Day 109: Lipstick on a Pig

Friday, May 10, 2019

On my way to work I wore my brown MAGA hat on the subway and then on the bus from downtown Brooklyn to Red Hook, receiving several condescending stares from the libtards and progs on the bus. Business as usual. I passively acknowledged their stares, then ignored them.

After work, I wore my brown hat again on the infamous F train that shuttles the Park Slop progtards to and from Manhattan. I was minding my own business, working on my laptop, when someone boarded the train and sat directly opposite me. I glanced up and saw an unusually bizarre SJW shooting me a stare of scorn, incredulity, and condescension.

Ironic, given the fact that her own manifest intolerance was intensified by her willfully repellent appearance. Her upper body was squished into a red tank top, causing her blubber to ooze out at the edges like canned biscuit dough. Her naked pimply arms were covered with grotesque tattoos, and her elephantine derrière and wide-spread legs were crammed into black spandex tights. A demented smear of bright red lipstick and a greasy mop of Medusa-like hair completed the repulsive spectacle.

She pulled out her phone and took a semi-surreptitious photo of me, then started tapping away furiously, shaking her head and snorting with forced laughter. I merely smiled at the pitiful creature, then returned to my work.

How does one explain such behavior? Two words: mental illness. In her mind, she’s a bohemian free spirit. In reality, she’s stuck in childhood and will probably never become a rational adult, always blaming someone else for her problems. Always protesting . . . but protesting what? The freedom and opportunity she enjoys? A president who puts his country first, who does not bow to the satanic forces of “progressivism” and totalitarianism?

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