Friday, December 9th, 2016

Would you like fries with that protest?

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The New York Post’s Candace Giove spent the night in Zucotti Park with the Occupy Wall Street protestors. Her description of what she founds is another tragic reminder that in the debate between Hobbes and Rousseau about the state of nature, Hobbes always wins.

This spirit of generosity and the naivete of the original OWS protesters is devolving into a state of distrust and paranoia, however.

They speak of theft, about government infiltrators and tales of Rikers Island castoffs being dropped off to roam and ravage the site.

From underneath my blanket, I hear allegations of financial corruption and intimidation over sexual orientation.

“I’m in a tent that keeps getting flooded, ransacked and robbed,” fumes a transgender group leader — a female who identifies as a male.

He said that the transgender group would create its own police force for transgender protesters and females, since an immense distrust loomed over the OWS-created authority.

That group is also demanding financial transparency amid growing concern over the use of the $750,000 war chest.

They have a point. I notice supply-station cupboards are dangerously lacking any blankets, tents, tarps or Mylar.

“Someone forgot to get that stuff out of storage,” an attendant claimed.

Rape is now a daily occurrence in the anarchist paradise.

The threat of rape is very real here — for women and men.

Sitting in the McDonald’s just moments after Bezabeh was hauled off in cuffs, Lauren DiGioia, 26, tells me about how she became one of the growing number of victims on her very first night in the park.

“I was forced into a very tight space,” she says. “He kind of moved up against me.

“ ‘Oh, let me warm you up. It’s cold out here,’ ” the creep told her, she said. “He kept pursuing me, and he started becoming aroused, and I could tell that he was becoming aroused,” she said. “I just tried to shield myself.”

He allegedly groped her, pulled her and tried to get on top of her.

“I kept thinking to myself, ‘In the morning, I am going to get this guy arrested,’ but in the morning, he was gone,” she said.

DiGioia, who is from Clifton, NJ, was shocked to see her alleged attacker’s image in The Post about a week later — and she identified him to the police.

She is now offering counsel to other victims, as new ones crop up every day.

“I just talked to two gentlemen who were raped last night, and they don’t want to press charges because [authorities] wanted to take them in an ambulance and . . . do a rape kit,” she said.

She passed on their account to the security force, while encouraging them to press charges.

“There was another girl raped by the same man,” she said from a table in the McDonald’s, which has become the headquarters of the revolution.

It’s a place to meet, to get warm, to scarf down dollar-menu grub and to use the bathroom that becomes increasingly vile as the night goes on.

McDonald’s was once the favorite arson target of the left. Now it’s an island of civilization in the chaos. I wonder if the protestors see the irony that shelter under the Golden Arches is preferable to the society they created.

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