Liberals use their brains to tie themselves into intersectional knots. As a result, a liberal becomes unable to travel through simple social occasions with grace and refinement. If Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez may be held up as an example, the best we can hope for is extended demi-adulthood.
My son graduated from high school yesterday. As I sat down in the arena to await the ceremony, I felt joy intermingled with a diminutive of melancholy. Imagine: the quiet little boy that God placed in my arms 18 beautiful years ago about to take a step farther away from me.
To my dismay, the observance became a showcase for a selfish, mindless, and coarse performance that half the spectators indulged in. Apparently, the fools won the popular vote.
The principal announced that the choir would open the event by singing the National Anthem. A lady right behind me said, "I don't give a f--- about the National Anthem." With this proclamation, she announced that she is a liberal and the event unfolding was not going to be about the graduates; it was going to be all about her. She and her gang talked loudly as the ensemble sang; they talked loudly from fifteen feet and within easy earshot of the singers.
Leave aside what the kids were singing; what kind of adult brutishly talks over a well rehearsed performance by earnest youths? The young people involved didn't matter to this twit and her posse. Liberals cannot stand, let alone appreciate, the results of hard work and determination by other people.
They talked loudly over the principal's address and the superintendent of schools' short monologue. As I said, they weren't alone; more than half of a crowd that I estimate at 2,000 exhibited the same thoughtless comportment.
Then they talked over a speech carefully prepared by the president of the senior class. I don't know how she didn't burst into tears. She kept herself composed while her thoughts ricocheted off the dense skulls of our audience like bullets hitting the plexiglass windows that protect tellers during a bank heist.
Pressed for time, we were asked to hold our applause until after all of the graduates had received their diplomas. This is merely polite — each sibling, parent, and grandparent wants to hear his loved one's name. I'm not calling it a solemn moment; I'm just saying a little respect for others would be nice.
You know the story: the dolts whistled, whooped, and screamed as if they were at a basketball game. The name of the next student was consistently drowned out by those cheering for their own. You can imagine the volume of response created by our National Anthem–hating backbencher and her crew; they literally screamed for half a minute as names went by at eight per.
When the time came for all of the graduates to toss their mortarboards into the air, our low-rent liberal neighbors let out a finale of ear-piercing screeches. I suppose the visual excitement of this act appealed to one of their more easily reached senses.
As the noise died, I turned to one of the barbarians and said, "What's wrong with you people?"
I said this because I can't relate.