Fighting the Man Who’s Fighting The Man

NemesisHave you ever had a nemesis? I have. I’ve had many nemeses.

Almost all of my nemeses (it is “nemeses,” I looked it up, don’t bother) came during college. You know the kid who would sit in front of every lecture and makes dumb jokes to the professor and asks stupid questions and occasionally look around the classroom with his big, punchable smile? He was my nemesis.

I don’t think any of my nemeses ever knew they were my nemeses. They didn’t even know my name because I never actually confronted one. I just sat there and glared and stewed.

That all changed the day I met Vincent.

I first came across Vincent on July 3. I remember the day because it was the day before a holiday weekend — always a highly underrated day. The day before the holiday weekend is great because no work ever gets done, everybody is happy, you sometimes get to sneak out of work early, and most importantly, the roads are empty.

So you can imagine my dismay when I ran right into a traffic jam on my way home from work. And this wasn’t just any traffic jam — cars were stopped for miiiiiiles. It was worse than a snowstorm. As I crept along the highway, I kept looking for the accident. But there were no flashing lights, no police and no report on the radio.

Finally, after 25 minutes, I saw the entire reason for the holdup.

Overpass for Obama's Impeachment

Two idiots standing on a bridge holding “Impeach Obama” signs.

I am all for standing up to The Man, but it was difficult for me to imagine the series of events that would have to occur for two hastily constructed cardboard signs over a random freeway in Northeast Ohio to bring about the first ever impeachment to succeed in the removal of the President of the United States of America (Nixon resigned before he could get impeached, I looked it up, don’t bother). I was hot and bothered, but after 10 minutes, I forgot all about it.

Until the following Thursday.

The following Thursday, traffic was even worse. I started wondering about an accident again before remembering the chuckleheads with the signs. Sure enough, a half hour later, there they were. Joined by two more idiots. They had started a movement, and even from 30 feet below, I could see they were more than proud of themselves.

When I got home, Deserae asked the wrong question.

“Why are you late?”

“I’LL TELL YOU WHY I’M LATE!”

After my 10-minute rant, I started sleuthing on the computer. I found a Facebook page for the Ohio chapter of “Overpass for Obama’s Impeachment.” Then I found the page’s administrator – a gentleman named Vincent.

A gentleman who would become my nemesis.

Vincent’s Facebook profile picture.

Vincent’s Facebook profile picture.

Over the next week, I became obsessed with Vincent. I found his pictures. I read every page of his home tiling business’s website. I constantly refreshed his Facebook page.

From what I could gather, Vincent had issues with:

  • President Obama (obvs)
  • Police
  • The IRS
  • Blacks
  • Mexicans
  • Friends
  • Family

He posted offensive things. He posted beyond offensive things.

Then he posted this: “Just sitting here wishing the KKK WOULD DO THEIR JOB ALREADY!!!!”

Vincent was a horrible person.

That week, I fantasized about ways I could bring him to financial, emotional and mental ruin. Like all of my past nemeses, those plans stayed in my head.

That all changed the following Thursday when I found myself in traffic again.

When I got home, I walked right past Deserae.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“I’M NOT HUNGRY!!!”

I stomped into the living room and picked up my weapon of choice – the keyboard. As a writer and a former salesperson, I feel like I am above average at writing words that change people’s minds. So I sat for a half hour crafting my finest work – not an angry diatribe, but rather a thoughtful appeal to a fellow human being.

This is what I wrote:

Hi Vincent,

I found you on the Overpasses for Obama’s Impeachment page on Facebook and it looks like you’re the organizer for the Sheldon Road event, so I just wanted to send you a quick email.

I’m not sure if the goal of your movement is to change people’s minds or convince them to campaign for Obama’s impeachment, but I think that causing traffic to back up for miles may not be the most effective way to go about it. Every time you guys have been on the Sheldon Road overpass, I’ve sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic starting at W. 140th for about 30 minutes. That means everyone who saw your signs had just sat in traffic for 30 minutes on their way home to their families, and saw that you’re the reason for it. Agitating people after a long day at work and then trying to convince them to support your cause seems like it wouldn’t produce great results.

I wanted to let you know that I’m a Republican and wouldn’t be upset if Obama were to be impeached, so don’t think I’m against your cause. However, I just wanted to give you the perspective from the motorists and ask that you consider other ways to get your point across. Put up signs in the middle of the day or on a weekend when you won’t cause a traffic standstill (if it’s a weekend, you may even get more people to come to the bridge). If you want to reach a big crowd, go downtown before an Indians game. You’d even get to talk to some people. Harness social media. All I’m saying is that if you inconvenience people by making them sit in standstill traffic, you’re very likely doing more to hurt your cause than help it.

Just asking you to do to others like you’d have them do to you. Thanks for your time and passion!

Dustin Brady

After I clicked send, I sat back, super proud of my work. I called Deserae over to read the masterpiece.

“Mmhmmm,” she said when she finished. “Yeah, that’s really good, hon.”

But while she was talking, I noticed that she was giving me the same type of smile you’d probably give someone who tells you that he’s going to convince people to impeach the President with his cardboard sign.

I noticed that she was giving me the same type of smile you’d probably give someone who tells you that he’s going to convince people to impeach the President with his cardboard sign.

“What, you don’t think he’ll listen?”

“Ummmm, well I would…” she said while I glared at her. “…But, ya know, he kind of seems like a crazy person.”

“We’ll see.”

A few hours later, we saw.

Hi Dustin! Thanks for your e-mail!

The fact that we are “Overpasses for Obama’s Impeachment” kind of commits us to our locations. Any attention is good attention, and if we make people angry then they’re going to be talking about us. Hopefully it inspires them to do some of their own research, and they realize they should join us. My opinion is that if Obama is not stopped now, soon they will neither have jobs nor a home that is truly their private property to go home to, so a short delay is not really much of an inconvenience when seen in perspective.

Judging by the response from the motorists, less than 1% do not want us up there. Most start to smile when they get close enough to read or signs, some honk and wave, very few flip us the bird, and yours is the only actual direct response from thousands of people. Promptly after every protest our numbers grow.

I sincerely appreciate your contacting me. I respect your opinion, but for now I will continue my efforts towards restoring our country to her former glory.

Vincent

I lost my mind.

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO CALL IT OVERPASS FOR OBAMA’S IMPEACHMENT! IT’S A STUPID NAME! FIVE PEOPLE ARE DOING IT! JUST CHANGE THE NAME!”

“I know.”

“LESS THAN 1% DON’T WANT YOU UP THERE?! HOW DO YOU EXPECT THEM TO TELL YOU?! WITH ROCKET LAUNCHERS?!”

“I know.”

“FORMER GLORY. I’LL SHOW YOU FORMER GLORY.”

“Can we go to bed?”

The next morning, I started my rebuttal. It was angry. It was snarky. It compared his group to the Westboro Baptist Church.

It petered out after the fourth sentence.

I just couldn’t work up the emotion necessary to keep the argument going. I wanted to – I really, really wanted to – but I got caught up with other things, and the email never left my drafts folder.

The next Thursday, I left work a little early and braced myself for traffic. But the traffic never came. Same thing the next Thursday, and the Thursday after that.

That’s when I realized Vincent and I had something in common. We had both fallen victim to The Man’s most dangerous weapon – the one thing that has destroyed more freedom fighters than all of the world’s wars combined.

Sorry Vincent, we’re both just lazy I guess.

LIFE LESSON #42

Fighting The Man is a lot harder than fighting the man who’s fighting The Man.

1 Comment Fighting the Man Who’s Fighting The Man

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