The Septuagenarian Speaks – published January 30, 2019, Siskiyou Daily News

I am unemployed and not going to school, so I have time on my hands.  (Actually, I’m retired, but same difference.)  Like others who don’t have anything better to do, I’m consumed with the need to strike a blow for social justice.

I have written newspaper columns for a couple of years in an effort to make the world better, but nothing’s changed.  If anything, it’s worse.  It’s time to change strategy.  I need a crusade: A March for Social Justice!

There are logistics to be worked out.  My crusade needs a name.  Here it is: “Bigot LGBTQ Fascist Israelite Homophobic Racist Misogynistic M*****F****rs For Social Justice.”  Every worthy crusade also needs an acronym, using the first letter of each word in the name.  Something easy to remember.  This one is a piece of cake, it is “BLFIHRMMFSJ.”  Learn it.  Say it to yourself a few times, then go into the bathroom and say it in front of a mirror.  Take a paper towel because the first few times you will need to clean the mirror.

A crusade needs a dress code.  As the leader, I must set the example.  Most marches these days don’t set good examples with their attire.  Sometimes the marchers and the anti-marchers get confused, and can’t keep track of who are the good guys and who are the bad guys.  Selecting a uniform is important.  It must be balanced, lest the mainstream media write the crusade off as lunatic fringe.  The “pen versus the sword” is the theme of my crusade, and the uniform should symbolize that.  I couldn’t find a sword, so I strapped my .44 Magnum Ruger on my right hip, loaded with symbolic blanks.  For my left hip I had lots of pens, but they didn’t counterbalance the .44 Magnum.  An old upright Royal typewriter did the trick, but the uniform still needed more, something in the middle.  I attached a figurine “scales of justice” to a Forty Niners baseball cap and placed it on my head.  Perfect!  Now all I needed was a tee-shirt and a sign.  I stole a “for sale” sign from a house down the street and covered the real estate agent’s verbiage with duct tape.  With a Sharpie I wrote “F**k Trump” on one side and “MAGA” on the other.

I still haven’t done the tee-shirt.  The tee-shirt needs slogans, but I’m out of ideas.  Maybe you, the reader, can help me.  If I do my crusade at the Capitol Mall in Washington, D.C., it will take a while to get there.  I will wear a plain shirt, but take the Sharpie so I can improvise along the way.  Give me your best shot.

I bought a one-way airplane ticket from Medford, Oregon (MFR) to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport (DCA).  With no bag to check, I went directly to MFR’s TSA Security checkpoint, wearing my social justice uniform.

All my credentials were in order.  I had my boarding pass and driver’s license, but those TSA jerks wouldn’t let me through the security checkpoint, even though I was “TSA-Pre” approved.  There was something about my uniform they didn’t like.  They must not like constitutionally-protected freedom of speech.  Or maybe they’re grumpy because they’ve been working without pay, thanks to the government shutdown.  As an aside, think about that.  If Raley’s didn’t pay their people, the California Labor Commission would unleash a SWAT team in a heartbeat.

Back to my story.  Whatever their stupid reason, TSA wouldn’t let me on the plane.  So, it’s going to take a while to get to the Capitol Mall.  As I am writing this, I’m about half-way to Eagle Point.  I may need you to send funds.

Bob Kaster
Yreka, CA

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