Apartheid at Pete’s Candy Store #noapartheidnyc
A daily New York music blog owner walks into Pete’s Candy Store Friday night, trailing a gaggle of expensively dressed girls. They stop in the entryway. Apparently there’s a doorman, an unexpected development at a place where “anyone can get in,” as one patron chuckles about a half hour later.
Except that not anyone can get in. Blog owner moves slowly past the line, only to be motioned aside by the door person. He’s short and fat and speaks in the high, insecure voice of the unsure thirteen-year-old that he pretty much still is after all these years. “Doing ‘vaccine’ check,” he quavers.
Blog owner is stumped. This is a first.
On one level, there’s incredible comfort in being part of a community of people who long ago figured out that the official Covid narrative was just a scam engineered to turn the world into an Orwellian nightmare. But in a society increasingly polarized between Covid fantasyland and reality, reality sometimes feels like living in a bubble.
And you know Klaus Schwab and his fellow terrorists are salivating over that polarization, this incident being just one small example.
Klaus, you are going to lose this war, even if your sympathizers won this particular battle.
Things get ugly fast. Blog owner sizes up the situation and decides to try kindness. That’s always the optimal choice. He smiles at the door guy, whose pudgy features are obscured behind a black muzzle so big it reaches up to his eyes. “I figured this place is friendly,” blog owner says with a wink and moves slowly toward the back room where a talented acoustic songwriter is scheduled to take the stage.
Pudge at the door is adamant. With the music and the crowd in the front, it’s next to impossible to hear him behind his muzzle. He says something like “I can’t let you in.”
At that point, blog owner snaps. “You’re in violation of the 1964 Federal Civil Rights Act,” he snarls. “Discrimination is against the law. You’re breaking the law. I can have you arrested and I can sue you.” All true.
Pudge is viscerally frightened. He’s as unprepared for this confrontation as blog owner is at having to assert himself so forcefully. Blog owner waves him away and moves to the back room.
Soundcheck takes forever. The mix is atrocious: it’s all guitar, and the act onstage is known for vocals and lyrics. Ten minutes go by fast.
Suddenly the bartender, a tough-talking Brooklyn Italian girl, appears. As it turns out, Pudge has not been totally intimidated: he snitched on blog owner before fleeing the scene. He is nowhere to be found in the bar after this point, despite the fact that people are traipsing in and out.
Bartender is next in line to try to throw blog owner out. Blog owner stands his ground until the chatty crowd realize there’s a dispute, quiets down and begins to listen in. Meanwhile, the songwriter has begun to play. Not wanting to disturb the music, blog owner gets up and follows the bartender to the space between the music room and the outer bar.
There’s no reasoning with her. She pulls the old Adolf Eichmann routine: “Just doing my job, and you’re preventing me from waiting on my customers.”
“I’m not preventing you from doing anything! Go wait on your customers and I’ll go back to hear the music,” encourages blog owner.
In seconds, two very drunk girls, as well as a very drunk and violent guy get involved in the conversation and gang up on blog owner. In various ways, as inarticulately as you would expect under the circumstances, they make one thing clear: all of them insist that rules must be obeyed, no matter how nonsensical or absurd. No exceptions. The bartender is just doing her job, never mind violation of Federal statute, or just plain common sense.
But ultimately it’s not blog owner’s refusal to follow the rules that’s incensed them. It’s jealousy. After all, they all had to submit to the “vaccine” check. If they have to be surveilled, dammit, the whole world has to be surveilled too! Otherwise it’s not fair!
Blog owner has also made the crucial mistake of asserting that he has not taken any of the various lethal injections being promoted by the World Economic Forum and their puppets like Bill DiBozo. That further infuriates the various onlookers, who have backed blog owner into a corner. A girl tries to start a fight, hoping for a slap on the middle finger that she sticks within an inch of blog owner’s nose.
He doesn’t fall for it. And he’s not easily intimidated. He doesn’t have his college muscle anymore, but he’s solidly built. I could handle anybody in this room, he decides.
The drunkest of the bunch, a tall, skinny guy with a British accent, decides to escalate the situation. Lurching forward, he takes a wild swing at blog owner. Who ducks. Drunk guy’s fist smashes into the wall, bones snap, blood flows. Howling in pain and gasping, he stumbles backward. He’s going to need surgery. Blog owner shakes his head in disgust and walks away.
Actually, that’s not what happened. Although it almost did.
At that second, drunk guy’s slightly less drunken pal motions drunk guy away and interjects himself into the conversation. He’s South Asian, also speaks in a British accent, and seems smarter than the rest of the crowd. Trouble is, he also has no idea what constitutes a place of public accommodation – a phrase that took too many syllables to articulate before the slurs and invective of the various onlookers started raining down. He and the rest of the drunks have no awareness that a club is bound by Federal anti-discrimination law. Blog owner’s adversaries all insist that bars can turn away anyone for any reason.
Meanwhile, bartender wants no part of this conversation and threatens to call the cops. “Go ahead and call the cops,” blog owner says calmly. “You’re the one who’s breaking the law.”
As it turns out, she doesn’t call the cops. Drunk guy’s South Asian bud plies blog owner with questions. He’s convinced that blog owner came out looking to stir up trouble instead of taking in a quiet evening with some live music. At this point, the confrontation seems to have de-escalated, although the hostility picks up when South Asian guy’s extremely trashed girlfriend gets involved. Reason does not work on her. She’s a true believer. She had Covid, she says – and then she took one of the deadly needles.
Same with the manager, the latest in the parade enlisted to throw blog owner out of the bar. Blog owner tries reason first. Manager is gay: blog owner, sensing an opening, explains the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to her, and how businesses can’t discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation, or gender, just for starters. She seems attentive. Blog owner reinforces that by threatening legal action and a tort case. He gets her name.
Why the apartheid door policy, which none of the other bars on the block have? She has a muzzle on, she’s hard to understand, and evasive. Something about August 16, something about being “progressive.”
By now, half an hour has gone by. Any hope of seeing the rest of the show is fading fast, as is any hope of a creating a teachable moment. These people have all been brainwashed. South Asian guy wants to go out for a smoke; blog owner doesn’t smoke but decides that it’s time to stop wasting any more breath on a bunch of drunks who would probably be just as unreachable if they were sober.
It doesn’t end there. The dialogue outside continues in a civil tone. South Asian guy makes a startling admission: he says that medical “passports” are wrong, and he thinks that the decision to take the kill shot should be up to the individual. But the cognitive dissonance is just as startling: he has the medical “passport” and he’s taken the shot. Very drunk guy makes a final appearance: South Asian guy has to pull his snorting, irate buddy away again.
The girlfriend also gets into it: “I hope you fucking die of Covid!” she screams.
“I can’t,” blog owner grins. “It’s extinct.”
So there you have it. Pete’s Candy Store, which earned a place in Williamsburg history a long time ago, now practices apartheid – and, by requiring that customers take the kill shot to get in, is essentially complicit in murder. Forty-five thousand Americans dead already, and we haven’t even hit cold and flu season. What a tragic and shameful end for a storied Brooklyn venue.
If any among you practice civil rights law and feel like taking the case, this blog’s owner has the rest of the details.