Today Brad Hoylman-Sigal was being sworn in at Alice Tully Hall, so I pulled out a sweater dress and headed into Manhattan on my day off. Despite my best efforts at dodging the cats before I left, they had managed to get some hairs on my dress and I was busy brushing them off when an older middle eastern man asked me where I was going. When I explained that it was the swearing in of the Manhattan Borough President, he said "so you're involved in politics." I explained that this is not really about politocs exactly, that I run a nonprofit and that relationships with local politicians are important both for fundraisinng and for help with other things.
"Do you think Trump thinks of all this himself?" he asks. "No," I reply. "I think ideas are being fed to him." "Who do you think is telling him what to do?" he asks. "I think it's a combination," I say. "There are the people who wrote Project 2026, which is he definitely following, but there is also Netanyahu and probably Putin. "And Epstein," he says. "Yeah, he is definitely trying to keep people from focusing on those files," I say. "No," he says, "Epstein is alive in Israel. Rich people never really go to jail." This is getting a little weird.
"They have video of raping children and sacrificing children and drinking blood," he says, and while they were clearly sexually abusing underage girls, the sacrificing children and drinking blood sounds like antisemitic propaganda to me, and I'm getting uncomfortable. "Blackmail," says the guy, "that’s why he listens to Netanyahu and gets involved in a war that has nothing to do with him. That’s how they manipulate him. I worry that a sick person like him if he feels desperate about the Epstein files he might say,'I am going to Hell I might as well take humanity with me and use the nukes."
"The Bush family, the Clinton family, they all go back to the Freemasons and the Illuminati," he says. "So I think satan is running the show. The bible falsely called him a fallen angel. Angels do only godly things. In the Middle East we call them DJinn, those creatures that god created before Adam from smokeless fire. Satan was the chief of them and he used to be a good guy but then he got jealous when god made Adam.’
Things are getting weird enough now that I am relieved when I arrive. A cop with a german shepherd looks in my bag, a volunteer with a table gives me a program and a tote bag and I find a seat in the crowded theater. Brad's younger daughter and her scout troop come out in their little brownie uniforms and lead the room in the Pledge of Allegiance, which I don't remember. Then the Young People's Chorus sings, first America The Beautiful and then a medly of NY songs. An assortment of politicians speak, and then Tisch James swears him in with his hand on the bible that his younger daughter has to be coached to hold up high enough that he can reach.
In his speech he talks about the need for affordable housing, and how queer kids should not feel alone, and how we need to protect our community members from ICE, and how trans people are being scapegoated and attacked. Eventually, the event ends, and I go get on the train.
Coming home two teen girls are standing by my shoulder. “My uncle does electrical engineering for the MTA” says the very pale one. “Really?” says her friend, “can he help me get an internship with the MTA?” “I don’t know if you would want that," says the first girl “it’s very racist.” "It’s an INTERNSHIP," says the other girl. "Ok," says the first girl, "just don’t tell them you’re gay." "I’m not gay,"says the other girl, calmly. "Ok, bi, just don’t tell them you’re bi," says the first. "I’m not gay," says the other girl again. "Pan?" says the first girl, confused. "I’m not gay at all," says her friend. "Oh, I thought..." says the first girl, flustered. "It’s fine," says her friend.
When I get off at 95th St, a voice is saying over the intercom, "Transit police, your assistance is needed on track 1," but nothing seems to be going on. I don't stick around to find out, I just head home to where Sapphire has ruined the slow reintroduction plan by busting out of the spare bedroom. While I eat my dinner, she is on the table, harassing me for tastes of things that cats definitely do not eat. Smokey passes by, gives a brief hiss, but it doesn't seem like his heart is really in it. When I come upstairs, Sapphire follows me back to the room where her sister is still playing by the rules and, remembering her food bowl is in there, goes back in.
Comments
Post a Comment