January 3, 2017 
 
 
Coastal elites set rules for others, exempt themselves, and tolerate  
rampant lawlessness from illegal aliens. One reason for the emergence of  
outsider Donald Trump is the old outrage that elites seldom experience the  
consequences of their own ideologically driven agendas. 
 
Hypocrisy, when coupled with sanctimoniousness, grates people like few  
other human transgressions: Barack Obama opposing charter schools for the inner 
 city as he puts his own children in Washington’s toniest prep schools, or 
Bay  Area greens suing to stop contracted irrigation water from Sierra 
reservoirs,  even as they count on the Yosemite’s Hetch Hetchy project to 
deliver 
 crystal-clear mountain water to their San Francisco taps. The American  
progressive elite relies on its influence, education, money, and cultural  
privilege to exempt itself from the bad schools, unassimilated immigrant  
communities, dangerous neighborhoods, crime waves, and general impoverishment  
that are so often the logical consequences of its own policies — consequences  
for others, that is. 
 
Abstract idealism on behalf of the distant is a powerful psychological  
narcotic that allows caring progressives to dull the guilt they feel about 
their  own privilege and riches. Nowhere is this paradox truer than in 
California, a  dysfunctional natural paradise in which a group of coastal and 
governing  magnificoes virtue-signal from the world’s most exclusive and 
beautiful  
enclaves. 
 
The state is currently experiencing another perfect storm of increased  
crime, decreased incarceration, still ongoing illegal immigration, and record  
poverty. All that is energized by a strapped middle class that is still 
fleeing  the overregulated and overtaxed state, while the arriving poor take 
their places  in hopes of generous entitlements, jobs servicing the elite, and 
government  employment.
 
Pebble Beach or La Jolla is as far from Madera or Mendota as Mars is from  
Earth. The elite coastal strip appreciates California’s bifurcated two-class 
 reality, at least in the way that the lords of the Middle Ages treasured 
their  era’s fossilized divisions. Manoralism ensured that peasants remained 
obedient,  dependent, and useful serfs; meanwhile, the masters praised their 
supposedly  enlightened feudal system even as they sought exemptions for 
their sins from the  medieval Church. And without a middle class, the masters 
had no fear that  uncouth others would want their own scaled-down versions 
of castles and moats. 
 
Go to a U-Haul trailer franchise in the state. The rental-trailer-return  
rates of going into California are a fraction of those going out. Surely 
never  in civilization’s history have so many been so willing to leave a 
natural 
 paradise. Yet collate that fact with the skyrocketing cost of high-demand  
housing along a 400-mile coastal corridor. The apparent paradox is no 
paradox:  Frustrated Californians of the interior of the state without money 
and 
who  cannot afford to move to the coastal communities of Santa Monica or 
Santa  Barbara (the entire middle class of the non-coast) are leaving for 
low-tax  refuges out of state — in “if I cannot afford the coast, then on to 
Idaho”  fashion. 
 
The state’s economy and housing are moribund in places like Stockton and  
Tulare, the stagnation being the logical result of the policies of the 
governing  class that would never live there. Meanwhile, the coastal creed is 
that 
 Facebook, Apple, Hollywood, and Stanford will virtually feed us, 3-D print 
our  gas, or discover apps to provide wood and stone for our homes. 
 
Crime rates are going up again in California, sometimes dramatically so.  
In Los Angeles, various sorts of robberies, assaults, and homicide rose 
between  5 and 10 percent over 2015; since 2014, violent crime has skyrocketed 
by 
38  percent. This May, California’s association of police chiefs complained 
that  since the passage of Proposition 47 — which reclassified supposedly “
nonserious”  crimes as misdemeanors and kept hundreds of thousands of 
convicted  criminals out of jail — crime rates in population centers of more 
than 
100,000  have increased more than 15 percent. California governor Jerry 
Brown has let out  more parolees — including over 2,000 serving life sentences —
 than any recent  governor. 
 
