Are you a looter or a producer...or just a parasite?

Here's the quick background; A man named Mr. Ahadzi was somehow convinced to let #Occupy Rape Street use his home for a publicity stunt last December. The basic idea was that members of ORS would take over Mr. Ahadzi's house while he was negotiating foreclosure with his bank. ORS planned, with the help of Democratic councilman Charles Barron, to find a homeless family to move into the house. Presumably they hoped this stunt would would put banks on the defensive by creating a miniature anecdote that they could then exploit for some sort of political gain. Well, the actual result was pretty much as expected for anyone who has been following ORS; They completely gutted and destroyed everything (including literally the kitchen sink), so now nobody can live there. Isn't this pretty much how liberalism works? They claim some vague noble cause as a smokescreen for their parasitic looting of everything good and decent in society.

Anyway, a world in which liberals have a free run on things can be summed up pretty succinctly with the lyrics of "Mile End" by Pulp. It's a good song, itunes it:

We didn't have no where to live, / we didn't have nowhere to go
'til someone said / "I know this place off Burditt Road."
It was on the fifteenth floor, / it had a board across the door.
It took an hour / to pry it off and get inside. / It smelt as if someone had died;
the living-room was full of flies, / the kitchen sink was blocked,
the bathroom sink not there at all. / Ooh, / it's a mess alright, / yes it's
Mile End. / And now we're living in the sky! / I'd never thought I'd live so
high, / just like Heaven / (if it didn't look like Hell.)
The lift is always full of piss, / the fifth floor landing smells of fish
(not just on Friday, / every single other day.)
Below the kids come out tonight, / they kick a ball and have a fight
and maybe shoot somebody if they lose at pool.
Ooh, / it's a mess alright, / yes it's / Mile End.
Oo-ooh / Nobody wants to be your friend
'cause you're not from round here, / ooh / as if that was
something to be proud about. / The pearly king of the Isle of Dogs
feels up children in the bogs. / Down by the playing fields,
someone sets a car on fire I guess you have to go right down
before you understand just how, / how low,
how low a human being can go. / Ooh, / it's a mess alright, / yes it's
Mile End. / (don't do that! Leave it out!)