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What Happens When I Leave My House

Updated: Sep 5


I went out into the world today.


Taking a leisurely walk down Beverly Street (the main street here in town), I think to myself: I may not have much, but I have a few things. Like I've never, not once in my entire life, uttered the words: “Let's go to the Island for the weekend!” and “But we have that fundraiser!” And that’s sumthin’!


Thinking these thoughts, I sit in my favorite leather chair in the corner at my favorite coffee shop, “So & So”. At a table across from me sits a group of older than middle-aged white people (two women and a man) dressed floppily, looking suspiciously like over-educated Liberals who’ve given up the body for the mind. They're deep in discussion, and I'm not sitting there a minute when they've already said the words “diversity” and “inclusivity” at least ten times. The man, an amorphous lump with frizzy white hair like Doc Brown (but with a bald spot on top like a clearing for indigenous natives), turns to the less-lumpish but still lumpy women and says, “It's our nature to be inclusive.” But not to be mansplained to, the women make assertive declarations, one after the next, about a mission statement, and how they have friends but not the friends they need, the good friends! The kind who donate 450 Grand friends! Then Doc Brown re-emerges and suggests that they have a… Drum roll, please… FUND RAISER!


As they go on about social justice, reeking of gravitas, I can’t help but notice that the three of them are all so… well, un-fuckable! Is this what old white liberal Democrats do after they've crossed over into un-fuckableness? Write mission statements and organize fundraisers? Then, after a job well-done, they disband by congratulating each other on a productive meeting. Although I didn't hear when the next meeting was set. Isn't this what people like this do at meetings? Decide when to have the next meeting?



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—copyright 2019, 2020 by Kevin Postupack, Kevin Kunundrum