New York is the only place I ever felt at home.  The red brick buildings, brownstones, statues, stores with the roll-up doors over a hundred years old were like one big painting.  The East River and the Hudson served as frames.  New Yorkers — bold, boasting, brilliant — covered the metropolitan coated canvas, the finest Alla Prima.

Home in New York, from day one, was an expensive place to be.  Positioning oneself on the coveted canvas required paying legendary rent and expending constant energy.  But the city itself gave its residents, us Alla Primas, the best return on investment there is — the city forces you to live in the present.  And if you stray into the mental crevasses of a grieving mind, the city will yell, honk, or otherwise bring you back to life.

And now, post–bail reform, everything has changed.  As with personal tragedy within family homes, moments of normalcy can seep in to temporarily camouflage the brokenness.  The city still feels like the city — in moments.  But random stabbings, punches, and theft are being committed by repeat offenders, the police are diminished in presence and power, and vacant storefronts have become brick-and-mortar corpses.  Homeless are unattended, violent, and worsening as time continues to pass without sufficient action.

Enter the migrants.  Each migrant, coming here (in blatant disregard of the legal channels), is greeted by state employees with a welcoming handshake and a look of admiration.  These migrant greetings are captured by local news and aired continuously.  In addition to an assembly-line format of receiving housing, clothes, a phone, the migrants get the gift of having their grievances known and broadcast throughout the news cycle.  The migrants do not want to live in Brooklyn — only Manhattan — made its way through a week's worth of coverage.  Commercials — poised and personable, pitch how New Yorkers should "open up their spare rooms and take in a migrant."

Since the migrants have the proverbial megaphone that reaches straight to the eyes and ears of the city officials, and factoring in how there have been no meaningful actions taken by the governor or mayor to restore the city to the level of safety it enjoyed during the Giuliani and Bloomberg years, maybe the migrants are the only hope for a successful campaign for public safety.  Perhaps, if New Yorkers made a formal request to the migrants, the migrants could then demand the much-needed increase in NYPD presence.  Perhaps pronto! The formal request from New Yorkers to the migrants would be presented with the rationale that we have interests in common, (in addition to real estate preferences).  No one wants to be stabbed, punched, robbed.  Maybe the migrants would petition the local officials to provide safety for them, and even for us American peasants.

The P.R. possibilities are endless — a ceremony at the United Nations where the migrants, perhaps dressed by Tom Ford (though he declined to dress Melania as first lady), could make a collective speech.  Following would be a singing of "This Is Your Land," led by Al Sharpton before the photo with President Biden, with arms extended and olfactory sensors in check.  Then, perhaps, New Yorkers can once again have their NYPD back on the previous level that resulted in personal safety, law, and order.

Image: Screen shot from ABC7 video via YouTube.