How does that translate to the streets far distant from Brentwood or  
Atherton? Let me narrate a recent two-week period in navigating the outlands of 
 
Fresno County. A few days ago my neighbor down the road asked whether I had 
put  any outgoing mail in our town’s drive-by blue federal mailbox, adjacent 
to the  downtown Post Office. I had. And he had, too —to have it delivered 
a few hours  later to his home in scraps, with the checks missing, by a good 
Samaritan. She  had collected the torn envelopes with his return address 
scattered along the  street. I’m still waiting to see whether my own bills got 
collected before the  thieves struck the box. 
 
Most of us in rural California go into town to mail our letters, because  
our rural boxes have been vandalized by gangs so frequently that it is 
suicidal  to mail anything from home. Most of us in rural California go into 
town 
to mail  our letters, because our rural boxes have been vandalized by gangs 
so  frequently that it is suicidal to mail anything from home. (Many of us 
now  have armored, bullet-proof locked boxes for incoming mail). On the same 
day last  week, when I was driving outside our farm, I saw a commercial van 
stopped on the  side of the road on the family property, with the logo of a 
furniture- and  carpet-cleaner company emblazoned on the side. The driver 
was methodically  pumping out the day’s effluvia into the orchard. When I 
approached him, he  assured me in broken English that there was “no problem — 
all organic.” When I  insisted he stop the pumping, given that the waste 
water smelled of solvents, he  politely replied, “Okay, already, I’m almost 
done.” When it looked as if things  might further deteriorate, the nice-enough 
polluter agreed to stop. 
 
In the interior of green California, it is considered rude or worse to  ask 
otherwise pleasant people not to pump out their solvent water on the side 
of  the road. Down the road, I saw the morning’s new trash littered on the 
roadway —  open bags of diapers and junk mail. Apparently California’s new 
postmodern law  barring incorrect plastic grocery bags (and indeed barring 
free paper grocery  bags) has not yet cleaned up our premodern roadsides.
 
 Remember: California knows it dare not enforce laws against  
trash-throwing in rural California; that’s too politically incorrect and would  
be 
impossible to enforce anyway. Instead, it charges shoppers for their bags. In  
California, the neglect of the felony requires the rigid prosecution of the  
misdemeanor. I was in my truck — and suddenly I felt blessed that I was lucky  
enough to have it. Last summer it was stolen from a restaurant parking lot 
in  Fresno when my son borrowed it to go to dinner. The truck was found four 
days  later, still operable but with the ignition console torn apart and 
the interior  ruined, amid the stench of trash, marijuana butts, beer bottles, 
waste, and  paper plates still full of stale rice.   
 
During this same recent 14-day period, my wife stopped at her office  condo 
in Fresno to print out a document. She left the garage door open to the  
driveway for ten minutes. Ten minutes is a lifetime in the calculus of  
California thievery. Her relatively new hybrid bicycle was immediately stolen 
by  
a fleet-footed thief. I noted to her that recent parolees often walk around 
the  streets until they can afford to buy or manage to steal a car — and 
therefore  for a time like bikes like hers. That same week, her bank notified 
her that her  credit card was canceled — after numerous charges at fast-food 
franchises showed  up in Texas. Cardinal rule in California: Be careful in 
paying for anything with  a credit card, because the number is often stolen 
and sold off.  Cardinal  rule in California: Be careful in paying for 
anything with a credit card,  because the number is often stolen and sold off. 
I 
thought things had been  getting better until these awful two weeks. 
 
One-third of a mile down my rural street, in the last 24 months, at least  
the swat team crashed a drug/prostitution/fencing operation hidden in a  
persimmon orchard. The house across the street from that operation was later  
surrounded by law enforcement to root out gang members. Forest fires started 
by  undocumented-alien pot growers were down in the nearby Sierra. I hadn’t 
lost  copper wire from a pump in two years. I once also thought the proof of 
American  civilization was predicated on three assumptions: One could 
confidently mail a  letter in a federal postal box on the street; one in 
extremis 
could find safe,  excellent care in an emergency room; and one could visit 
a local DMV office to  easily clear up a state error.  None are any longer 
true. 
 
I’ll never put another letter in a U.S. postal box, unless I’m in places  
like Carmel or Atherton that are in the Other California. Two years ago, I 
was  delivered by ambulance to a local emergency room after a severe bike 
accident;  on fully waking up, I saw a uniformed police officer standing next 
to my bed to  protect fellow ER patients from the patient in the next cubicle 
— a felon who  had punched his fist through a car window in a failed 
burglary attempt and who  was now being visited by his gang-member relatives. 
 
