What’s wrong with New York State? Pull up a chair, this won’t take long.

First off, we’ve got more rules than a Catholic school cafeteria. Taxes? Confiscatory. Regulations? Smothering. And behind it all is the old boys’ network, greased by special interests from Buffalo to Montauk. Doesn’t matter if it’s a Democrat or Republican running the show—everyone’s making sure their slice of the pie is safely wrapped in tinfoil. The rare soul who dares to put public interest ahead of self-interest usually lasts about as long as a cannoli at a church picnic.

Then there’s the people. A whole state full of folks who think they’re entitled to something that isn’t theirs. And no, I’m not even talking about welfare. I’m talking about the “not in my backyard” brigade. The jealous neighbor who suddenly turns into Ralph Nader the minute you propose building anything within ten miles of their mailbox. Or the transplant from Brooklyn who “found their little slice of heaven” upstate and now wants to put a “Closed” sign on the county line. Never mind that their perfect farmhouse used to be a cornfield. Change for me? Fine. Change for thee? Absolutely not.

And God help you if you try to build something. You’ll run into setbacks, greenspace mandates, and enough forms to wallpaper the Empire State Building. Then the state piles on with regulations that cost tens of thousands and take years to process. By the time you get your permit, your grandkids are old enough to inherit the project.

Want an example of runaway spending? Look no further than education. New York shells out a mind-blowing $36,293 per kid, per year. That’s Ivy League money. And yet half those kids still end up in remedial math and English when they hit college. Try trimming the fat and suddenly every special interest in the state forms a human shield around the budget. Your kids? Meh. What really matters is protecting everyone’s “slice of the pie.”

So there you have it. New York: the land of high taxes, higher regulations, and the highest concentration of people who don’t want you doing a blessed thing near their backyard. But hey—at least we’ve got great bagels.