Sunday, April 28, 2019
As bookshops are a rare species now, in this brave new world addicted to glowing flat things, a sudden onset of bibliophilia compelled me to visit the Strand bookshop. On a Sunday evening, it was either the Strand or Barnes and Noble. I chose the crazy-bookshop-in-the-attic; at least it has character.
Browsing the Strand was once enjoyable despite the leftist slant, but the progtard owners went completely off the deep end when Trump was elected. Now one is assaulted by feminazi and anti-Trump paraphernalia at every turn, as well as the usual politically-correct literary and historically revisionist turds shat out by the intellectually stunted alumni of our
colleges indoctrination centers.
But I am a moth around the printed flame and the Strand still carries worthwhile books not yet banned or burned by the Nazis of Academe.
Before entering the store, I made a ritual perusal of the bargain books outside, then wandered into the store absentmindedly. After gathering a stack of intriguing books, I lugged them up to the second floor where the owners have stingily provided a meager bench large enough for three. Luckily there was one empty spot waiting for me.
While skimming one of my selections, a belligerent voice pierced my concentration. “Do you think he’s making America great?”
I had forgotten I was wearing a MAGA hat. How things have changed! On the very first day, ninety-seven days ago, when I started wearing a MAGA hat and wandered into the Strand, I was acutely aware of my hat every second I was in the store.
Tonight, I couldn’t have cared less. I looked up and slowly turned to see who had interrupted my studies. My accuser was a nose-ringed, tattooed, unkempt young woman, clearly an SJW
educated brainwashed at one of the Centers of Higher Indoctrination.
I looked her straight in the eyes and replied calmly and quietly, “I think you have a very narrow mind and I don’t want to talk to you right now because I’m very busy and very tired.” In retrospect, I regret my uncharitable and unfriendly response, but her petulant tone rubbed me the wrong way. Even so, normally I would have tried to have a conversation, hoping to pry open her closed mind just a sliver, but I really was exhausted and in no mood to parry the irrational beliefs of a brainwashed child.
She turned away, I resumed my reading, and after a few moments she quietly walked away.
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