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June 27th, 2109

Hartung Farms

Beaverton, OR

Adrienne and Paula had spoken to any and every newscaster that could be bothered to speak to them in the past few days, but it hadn’t done any good. In fact, it had harmed their case more than anything whenever Adrienne had opened her mouth to speak about her ‘preferred’ pronouns, as Paula had only exacerbated the situation by telling her daughter to be silent. That was even before the interview had begun, and each and every time from that moment on it had been like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

And he’d felt like laughing at every bit of it.

His daughters had asked him why the young woman was so angry at him, why Antifa members seemed so ready to riot over this matter, and he’d told them in all honesty what he believed.

“It doesn’t take much to rile up people that don’t feel the need to think for themselves.” It had been a simplistic explanation, and one that his wife had shaken her head at him for. But she hadn’t disagreed. Shyla knew how he felt about transgender and non-binary individuals. He would treat them with all due respect as people, but as to their ridiculous demands that trampled over the rights of others to their own freedom of speech he would not succumb to accusations of hate speech and other nonsense that some folks wanted to spew.

They had their opinions and he had his own. He simply preferred to think of the world in a way that it made sense, rather than succumb to the nonsense. The world was a confusing place on its own, there was no reason to make it any worse.

Sometimes all you could do was sigh and think of simpler times.

The End

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