There are certain sections of New York, Major, I would not advise you to try to invade,” debonair expatriate New Yorker Rick Blaine advised Nazi creep Major Strasser over drinks at Rick’s Cafe. And that’s how we’ve always seen our city – “tough, tough, tough, tough, tough, tough, tough,” as the Stones put it. So what’s all this about letting a little flood shut down the subways and a few measly mosquitos force everyone indoors? We even allowed a hurricane named Floyd (Floyd!) to blow away part of Fashion Week. The city that never sleeps has become the city kept inside by Jewish mother Giuliani – Be polite! Don’t jaywalk! Watch out for street-vendor hot dogs! – while formerly lightweight Los Angeles is doing business as usual in the face of mudslides and earthquakes. Perhaps we’ve grown soft from running with the bull instead of fighting off the bear – or maybe Jay Mohr is just more of an Action hero for the modern mean streets than Robert De Niro.