Maybe August 2016 I was waiting in line at LAX. Which, if you've never done it, don't; it's a sea of ill-prepared humanity attempting to queue up for inspection by the most hateful, jaded and bitter people on earth. Anyway, way in the back of that queue was a fat kid from the Inland Empire wearing a MAGA hat.

He couldn't keep his eyes off the crowd. He was meeting everyone's gaze. There is nothing that little shit wanted more than to own the libs. He wanted someone to validate his hatred of Los Angeles, that liberal shithole, so that he could tell all his buddies tales of daring-do and rhetorical mastery. He needed someone to jump-start his self-started career as a crusader for Real America.

A couple people gave him dirty looks. Most people ignored him. Because yeah. We get it. Your values are anathema to us and ours are to you. Ain't nobody there gonna gain any wisdom from any interaction 'cuz we've all got our spurs on. What did he take from his adventure at LAX? Probably that the burgers are expensive and TSA is surly. Maybe that we were all too pussy to take on him, a chubby 16-year-old from Indio or whatever. That's fine.

You cannot destroy ideas through violence. This is something the Right has never understood while the Left grasps intrinsically - ideas are destroyed through parody and mockery and the minute you have to stop and get out of your car to engage, you've already lost. Your beef isn't that he's dressing like a Proud Boy it's that he's thinking like a Proud Boy and the more persecuted he is, the more he'll cling to it. Mormons don't send their kids on Mission in order to recruit more mormons. They send their kids on Mission to clinch them as Mormons because there is nothing that makes you feel as alone as having the world turn on you. Spend a few months having doors slammed in your face and you will know who your true friends are.

A lone Proud Boy in Seattle doesn't need his ass kicked. He needs to have coffee with a black drag queen.