Day 24: Jay Street Communion

Thursday, February 14, 2019

Happy Saint Valentine’s Day!

I have a date with Elektra tonight . . . Richard Strauss’s Elektra, that is. This is the first performance of a new English-language translation by Abigail Dyer, who will also be performing the role of Elektra. As modern to my ears as this opera is, I can’t imagine what people thought of it when it was first performed in 1909. I know there was a firestorm of criticism directed at the dissonance and extreme chromaticism, as well as Hofmannsthal’s libretto inspired by Sophocles’ Electra.

If I had heard it in 1909, I probably would have been harrumphing with everyone else, as my musical tastes fall firmly in the traditionalist camp. But Strauss’s score is sometimes thrilling, the plot is gripping, and I’m looking forward to hearing the new translation tonight.

Am wearing my blue MAGA hat today, on this my twenty-fourth continuous day of wearing the Hat.

Yesterday, while wearing my red MAGA hat, I had an intense experience while waiting for my train at the Jay Street subway station in Brooklyn. A tall, well-dressed, good-looking guy (who happened to have a dark brown complexion) came up to me and forthrightly asked, “May I shake your hand?” It always surprises me when strangers want to shake my hand. Of course, I gratefully obliged. He told me I was brave but I merely shrugged and said that I’ve been wearing MAGA hats for three weeks, so am more or less used to it by now.

He asked if I’ve had any unpleasant encounters. Just a few relatively minor ones, I explained, but most of the negativity consisted of rude stares and muttering. I emphasized that many reactions have been highly complimentary.

Our conversation quickly started pinballing around, touching on many topics. He told me that he had paid little attention to politics until the 2016 presidential election (he appeared to be in his twenties). Said he was originally for Bernie Sanders, but became disillusioned by the way the media and the Democrats treated him in their lust to crown Hitlery (I’m paraphrasing here).

I mentioned that the reason I started wearing a MAGA hat was to show my support for the Covington boys and to resist the fascist totalitarianism of the Left; that I refuse to be cowed by their attempts to crush free speech.

He told me the story of someone he once saw on the subway, an innocent soul who was merely displaying a sign, trying to spread the truth about what really happened in Haiti after the 2010 earthquake, while Hillary Clinton was Secretary of State, when both Clintons grabbed power in Haiti and funneled much of the relief money into their Pay-For-Play Personal Slush Fund (a.k.a. the “Clinton Foundation”). That lone, brave bearer of the truth on the subway was immediately surrounded and excoriated by rabid left-wingers. Why? Because he dared to tell the truth.

During my conversation with this incredibly insightful young man, this grownup (so unlike the immature, brainwashed, spoiled, twenty-something millennial brats who infest New York), I was kicking myself for not yet having bought a good surveillance body cam. In retrospect, the conversation we had seems almost supernatural and should have been recorded.

He told me that he didn’t like Trump at first, because – he admitted – he was brainwashed like everyone else in his circle of friends. He mentioned that he doesn’t like everything Trump is doing, to which I merely shrugged to indicate that it’s ok not to agree with everything a politician does, or anyone for that matter. People of goodwill can agree to disagree.

He also said that he doesn’t like many Republican politicians because they’re spineless. The example he gave is when left-wingers unjustly hurl the racist card at Republicans, who then melt into spineless jellyfish instead of calling out the leftists for their lies. Were are in complete agreement about that.

We talked about how the left-wing “progressives,” the Democrats, and Antifa (I repeat myself) are always calling people like me racist and fascist in order to shut me up, when, in fact, they are the true fascists. I pointed out that the definition of the word fascism has several components, one of which is the forcible suppression of free speech. And it’s not the Republicans and Trump supporters who are storming around setting cars on fire, smashing windows, physically attacking people, screaming epithets at innocent passersby, telling lies, and creating hoaxes.

We got onto the topic of how the leftists pigeonhole people according to the color of their skin or gender or whatever. I mentioned that I could not care less about those superficial characteristics (and, by the way, neither does anyone I know, most of whom are Republicans). I told him that as far as I’m concerned there is only one race, the human race. Not so for the leftists and Democrats, who care only about superficial characteristics, never about the content of ones character.

He pointed out that people are social animals, that they feel safe in their little boxes, so when they’re accused of being racist or whatever, they’re afraid of being pushed out of their little boxes. It’s a tactic the Left uses to divide and conquer; to separate everyone into little categories, and then to use intimidation and shaming to try keep them in their little boxes. For someone who never paid attention to politics until 2016, this guy’s insights are amazing.

I told him that he should write a blog because he has a fascinating story to tell, but I also had an ulterior motive for making that suggestion. My mission is to save my country from the destruction being caused by the Left. What he had been telling me undermines the hegemony of the Democrats / Leftists / “Progressives” over blacks and “people of color.” It undermines the leftists’ power to keep blacks on the Democratic Plantation, to keep them enslaved by Big Government. It undermines the Democrats’ goal of keeping everyone on the Big Government Slave Plantation.

We covered a lot of territory very quickly, and there were times when I wanted to stop the conversation to seek some clarification or to explore a point more deeply. When my train finally arrived, I decided to wait for the next one. I reluctantly had to break away when the next train came, but I gave him my card and we parted with a genuine handshake of solidarity.

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