Nancy and the Bicycle Riding Trump-loving MAGA Maniacs
Nancy had always been averse to exercise, preferring the sedentary life of indoors, where her only cardiovascular activity involved walking to and from her car. However, her doctor’s apocalyptic warning that she might as well be dead if she didn’t quit smoking and get moving finally got her thinking: “Maybe I should give walking a shot. It’s just one foot in front of the other, right?”
As she turned 65, Nancy chose the picturesque Thrush Creek Trail, a paved path along the river surrounded by lush forest. The pavement was a huge selling point; she didn’t want to step into a snake hole. She knew snakes didn’t dig holes but squatted in those dug by other animals. Regardless, Nancy didn’t like snakes and was sure they didn’t like her.
Sporting her new running shoes – well, walking shoes for now – Nancy set off on her first-ever walk. The weather was perfect, and the trail was inviting. However, her peaceful stroll was soon interrupted by a bicycle horn’s shrill ‘beep-beep’. As the first cyclist zoomed by, wearing a MAGA hat and a Trump 2024 shirt, Nancy reluctantly moved to the side. She suppressed her disdain for the political attire and focused on her walk instead.
Unfortunately, the ‘beep-beeps’ and their red-hatted riders continued interrupting her walk. Nancy realized that these daredevil cyclists were a genuine threat to her well-being. “Why can’t they have their own space?” she thought, frustrated with the intrusion.
Exasperated, she stopped, pulled out a cigarette, and lit up. Inhaling the comforting blue smoke, she rationalized that smoking was far safer than dodging the Trump-loving, spandex-wearing, two-wheeled maniacs on the trail.
With a renewed sense of purpose and nicotine in her system, Nancy strolled back to her car, puffing away and ignoring the cacophony of beeps. As far as she was concerned, smoking was much less hazardous than walking on a bike-infested trail. The lesson here? Sometimes, it’s better to pick your poison – and for Nancy, that meant choosing her trusty pack of cigarettes over the high-speed gauntlet of politically charged cyclists.