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Do NOT Press Happy Fun Doug's Buttons.
Especially when he is tired and hungry.
Getting back into the swing of things at work has been difficult, and a 9.5 hour day Tuesday didn't help.) So I've been coming home tired and cranky. The first warm-spell isn't really helping matters with my walk to the light rail going from pleasant to sweat-producing (note to self: get bike into the shop for spring tune-up and puncture-resistant tubes.)
Today was no different. Got on the train home, found a seat on one of the benches, opened my book and started to read. This is a three seat bench, and there was an older woman at the other end of the bench. A stop or two later, a young Africa-American woman got on, looked around, apparently decided that sitting next to someone was unacceptable.
"You know, a gentleman would offer his seat to a lady."
Realizing she was talking to me, I looked up from my book.
"Do you have the right to vote?" I asked.
"Huh?" was the reply.
"The vote. Your franchise. Do you have the ability to secure credit under your own name? Can you, if you wish, apply to be a firefighter or police officer? Do you have a legal identity that is not attached to your husband or father? Are you judged on merit, rather than gender, at your place of work? In short, do you enjoy all the rights and privileges of a US citizen regardless of your gender?"
I waited for an answer.
"Well, yeah..."
I cut her off.
"Congratulations, the dream of Susan B. Anthony has come true! We're equals. Which means my ass stays in this seat and you can either take the empty seat next to me or stand. Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn either way."
I went back to my book.
"But I'm black!"
Without looking up. "I'm Irish. Nobody beats us at racial or national hardships."
(What I almost said was "So, you need directions to the back of the car then?")
A stop or two later, she sat down.
Her first mistake was assuming I was a gentleman.
Getting back into the swing of things at work has been difficult, and a 9.5 hour day Tuesday didn't help.) So I've been coming home tired and cranky. The first warm-spell isn't really helping matters with my walk to the light rail going from pleasant to sweat-producing (note to self: get bike into the shop for spring tune-up and puncture-resistant tubes.)
Today was no different. Got on the train home, found a seat on one of the benches, opened my book and started to read. This is a three seat bench, and there was an older woman at the other end of the bench. A stop or two later, a young Africa-American woman got on, looked around, apparently decided that sitting next to someone was unacceptable.
"You know, a gentleman would offer his seat to a lady."
Realizing she was talking to me, I looked up from my book.
"Do you have the right to vote?" I asked.
"Huh?" was the reply.
"The vote. Your franchise. Do you have the ability to secure credit under your own name? Can you, if you wish, apply to be a firefighter or police officer? Do you have a legal identity that is not attached to your husband or father? Are you judged on merit, rather than gender, at your place of work? In short, do you enjoy all the rights and privileges of a US citizen regardless of your gender?"
I waited for an answer.
"Well, yeah..."
I cut her off.
"Congratulations, the dream of Susan B. Anthony has come true! We're equals. Which means my ass stays in this seat and you can either take the empty seat next to me or stand. Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn either way."
I went back to my book.
"But I'm black!"
Without looking up. "I'm Irish. Nobody beats us at racial or national hardships."
(What I almost said was "So, you need directions to the back of the car then?")
A stop or two later, she sat down.
Her first mistake was assuming I was a gentleman.
Mmmm... I Smell Fresh Meat!
That sounds remarkably like a certain incident about 60 odd years ago when a someone refused to give up their seat based on the color of the skin of the person demanding it. How was it okay for a black woman to do to a white man today what Rosa Parks refused to do for a white man in 1955?
If I were to refuse to hire a qualified person because they were black, that's discrimination. If I were to hire them because they were white, that's... discrimination. It doesn't matter what color *I* am in that sentence, by the way.
Of course, even as I write this it's obvious you're a troll, and we really shouldn't feed you. But if you can parade your ignorance as an excuse to heap upon a complete stranger who's "crime" is not giving up his seat when other's were available, then I can use the crappy day I just had to call you out as a sorry excuse for a human being who obviously still lives with their mother and couldn't successfully debate their way out of her womb.
Or is that why you made the "This will probably be deleted..." comment? Was it more a statement of hope that you wouldn't be force to actually DEFEND your idiotic commentary?
Heh. He was also correct on another point: We were eating troll-meat for breakfast when you were barely one step above a pap smear.
Re: Mmmm... I Smell Fresh Meat!
Huh, it so happens that according to her user id, she did! Gibbs is a secretarial college in Connecticut (to my eternal shame, I seem to live in the same state as this twa--I meen twit.).
And you're right, haven't had this much fun feeding the trolls since Alt-c!