On my fourth day in Hell with the lid off I was visited by three young ladies, all of whom were wearing a hijab (hi-jahb). They all smiled and spoke to me in English that was so heavily accented I couldn't understand a word they said. Drug-induced intrigue led me to ask where they were from, and again I couldn't understand them.
An older lady, a nurse of some stripe, arrived to take my vitals and ask pointless question. She had a younger assistant in tow. When I asked what the three were wearing by way of headgear, the older lady told me it was a head job. At least that's what she'd heard it called by women who escaped to the U.S. and taken the thrice-damned thing off and thrown it into a dumpster. 'Head job', she told me, because that's what it was.
The younger woman disagreed, saying it was a hijab. She explained that the three were very nice and were student nurses fulfilling their training requirements. I told her that they should work on their English, as I couldn't understand a word they said. She then accused me of throwing them out of my room, mentioning that I had every right to do that as I could decline treatment from anyone I chose, not that there was ever a plethora of people to chose from.
Case in point, I didn't throw them out; I couldn't understand them. I'd run into an SJW protecting her special little snowflakes, and you can just guess at the service I'd get from this human hate machine and her comrades.
Big Mike had warned me to be careful of what I said and did in public, as the Left has agents everywhere, and their motto is Never Forgive, Never Forget.
On a better note, tonight I'm headed out to hear the Blue Cats play. I'll be in good company, and may eat a slice of pizza or two.
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