“Merry Christmas”, or "How I became a car thief".
Some background is necessary for full understanding of what went on between my brother Murray and me. He had been an occasional visitor to my acreage and sometimes brought me food or candy. One time he gave me his used Aerostar van which despite its age was a very good vehicle for me. He was also a bigot which I really hated. He constantly condemned indigenous people and was wilfully irrational about justifying his bigotry.
He would, for example, tell me about how horrible Canadian Indians were because "lol, the losers are asking for compensation because they were WWII veterans!". I explained to him, it was not that they were asking for something other veterans had not gotten, it was a disgraceful action of unfairness by the Canadian government. At the outbreak of WWII, many native Canadians offered to fight. The government told them, "If you want to join the Canadian army, you have to renounce all your rights as a Native Canadian." This was ironically called "The Enfranchisement Act". Upon returning home after the war, Native Canadians were denied the soldier's pension white soldiers got. The government told them they were not entitled to a pension because they were indigenous people with special rights - the very same rights they gave up by joining the Canadian Armed Forces.
So, clearly a grotesque injustice to Canadian veterans of WWII. So, what does my bigoted brother say to that? He bizarrely responds that it was not an injustice because "Different rules for people who joined at different times". Me, being caught off guard by the absurd retort, didn't know what to make of it immediately so I just sat silent and let him think "I sure told her!". Ever since I've been angry that I didn't think quickly enough to respond "NO, it wasn't different rules for people who joined at different times, it was different rules for Indians and white people regardless of when you joined - the Indians were shafted by systemic government racism and you're using that as an excuse to smear them."
One of my brother's favourite refrains when complaining at length about Canadian Indians was "There's no racism against Indians, they're just bad people!". There was a shootout near his hometown between two RCMP officers and a criminal. One RCMP officer, a native Canadian, was shot and killed along with the suspect. I said to Murray "You hate Indians so much and here one died to serve and protect you recently." His response was "The crook shot the right RCMP officer - the Indian". And yet he believed native Canadians aren't discriminated against, and certainly not by him.
As I learned recently in Professor Robert Altemeyer's stunning (to me, your mileage may vary) seven chapters on his research into Right Wing Authoritarianism, people like my brother are strongly driven to believe falsehoods about people they consider outsiders to their self-defined "group of good people" and take delight in punishing them. They don't believe in equality and believe the wealthy deserve preferential treatment by society even when they break the law. They hold contradictory beliefs in their minds by severely compartmentalizing their beliefs. So, on one hand they tell you sincerely "There's no racism against Indians" and several minutes later express delight at the knowledge that when one of two innocent cops are shot it is the Native Canadian one who died.
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Murray and I also had long arguments about treating LGBT people right. I tried sincerely to explain why fairness has to come first and he disingenuously disagreed with me, on one occasion saying "Whoever has the power to force their will on others is morally right." I said, "So, if I have the physical strength to steal a purse from a little old lady, there is nothing morally wrong with me doing so?". He said "That's right". When I later mentioned his insane definition of morality to our family, he again caught me off guard by saying "But if you steal a purse from a little old lady, I'm morally right if I can overpower and punish you for it." Years later I am again left thinking "If only I'd responded "Why would you want to punish me for stealing that purse if by your own definition of morality I was doing nothing wrong? Might makes right, you said.".
The French call that "Stairwell humour" - the witty response you think of as you've left the room and argument and are ascending the stairs to your bedroom. This is why I never like to argue with people in person - domineering people like my brother brush aside logic and rationality and through aggressive B.S. create the false appearance that they're right. Like Trump. Like 25-40% of the population according to the research into Right Wing Authoritarianism. Like Montgomery County Maryland religious trolls Wyatt and Regina Hardiman, he would rather agree to absurdities than admit his line of reasoning doesn't make sense. Its scary.
On one other occasion he tried to justify not letting gays and lesbians marrying by playing what he obviously thought was the ultimate Trump card: "Its crazy for gays and lesbians to want to take part in a religious ceremony." (emphasis his). I went with "Marriage is not a religious ceremony, "Matrimony" is your Catholic religious ceremony. Over the years I've wished I'd said "So atheists shouldn't be allowed to marry?!" or "What about the 70% of gays and lesbians who are christians?!". It was obvious that he and his bigoted friends discussed why gays shouldn't be allowed to marry and someone came up with the "gem" that "Of course gays and lesbians shouldn't want to marry, its a religious ceremony". No doubt they all fatuously slapped each other on the back over this "ultimate "argument they came up with.
