I saw an old geezer on the subway: he was wearing one of those red plastic flowers. He looked too straight to be queer, and he had no fashion sense. And he had dandruff. I thought, for a moment, that this was some new sexual orientation: maybe a lesbian done up as an old man; who knows? My gut reaction was to avoid eye contact; you never know when some victim class primate is out cruising for a Human Rights payday. Then realization hit me, like the fist of a Nigoon after my cell phone: this was an old white man, a veteran; and it was Remembrance Day.
Nobody else on the subway car was wearing those red plastic flowers. The Vanguard media is in the start up phase of a campaign to regift the event into something more Trotsky. You know how that goes. The Law of Unintended Consequences marches on: you can expect Lithium in your drinking water, pedophiles working with children in public schools, a necrophilia pride march, and polygamy; and you can pay for it too. At least that part is not unexpected.
Yeah, who cares. You care, but know enough to know that you can only care in an approved leftist way. You don’t want to get bullied like Crack Mayor Ford. Like the majority of subway patrons here in the City of Light, go forget Remembrance Day. Who cares about a bunch of white men killing each other over stupid stuff. Did Hitler have a wide screen television? You know, the stuff needed for survival? Not. Let us be caring and not care, like the rest of the red herd. The siege of Przemysl has no lessons for nobody; not even grammar. Let us be dumbed down and dumber, celebrate slave culture, obsess about our neurosis, and ignore the scythed wheels of fortune that come for those that forget.