If we'd told you about what's going to happen to you today a
week ago, you wouldn't have listened to us, because you'd still be trapped in
that orb of amber, barely alive, waiting to wake up in a world gone mad. But now you're awake, you're angry at how happy
gay people are, and what's more, you're not going to take it anymore. That is, until later today.
See, today you're going to be at one of those "Tea
Party Rallies" that have become so popular with people who fuck horses,
and racists. You're going to spend most
of the rally shouting things in arcane German, and eliciting strange looks from
the puzzled elderly people who are marching with you. You'll be shouting your slogans for nearly
two hours alone before someone finally joins you.
He won't be handsome, not by traditional standards at least,
but something about him will strike you.
The line of his jaw, perhaps, or the twinkle in his eyes as he screams
for Obama to "go back to Africkerrr" in flawless colloquial German.
During a lull in the protest, you'll strike up a
conversation with him. He'll respond to
you in flawless low German, exclaiming that he read about you waking up on
Monday in The Post, but that he didn't think it was actually true. The two of you will bond. Turns out he'll be a young man who spent his
entire life in Mississippi and, after relocating to New York for a new job, was
infuriated by the number of rights black people had. Hell-bent on correcting what he saw as a
travesty of justice, he started "doing as his pappy taught him" up
here in New York, protesting non-violently and spewing hate speech in German
or, as he'll refer to it, "the one true tongue of the white race."
You'll learn a lot from him over the next few hours,
including what happened during World War II, what the deal with Jews is, the
way that Mexicans are stealing American children, and a few other things that
also didn't make a whole lot of sense.
After a while, you won't even listen to his weird hate speech anymore;
you'll just lose yourself in his eyes, the sheen of his dull brown eyes. Later tonight, you'll follow him back to his
apartment, where he'll show you his Nazi memorabilia piece by piece. While handing you a trench knife, your hands
will meet, one thing will lead to another and before long you'll be holding one
another, weeping softly at the joy you've found.
In like two weeks the two of you will lose your fucking
minds and try to kill one another, but tonight, and for the next thirteen,
you'll know what peace is in this strange young man's pale, pale arms.
Congratulations Gay Hessian!
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