Patron of the Week
OK, so I have been thoroughly wrapped up in reading the "Intelligence Report" this holiday weekend. It is rather funny because one of my very favorite patrons at the bar always brings me "Political Science Quarterly" and some other periodicals he thinks I will find interesting, but the "Intelligence Report" is put out by the Southern Poverty Law Center and chronicles America's hate groups, their leaders, their legislation, and any new cases being brought to trial. (Whoever had the idea to publicize and expose these people, bravo. It is scary at times to read about politicians or media figures I thought I backed until I learned of sub-agendas.) But anyhow, I was in a weird place this weekend as I tried to remember what this holiday is about and the sacrafice people have made, but in a time where I don't believe in the war we wage, it left me just plain confused and saddened. Then enter BAR PATRON OF THE WEEK.
Now, as I read the Intelligence Report, I ask myself sometimes if there is any group of people I deem as less than me or that I hate, hell, even dislike upon the first sight of them. Thought I was in the clear, until this weekend. I do not like middle aged white males with handle bar mustaches waxed into pointed perfection.
Now, I have only met three in my time, but they have all been scary good ol' boys. (Ah, Louisianna State Trooper who made me kneel at the back of my car with hands raised and your weapon drawn, I wasn't trying to be "a sassy know-it-all", just felt you were being a tad overbearing with your state given authority.) I'm sorry. I feel genuinely bad about not liking you, handle bar mustache guy, and I hope that someday I meet the one of you who makes me realize not all of you are the same, but alas, experience has not proved this to me as of yet.
Soooo.....our DJ on Saturday night has just set up and I notice Handle Bar Mustache Guy (HBMG) coming downstairs and seperating from his group to go on a post martini liberal hunt. I judged him initially. Very "you aren't from around here" type once over. However, I was in a text war with an anonymous party, so my attention was already taken. Five minutes later, I am being called upstairs as someone wants to talk to a manager. A guy in a 2 gallon cowboy hat and a mustache I am told. Something happened with the DJ.
Now, I can already guess the source of the problem. Our DJ is wearing a T-shirt with a picture of Dubya reading "Not My President" down the side. Everyone at work loves the shirt, but hey, we're not exactly conservative in any form to say the least. Being that the other manager was off, I have no choice but to field this one and keeping my mouth shut when it comes to political views......well, not necessarily one of my strongpoints. But it was awesome.
Here's the thing, HBMG let's me know he is taking his party and leaving. Oh yes, because of the DJ's shirt. Ah, but this is the best part. He curtly explains to me that he has fought in "many wars" alongside "many men who have died for their country and the freedom's there in." He also "knows our Commander in Chief and cannot support an establishment that supports such blatant disrepect." Alrighty. And I was so good, nodding and saying I'm sorry he feels this way(by the way, as he harrassed the DJ, our DJ happened to throw out "Oh, so you're part of the 31%. " Priceless) But now in the safety of my bloggy space, I want to offer someting as I was verbally attacked in a similiar fashion after wearing a WAR IS NOT THE ANSWER shirt to work oneday. I, nor our DJ, are on a mission to upset YOU personally. We are merely expressing an opinion we believe in enough to paint it on our chests. You get to have Bush bumperstickers, we get our shirts. But before you get your mustache all in a tangle, dude, remember what exactly those "freedoms" you f
ight for are. Yep, we can wear whatever shirt we want. Yippy. And by the way, I didn't kick you out for bad facial hair, not tipping, and being a general pain in my ass early on a Saturday night. Freedom Rules!!! And HBMG, you are officially "Patron of the Week". Good job. The year's supply of mustache wax is on the way.
Now, as I read the Intelligence Report, I ask myself sometimes if there is any group of people I deem as less than me or that I hate, hell, even dislike upon the first sight of them. Thought I was in the clear, until this weekend. I do not like middle aged white males with handle bar mustaches waxed into pointed perfection.
Now, I have only met three in my time, but they have all been scary good ol' boys. (Ah, Louisianna State Trooper who made me kneel at the back of my car with hands raised and your weapon drawn, I wasn't trying to be "a sassy know-it-all", just felt you were being a tad overbearing with your state given authority.) I'm sorry. I feel genuinely bad about not liking you, handle bar mustache guy, and I hope that someday I meet the one of you who makes me realize not all of you are the same, but alas, experience has not proved this to me as of yet.
Soooo.....our DJ on Saturday night has just set up and I notice Handle Bar Mustache Guy (HBMG) coming downstairs and seperating from his group to go on a post martini liberal hunt. I judged him initially. Very "you aren't from around here" type once over. However, I was in a text war with an anonymous party, so my attention was already taken. Five minutes later, I am being called upstairs as someone wants to talk to a manager. A guy in a 2 gallon cowboy hat and a mustache I am told. Something happened with the DJ.
Now, I can already guess the source of the problem. Our DJ is wearing a T-shirt with a picture of Dubya reading "Not My President" down the side. Everyone at work loves the shirt, but hey, we're not exactly conservative in any form to say the least. Being that the other manager was off, I have no choice but to field this one and keeping my mouth shut when it comes to political views......well, not necessarily one of my strongpoints. But it was awesome.
Here's the thing, HBMG let's me know he is taking his party and leaving. Oh yes, because of the DJ's shirt. Ah, but this is the best part. He curtly explains to me that he has fought in "many wars" alongside "many men who have died for their country and the freedom's there in." He also "knows our Commander in Chief and cannot support an establishment that supports such blatant disrepect." Alrighty. And I was so good, nodding and saying I'm sorry he feels this way(by the way, as he harrassed the DJ, our DJ happened to throw out "Oh, so you're part of the 31%. " Priceless) But now in the safety of my bloggy space, I want to offer someting as I was verbally attacked in a similiar fashion after wearing a WAR IS NOT THE ANSWER shirt to work oneday. I, nor our DJ, are on a mission to upset YOU personally. We are merely expressing an opinion we believe in enough to paint it on our chests. You get to have Bush bumperstickers, we get our shirts. But before you get your mustache all in a tangle, dude, remember what exactly those "freedoms" you f
ight for are. Yep, we can wear whatever shirt we want. Yippy. And by the way, I didn't kick you out for bad facial hair, not tipping, and being a general pain in my ass early on a Saturday night. Freedom Rules!!! And HBMG, you are officially "Patron of the Week". Good job. The year's supply of mustache wax is on the way.
posted by Dejenerate @ 3:46 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home