Chapter 34: Heaters (10/20)
As My "Friends" Plot Against Me
If you’ve been keeping up with our story (about porches) you know why we are selling out of heaters and it’s not because they are using them inside.
They are using them outside.
While it doesn’t seem like the safest thing in the world, the bars and restaurants are still pretending that “social distancing” keeps people safe (because they have to) and so the hook-up hangers-on are meeting on their back porch--even though the temperature is now dropping below comfortable levels.
But I’ll sell them what they want to buy anyway.
Addendum: As for the hardware store in Tulsa, Oklahoma, it looks as if it is becoming more and more of a reality. My family has decided to all pitch into the effort, as they are more and more aware of the fact that the city is becoming dangerous for me.
And by dangerous I don’t mean that crime is rising every day (although it is), but the mob is starting to threaten me. Not only have my (long-time!) friends abandoned me because of my political beliefs, but as I continue to post the truth (and memes) on my internet feeds, I am being harassed, canceled and told to leave town.
Most recently, it has come to my attention that there is a secret email list plotting to remove me from the city. A Kafka-esque secret star-chamber email list comprised of my once-close friends. I have been assured it is for the best reasons, that they have the best intentions.
But we all know what happens on the road paved with them.
I demand to see this email list, and they refuse. They assure me they are “raising money” to get me a “moving van” to see me back home to the Midwest, which I find to be preposterous. As if I can’t find my way back without them.
I should reveal that some of my one-time “friends” had now become literally involved in the Satanic Temple up the road in nearby Salem, Massachusetts. I demanded to know if these Satanists were involved in this email list. I was assured they were not. (I did not believe them.)
On the flip-side, I did have my supporters. There is an art assembly here in Southie where I had made some friends and supporters, and one of two of them had come by to tell me I was fighting the good fight (by simply saying true things).
They would come into the store and tell me that they supported me, but that they couldn’t say so publicly…
…lest they were canceled like I was being canceled.
I had to put a pause on telling the rest of this story because, to be quite honest, it is a bit traumatic to tell this part of the story. But, thankfully, there are only a few weeks left until I find myself (and my last good friend) on the road out of town.
