Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll recounts MY WOKE WEEKEND. She writes:

I have been so impressed with the wondrous advice of Saint Anthony of Fauci – “don’t get masks, they will do no good and, besides, the medical folks need them; DO get masks, now they are essential; wear TWO masks; in a restaurant, wear your mask from the door to your table; then, when your food arrives, take a bite and then put your mask back on” – that, naturally, I followed to the letter the Brandon Administration’s Awesome Thanksgiving Advice.

On last week’s festive holiday, into the locked garage went my only guest, awaiting the results of his hourly COVID tests. Sure, it was a little cold in there and a little smelly what with the garbage and all. A small price to pay that we all should be SAFE. The guest also was asked to provide a Wasserman Test, his vaccination history going back to DPT when he was three months old, and his Notarized Ancestry.com papers to see if he had any Pilgrim blood in him which would ban him from Thanksgiving as a heartless white supremacist.

He passed with flying colors, his ancestors having been thrown out of some of the finest Jew-hating countries of Europe, but none got here in time either to have slaves or to oppress Indians, thank The Lord.

Unfortunately, by the time Max Cossack, the famous novelist, finally got all “his papers in order,” banged on the door, and emerged from the garage in a decidedly un-holiday-like mood, I was already serving the Pumpkin Pie. Well, technically, HALF the Pumpkin Pie.

I microwaved a nice plate for him of the Turkey Leg and a couple of tablespoons of leftover Mashed Potatoes. There were plenty of Sweet Potatoes, which he heartily dislikes – nobody ever eats them except kids who eat the marshmallows off the top, why do we ever make them? – and some Sweet Corn. My World-Famous Southern Hot Turkey Sausage, Cornbread, and Pecan Stuffing, alas, was also already mostly gone. Some pig ate a lot WHILE she was making it, but why point fingers and assign blame? There is much to be said for having no guests at all, besides, of course, the main one: SAFE, SAFE, SAFETY!!!

As Americans, we used to have to strike a balance between the ancient English advice of “Look before you leap” and “He who hesitates is lost” and even between “Take it To the Limit” and “Take It Easy.” Who can argue with life advice from a band that includes Joe Walsh?

We were a proud nation of boundary-crossers – sometimes even state lines! — envelope-pushers, of pioneers, explorers and authority-defiers. In short, a brave, bold, disobedient group of independent INDIVIDUALS. Who took on the most powerful army in the world at the time – and beat it, never giving up even though it took eight long, extremely unsafe years.

We were also a kind and generous group, flagrantly helping out our neighbors and extended families in time of need. We were a polite people. Our “Magic Words” beat into every child’s head from birth, were “please” and “thank you.” Plus “Yes, Ma’am” and “No, Sir” in the South.

And now? Evidently, the new Magic Word is “SAFE.” Pathetic. And driven almost, but not entirely, by women, which, frankly, mortifies me as one of them there wimmins, the kind that failed to vote for Hillary because our toxic male husbands told us not to. In an article a few days ago, it was noted that a black woman playwright whose play was featured at the Geffen Theatre in Los Angeles just yanked her play because some kerfuffle occurred in which womxn (her word, not mine) cast members felt “unsafe.” Of course they did! (Probably right after they found out how crummy box office was going to be…just a guess.)

No more details were allowed, but I have been in or around MANY such productions where disagreements arise between director and singers or even between actors or comics. It can either be handled and resolved like adults, or like pouting, weeping, professional victims, and taking your proverbial “ball and going home.” And always, always, nowadays, claiming that whatever happened made somebody feel “unsafe” trumps everything. Not one person who claimed that has ever been the least bit in actual danger. Not for a minute. It is always a lie and a dreadful abuse of a word that has real meaning. The meaning of “safe” is NOT “carte blanche permission to act like a two-year-old holding her breath to get her way.”

The theater world is easily avoided, but the “safe” business has absolutely infested the corporate world through the conduit of effluvia from academia. Coddled, cowardly “scholars” who misbehave egregiously and then fall back on not feeling “safe” are darn lucky I am not the President of the college. Although the chances of that happening are roughly the same as my being awarded a Pulitzer Prize in commentary.

Because if I saw one of the little darlings of any color engaging in a spittle-flecked obscenity-fest at a professor whose opinions on Hallowe’en costumes she finds offensive, she would be on her way home on the next Greyhound. “This is a community of adult scholars, not tantrum-prone toddlers who need plush toys and Play-Doh in a safe space. Freedom of speech MAKES you safe. You have elected not to participate in a community of free expression and so you may get out. I wish you well in your future endeavors. Write if you get work.”

Why, in the name of all that’s Holy or at least sane, does not one of these shameful college Presidents ever say that?

But back to our Thanksgiving. After Max finished his tepid leftovers, we watched a little CNN because we did not think our blood pressure was quite high enough. And, we learned that the Waukesha “holiday” parade was just a tragedy caused by a driverless SUV programmed by Donald Trump in collusion with Putin which struck and killed six elderly black dancing grandmas and a black kid. First Kenosha and now this!

In a wild coincidence and déjà vu episode, Jussie Smollett had been AT the parade wearing his festive holiday noose and he testified that the SUV swerved away from white people in order to hit only marchers of color! Then, he almost dropped his Subway sandwich when he heard the voice of Donald Trump coming from the SUV saying, “This is MAGA COUNTRY.” What were the chances that he would have to endure that particular vicious threat more than once in his life? Kamala reached out to support Jussie and Spartacus Booker said this clearly proved we needed more SUV laws.

Cher immediately Tweeted some semi-literate gibberish in her whimsical style, screaming hysterically at the world, apparently in frustration that there are so few gigs any more for scantily clad 75-year old geezers, and so they must get attention some other way. Sad.

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