Not long ago, the DMV did not send me the necessary license sticker.  
Online reservations were booked up. So I made the mistake of visiting the local 
 
regional office without an appointment, where I first got my license 47 
years  ago — the office then was a model of efficiency and professionalism. A  
half-century later, a line hundreds of feet long snaked out the door. The 
office  is designated as a DMV center for licensing illegal aliens. The entire 
office,  in the linguistic and operational sense, is recalibrated to assist 
those who are  here illegally and to make it difficult if not impossible for 
citizens to use it  as we did in the past. After 20 minutes, when the line 
had hardly moved, I left.  What makes the law-abiding leave California is 
not just the sanctimoniousness,  the high taxes, or the criminality. It is 
always the insult added to injury. 
 
We suffer not only from the highest basket of income, sales, and gas  taxes 
in the nation, but also from nearly the worst schools and infrastructure.  
We have the costliest entitlements and the most entitled. We have the 
largest  number of billionaires and the largest number of impoverished, both in 
real  numbers and as a percentage of the state population. California crime 
likewise  reflects the California paradox of two states: a coastal elite and 
everyone  else. California is the most contentious, overregulated, and 
postmodern state in  the Union, and also the most feral and 19th-century. 
 
On my rural street are two residences not far apart. In one, shacks dot  
the lot. There are dozens of port-a-potties, wrecked cars, and unlicensed and  
unvaccinated dogs — all untouched by the huge tentacles of the state’s  
regulatory octopus. Nearby, another owner is being regulated to death, as he  
tries to rebuild a small burned house: His well, after 30 years, is suddenly 
 discovered by the state to be in violation, under a new regulation 
governing the  allowed distance between his well and his leach line; so he 
drills 
another  costly well. Then his neighbor’s agricultural well is suddenly 
discovered by the  state regulators to be too close as well, so he breaks up 
sections of his  expensive new leach line. After a new septic system was built 
by a licensed  contractor and a new well was drilled by a licensed 
well-driller, he has after a  year — $40,000 poorer — still not been permitted 
to 
even start to rebuild his  900-square-foot house. 
 
>From her nest in Rancho Mirage, a desert oasis created by costly water  
transfers, outgoing senator Barbara Boxer rails about water transfers. In the  
former case, the owner of port-a-potties and shacks clearly cannot pay and  
belongs to an exempt class of the Other. The latter owner is a rare 
law-abiding  Californian, and so he has a regulatory target on his back — 
because he 
is  someone of the vanishing middle class who can and will do and pay as 
ordered. He  is an endangered species whose revenue-raising torment is 
necessary to exempt  others from the same ordeal. 
 
In feral California, we suffer not just from too many and too few  
applications of the law, but from the unequal enforcement of it. When the state 
 has 
one-fourth of its population born in another country, dozens of sanctuary  
cities exempt from federal law, and millions residing here illegally, it 
makes  politicized cost-benefit choices. Feral California out here is a  
live-and-let-live place, a libertarian’s dream (or nightmare). The staggering  
costs for its illegality are made up by the shrinking few who nod as they 
always  have and follow the law in all its now-scary manifestations. 
 
 
The  rich on the coast tune out. From her nest in Rancho Mirage, a desert 
oasis  created by costly water transfers, outgoing senator Barbara Boxer 
rails about  water transfers. When Jerry Brown leaves his governorship, he will 
not live in  Bakersfield but probably in hip Grass Valley. High crime, the 
flight of small  businesses, and water shortages cannot bound the fences of 
Nancy Pelosi’s  Palladian villa or the security barriers and walls of Mark 
Zuckerberg and other  Silicon Valley billionaires — who press for more 
regulation, and for more  compassion for the oppressed, but always from a 
distance 
and always from the  medieval assumption that their money and privilege 
exempt them from the  consequences of their idealism. There is no such thing as 
an open border for a  neighbor of Mr. Zuckerberg or of Ms. Pelosi. A final 
window into the California  pathology: Most of the most strident Californians 
who decry Trump’s various  proposed walls insist on them for their own 
residences.

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