Day 12: Sanity from the Ivory Coast

Saturday, February 2, 2019

Not so cold today, near 30, so I leave the shearling hat at home and wear my red MAGA hat as I head into Manhattan to run some errands. On the 4 train heading to the Upper East Side I notice a young guy and his girlfriend, twenty-somethings, nicely dressed. They both shoot nasty stares my way. I stare them down. I have four siblings; I know about staring contests.

I need some new gloves, so I decide to visit the Century 21 near Lincoln Center because they always seem to have a huge selection of gloves. As I’m walking up Eighth Avenue, a Neanderthal man shouts at me, “Go to Hell.” I return the sentiment, but louder. The only way to deal with bullies is to fight back, twice as hard. It’s the only language they understand.

When I get to Century 21, lots of people notice my hat; I can see them out of the corners of my eyes, can feel their stares. I pretend to ignore them. The Hat is more powerful when I do that.

Afterwards, I take the 1 train downtown to do some more shopping, casually strolling up and down the subway platform while waiting for the train. The Upper West Side libtards on the platform get a good gander at my hat, and I sense a multitude of brains misfiring. The subway car is full of glum, depressed Upper West Siders. Some, when they see my hat, appear to become even more depressed. I feel sorry for them, but they deserve to be miserable for being such narrow-minded, ignorant bigots. They chose to put their rational minds into lock-down mode. They chose to shun, insult and shout down anyone with whom they disagree. So, now they are paying the price for their stupidity and arrogance.

Later, on the way home, I take the 4 train to the Staten Island ferry. I’m in a zoned-out commuting frame of mind, not paying much attention to anything but I happen to glance over and see a black guy grinning ear to ear. He gives me the thumbs up, I reciprocate and give him a megawatt grin. When a seat opens up next to him, I go over and sit next to him and we start chatting. He’s from Africa, the Ivory Coast, and immigrated legally in the mid-80s, jumped through all the hoops. Knows exactly what’s going on in this country. Been in New York since 1986, so he knows a lot more about Trump than I do. Tells me he loves Trump; always knew he would be a great president.

After boarding the ferry, while I’m searching for a quiet seat away from the cretins who play barbaric, primitive “music” on their phones, a guy interrupts his phone conversation to shout out, “love your hat!” A few seconds later another guy walks by and shouts out “Make America Great Again!”

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