Adaptive Curmudgeon

Stories On Two Wheels: Part 4

Having read and reflected on a tiny bit of reason in a world gone mad, it was time to go. I’d drank so many glasses of ice water the coffee shop staff was looking at me funny. I put a big tip in their jar and wandered out. I used the restroom to switch to mesh pants in full stillsuit mode. Nothing but skivvies underneath! The mesh would provide adequate protection (definitely more than denim) with more air flow. It was only a small improvement but sometimes that’s all you need. (In case you’re wondering, the mesh is opaque. I wasn’t flashing my hairy ass to the world!)

I kept thinking about how wonderful and kind everyone had been the day earlier. Either I looked like I was dying (which is possible) or rural people are coming together in the current times of strife (which is my hope). A bottle of water and a free meal! In the heart of America, far from cities, folks seem to be going out of their way to be good Samaritans. I basked in the happiness of it all and resolved to be a better person.

To my discredit, I blew it! Only an hour later I saw them. Woke motherfuckers! My good intentions and warm feelings vanished in a flash!

Lined up like mental dominoes, they were standing on the sidewalk in the center of a city. What’s the point in protesting at this location? They were in the bluest city in the bluest county in a blue state and they had gathered to bitch publicly that they were now in charge of their local affairs. This State is almost certain to support abortion for whatever gender(s) get knocked up. I think (?) this State preemptively passed pro-abortion laws in anticipation of this very moment.

The crowd was whiter than rice in a snowstorm. They were unfocused and I assume they’d hastily assembled. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon; maybe they wanted to be in the evening news? This wasn’t a gathering of deep thinkers. I can guarantee none of them had read the decision. I’d bet they were sketchy on the difference between State and Federal law.

The demographics were weirdly unbalanced. The sexes (apparent sexes?) were split into two distinct age classes. About 1/3 of them were young anemic male-ish soyboy manbuns. The other 2/3 of the crowd were blue haired shrieking older female-ish harpies. The female-ish beings were decades older and formed a tight central herd; thus relegating the man buns to the periphery. The manbuns looked scared and young and uncertain. I could almost imagine them being eaten by the larger elder harpies. I couldn’t do a full assessment while riding but that was the demographics at a glance and you can make of it what you will.

From a practical standpoint almost nobody in this crowd was both female and of a biologically fertile age. (Since nobody there appeared capable of delivering anything but a pizza, their concerns were either fashion, eugenic, or intellectually weird. If they were legitimately invested in sketchy jurisprudence they’d cleverly disguised themselves as if they didn’t know their Plessy from their Ferguson.) My base evaluation was that they were protesting because that’s what they do in lieu of a real life. If they weren’t protesting a court ruling they’d be equally happy protesting an oil pipeline or demanding war in Ukraine or shouting about peace or demanding a tax or bitching about paying their student loans. I can’t imagine the harpies getting laid anyway. Then I wondered if the harpies were cougaring the skinny manbuns? I shuddered at the thought.

So, given that God had provided me with two remarkable acts of charity in the last 24 hours, did I react properly?

NO! I flipped the bird! Arm held high in the air; proud and clear…. Fuuuuuuuuck them!

I passed by slowly and only ten feet from where they stood on the sidewalk. They got my point loud and clear. A few looked legitimately shocked. I think they’re used to “protesting” in an environment where everyone and their cat either agrees with them or keeps their head down.

The thing that bothers me is that I did not pay forward all the kindness I’d received.

I’m probably going to hell.

Since then I’ve been looking for a chance to buy someone’s meal or save a kitten from a tree or some shit. No dice. I got a hint to be nice and a perfect opportunity to rise above. I blew it.

Do I have regrets? I wish I could say I have regrets but I don’t. Not yet. Just being honest with myself I’m bitter about the evils they’ve done recently. Two years ago this same crowd was either burning down cities personally or cheering for the act. Nine months ago they brutally sought to force me to take a vaccine. Putting aside the pros and cons of the specific medical treatment, until 2021 nobody on earth tried to inject me with anything I didn’t want. Before Omabacare and Covid, medical bureaucracies were inept and expensive but they weren’t overtly evil. Old school doctors told you to eat better and quit smoking but they didn’t actively threaten your livelihood or freedom.

In protesting the Dobbs ruling, the crowd was horrified by greater control over their own fate. They must enjoy personal subjugation as much as they love coercing others. And boy do they love coercion! They moved heaven and earth and insisted on complete disregard of all normal safety protocols to get the vaccine (for free!) but it wasn’t enough to shut them up. They were miserable because I didn’t want what they wanted. They were driven to, lusted to, deeply needed to coerce me. This remains true even as they stood on a sidewalk fretting that they were no longer at the whim of an invented blanket centralized “penumbra”. They’re terrified of local representation by their State of residence because it’s a step closer to self control and they hate it.

In their stampede for the vaccine they’d have gleefully held me at gunpoint. The only reason corrupt bureaucrats didn’t go full Nuremberg is because they couldn’t pull off the logistics. I’ll repeat that because it’s important; the reason they didn’t perform crimes against humanity was lack of power, not lack of intent.

To some extent they succeed in their drive to subjugate. I’m a loner in the hinterland but they’ve altered the whole of society where I live. They’re tied up in why I can’t go fishing at my favorite Canadian lake and I wonder if the bank will freeze my assets for wrongthink and we all assume they’re cooking up some other panic like monkey pox to lockdown the world yet again.

I can’t forgive them. I miss a society composed of adults. They’re nasty children who’ve made the whole world into the kids table at thanksgiving.

Yet this was my chance for personal improvement. I could have been magnanimous in victory; even after 50 years of penumbras. The harpies and man buns weren’t doing anything unusual for their sort. Street theater and social preening and various forms of mental masturbation are expected (required?) within their ranks. I could have rolled by; neither agreeing with nor taunting them. Just because they were acting out their chosen role as adult children didn’t mean I had to act out mine as a mean scary biker. But I didn’t rise above. I flipped them off just like a big mean scary biker would. I played my role without hesitation. Shit!

I should forgive. I’ll keep trying. Wish me luck.

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