I Lost My Post

I had an idea for a post and I wrote about six hundred words.  But by four hundred I was starting to dislike the idea.  I walked away from it for a while.  In fact, I watched a movie (“The Boston Strangler”) and by the time I got back I erased it.  It was too much.

So here I am at the eleventh hour (literally) and I’ve got to come up with an idea.

I’ll just give a slice of life.  I had to travel to the enclaves of blue privilege in the People’s Republic.  I was in Wellesley and Newton Mass.  Now I haven’t been in these Boston suburbs in years but they’re just as hilarious and nauseating as ever.  Now it’s been a year or two since I last saw a “Black Lives Matter” lawn sign but on one street there were four.  And then I looked at the bumper stickers on the BMW’s and every third one had the “We’re Not Going Back” sign or “My Body, My Choice.”  Now this was in the early afternoon so most working age people were at work but I never saw so many dour-looking old waspy females in one place.  It was like some kind of Katherine Hepburn impersonator’s convention.  I flushed two of them when my GPS sent me down a dead-end road.  When they saw my non-BMW car coming down their little Cul-de-Sac of Lost Souls, they looked like they wanted to call the authorities to put a stop to these riff-raff spewing carbon dioxide and testosterone in their little bubble.

At the offices I stopped in everyone seemed sedate and anti-depressed.  No emotions seemed to intrude and no visible life detracted from an air of propriety. Everyone followed the lines and spoke in low tones and wore the right clothes.  It was pretty creepy.

When I headed out, I took Route 9 west and at some point (maybe Natick or Framingham, not sure which) I stopped at a Dunkin Donuts.  And the people were among the living again.  Now they were still New Englanders which isn’t normal people for sure but they weren’t the pod people I had just escaped from.  They were rude, sarcastic and in a bad mood, in other words the typical Dunkin Donuts staff.  But they didn’t creep me out.  And as I drove along, I noticed plenty of Harris/Walz signs but not a single BLM sign.

Rich progressives are an entirely different life form.  They’re tucked away in their cocoon and they have no intention of ever coming out.  Their hermetically sealed world is completely shielded from Haitian refugees eating cats and geese and more importantly impervious to people who don’t think Trump is a monster.  They expect the world to one day consist of nothing but them.  How this is supposed to happen they don’t worry about.  But to that end they and all their friends send people like Elizabeth Warren to Washington to make sure that nothing ever interferes with their cloistered little existence and the measures needed to keep it that way.  It was an instructive day.  It reminded me who we work for.

Updated:

Milo Mindbender commented:

I also drift into an occasional bubble of liberalism, and they believe in free expression, but can’t contemplate someone not agreeing whole heatedly with their viewpoint. It’s not that they want to stop opposing views, it’s they can’t believe anyone doesn’t see the world exactly as they do.
This is the same thing when Martha’s vineyards declared itself a sanctuary city, until refugees showed up, then they used the authorities to relocate them just as fast as they could before it effected their real estate values.
I hope they get a real eye opener in November, and the ballot exceeds the cheat by such a margin that there is no way to consider it legitimate with a straight face.