Stories of bars (4 of 4): More racism...

Like a week later I was biking on a Sunday and stopped through a bar.

The (white) (young) (female) bartneder had recently moved there from Missouri, and down the bar, it turned out, was her boyfriend she had moved in with and the (older) (female) (Appalachian) owner.

I ended up chit-chatting with them, and me and the younger folks had started talking about fun things to do in the city.

Since the bartender's boyfriend was into religious stuff, I brought up the one activist (white) priest who lives in an all-black parish in the city, and said they should go to mass there, since it would blow their mind.

Immediately, the the (older) (female) (Appalachian) owner got all withdrawn and looked suspiciously at me, and asked me what I thought of him.

I said he was too charismatic for his own good and there was something weird about his parish, but he latched on to a lot of the right issues, like how some major chain stores had had toy guys in Easter baskets, and he said it was inappropriate and they should withdraw them from sales.

"He's a rabble-rouser, that's what I think," she said, "He just likes to be on TV."

Then, she explained that the guns were brightly-colored anyways, and they didn't harm anyone.

An (older) (Appalachian) (male) friend of hers then sat down, and he agreed that the priest was a rabblerouser.