Last night I’m in a record store, wearing a mask (as is required, by compliance courtesy of a club-like rope across the entrance), but I have it slightly pulled under my nose. Big store. Two floors. Probably fewer than five people in the whole place. I’m walking to the cashier and this midget dyke employee, with whom I’ve exchanged hundreds of hellos, says to me, as she’s motioning the action, “Just above your nose.”
A few things:
1. I wanted to break her back over my knee.
2. Young, SJW females are a big reason why the West is in dramatic decline.
3. I exist in Clown World.