Drive past the prison on the way to work.
There was a riot there years ago. Inmates set fires. State police retook the grounds with horses, teargas, and shotguns. An elderly neighbor of mine still keeps the police radio scanner on all day in the background while he tinkers in his basement.
Merging into traffic. Waiting for the oil temperature in my car to rise so I can turn on the heater.
I have unpaid legal research to do today. At this stage I pay them for the opportunity–to go to school, and hopefully to demonstrate to prospective employers that I am worth hiring.
It’s fortunate that courts of law fascinate me, even as influenced as they can be these days by fashionable notions of social justice. I’m a nerd enough to enjoy researching and appreciating the law and its jargon for themselves.
Sometimes I think we shitlords exaggerate the current degree of the conflict.
I put myself in a quiet rage against social justice warriors and their hypocrisy–against the forced imposition of ungrateful, underperforming, chronically-complaining minority students and coworkers. But for the most part my daily interactions are cordial, peaceful, and pleasant.
On the other hand cute conflicts and decisions prepare themselves over long periods of time and then come to ahead quickly and suddenly.
I look up in the mountains where my ancestors worked in the mines and where white people still live.
And where we will go when it becomes unsafe.