One day the warm fuzzy street-cool feeling these cunt writers seek, will be provided by their own blood, as they drown in it, after being shot by a gangsta, irritated by nosey social tourism. There's no need for me to get involved- I'll save my ire.
When I lived in Beijing, the Chinese were busy pulling down all their shacks (the hutongs) and there was a song and a dance from all the tedious expats "Oh the heritage!" they moaned from their warm condominiums "Oh it's a part of history gone!" as the inhabitants of the hutongs were hoiked out of their damp freezing sheds and rehoused in tower blocks with indoor lavatories.