Bye, Eric: An Op-Ed

By now, most of you have heard the news—Eric Adams, the man who promised to be the great redeemer of New York City, stands teetering on the edge of his own fall. And to those of us paying attention, the only surprise is that it took this long. The Mayor, with his polished smile and swagger, has finally walked into the spotlight for all the wrong reasons. But don’t be fooled. This is not the sudden collapse of a hero. It is the slow, inevitable exposure of a man who was always playing a crooked game.

Eric Adams is a slug.

I’m choosing my words carefully here. Children may read this, after all. But if you know anything about the way this city operates, you know that politeness is not the same as truth. The truth is that Adams is but a symptom of a disease much larger than himself—a disease that’s been festering at the core of New York City politics for longer than I care to remember. It’s a system where the dirtiest rise and the purest are left to flounder. And Eric? He’s been rising for a long time.

Did you think you could somehow hide a $10 million dollar gift juggernaut and no one would notice? Captain, Captain… How long did you think that ship could stay afloat? You’ve been steering this city straight into an iceberg, and now you’re about to go down with it. But let’s be honest, the iceberg was always there. What we’re seeing now is merely the tip of something that’s been lurking beneath the surface for years.

Corruption isn’t a scandal in New York City. It’s a tradition. And anyone who has been around long enough knows that the higher you climb, the deeper the rot. The problem with Eric Adams isn’t just that he’s crooked—it’s that he’s so typical. A man who preached about protecting the people, all while making sure his pockets stayed lined. The tragedy is not in his fall, but in the fact that so many believed he was ever standing tall.

New York rewards those who can stomach the filth. To get to the top, you don’t need to be the best—you just need to know whose ring to kiss. And let’s not pretend that those rings are always worn on hands. There’s a certain stench that comes with success in this city, and Adams has been wearing it like a second skin for years. He didn’t get here because he was brilliant. He got here because he knew how to navigate the sewage and come out looking clean.

Look at the changes in the city’s leadership—especially in our schools. I’ve seen it up close, seen people I once knew and respected, their ambition transforming into something less than noble. At first, you admire them for their drive, but then you see the sacrifices they make. Not of themselves, but of others. They rise, yes, but at the expense of their principles, their integrity, and the people they claim to serve. And when they fall—and they always fall—it is never a surprise.

So, why should Eric Adams be any different?

His federal indictment is just the beginning. And while the headlines scream about gifts and shady deals, we all know this is just the first crack in the dam. What’s coming next will be bigger, uglier, and messier. But let’s be clear: the man was never clean to begin with. He sold himself as the people’s champion, but the only thing he’s been championing is his own ascent. The corruption in this city is not the exception—it’s the rule. And Adams? He’s been playing by the rules all along.

But here’s where things get interesting. As Adams’ empire crumbles, people are starting to ask questions. They’re looking at his friends, his allies, and the shadowy figures lurking behind the scenes. And they’re asking: Did he really think we wouldn’t notice? Did he really think he could hide a $10 million juggernaut and just keep rolling? How long did you think we’d stay quiet, Captain? This is New York. Someone is always watching.

Men like Adams have always been here, pretending to be one of us, pretending to understand the struggles of everyday New Yorkers. But the truth is, he never was. A true son of New York doesn’t sell out his people for power. He doesn’t climb over the broken backs of the city’s most vulnerable just to sit at the table with the corrupt and the greedy. Eric Adams sold us a vision of a city that never was, and in doing so, he betrayed the one that is.

Look at the company he keeps. Puffy—Sean Combs—one of the many celebrity figures orbiting Adams’ world, is a perfect reflection of the Mayor’s brand. Both are cut from the same cloth. Men who have mastered the art of image, who have made entire careers out of appearing larger-than-life, while quietly slipping into the shadows when it’s time to face the music. They are, after all, performers at heart. But even the best performers have an off night, and Adams has reached the end of his show.

So, no. I’m not surprised. And neither should you be. We’ve seen this before. New York is a city that loves to build its leaders up, only to tear them down when they’ve forgotten who they were supposed to be. And Adams? He forgot a long time ago. The only question left is how long before the rest of his carefully crafted empire collapses under the weight of its own lies.

Goodbye, Eric. We’ve seen your kind before. You won’t be missed.