So, back to how I became a car thief. Its December 23rd, 2002ish. Murray comes to my acreage to take me to our mother's place for Christmas. As usual, I pack a pipe and a small amount of marijuana so I can get high a few times while away. On the drive we get into our usual argument about gay marriage and fairness. He goes from saying gays don't deserve to marry because "its a choice" to "Don't worry Priya, someday they'll make a pill to cure your sexual attraction to "the wrong sex". I don't think quickly enough to say "If its a choice, how are they going to make a pill to cure it?" There's that Right Wing Authoritarianism personality again - compartmentalizing contradictory beliefs so one never has to resolve the contradiction.
We stop in small town on the way and I point out a silvery purple toy car and how much I like the colour. He responds in an intentionally loud voice so others can hear "Fag colour!". And then makes another loud comment about me being attracted to men. I'm not out at the time, so he knows this makes me uncomfortable.
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We get back in the car and drive again, arguing some more, me sincerely, he disingenuously and regularly punctuating his irrational arguments with a happy sounding "I'm just trying to piss you off." as though that excuses the unjust positions he takes. I'm baffled by this and instead of asking why he wants to "piss me off", I reply sarcastically "As long as you have worthwhile goals..." I, not understanding at the time that not everyone is sincere and honest like me about these issues or believes in equality. As we drive, the conversation gets more angry and I mention how unfair it is that abuse like he's dishing out causes depression and drives people like me to suicide.
He laughs at that and says he couldn't care less if being tormented by people like him drives me to suicide, if he comes out to my acreage and finds me dead he'll pour gasoline on my body, burn it and go celebrate. I say, maybe thats not a good idea, perhaps your attitude pushes people like me to want to take some anti-gay bigots with us when we go. I say, if I can kill one or maybe 20 people, maybe I'd like to do that to get back at an unjust society. He makes some snide and dismissive comment, laughing again. I, baffled by his attitude and angry say "I can take you with me too."
Murray bursts out an angry "That's some bullshit right there, blah, blah, blah!". So, we sit in silence, as he drives. Ten minutes goes by and I think "I lost my cool, what I said wasn't right and so I say to him "I"m sorry I said I can take you with me". He clenches his teeth and says nothing for the next couple of hours.
We get to another small town just before my mother's place and he says "I've got to call in an order for this business" as he pulls into a pizza place. I wait in the car and several minutes later he comes back and we complete the drive to Humboldt. Later he tells me he had called my doctors office to tell him I'd "threatened his life" and to ask what to do" We get out of the car and enter my mother's apartment. Murray looks at her and says "I've got to go get gas.". It never occurs to me at the time that its a little odd for him not to have gotten gas while we were driving through town together instead of waiting to drop me off first. Turns out he was making a second call to my doctors office and although he later told me he had talked to my doctor, my doctor said, no, he had only talked to his receptionist.
I go out on my mother's balcony to smoke some weed and Murray returns. He strolls up to me and says. "You've got two choices. You threatened my life, you can come with me to talk to a doctor about your psychotic state or you can talk to the police.” I’m crapping my pants at the thought of him calling the police, as I have marijuana on me and several plants growing back at my acreage Murray knows about. With trembling hands I quickly go flush the small bit of marijuana I have on me down the toilet, feeling stressed because some of the smaller bits stick to the side of the bowl after flushing . I then agree to see the doctor he’s made an “emergency” appointment with.
At the doctor’s office, the doctor asks me what he can do for me. I say “Nothing, I’m here under duress, ask that moron over there.”. Murray announces “Priya is a paranoid schizophrenic” (he had often said to me prior to this “You’re faking being mentally ill.” (despite my a number of stays in the psychiatric ward) and I have a problem with her sexuality.”. I righteously snapped back “Exactly, just remember that, its YOUR problem, not mine.”
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The doctor says to Murray “You know her personal family doctor would be better at handling this, why don’t you talk to him?”. So, we get back in the car and drive the two hours or so to Regina, a city of about 200,000 people, forty miles from my home. He “escorts” me to the emergency room and we go up to the admitting nurse. He launches into how I’m a paranoid schizophrenic and I threatened his life and so on. The nurse looks at me and says “What can we do for you?” I again answer, nothing, I’m here under duress. She says “We’re very busy, its going to be as long as five hours before anyone can see her this evening.” Murray looks at her and says “She’s staying to wait and see the doctor (not my doctor) and I’m leaving (he also lives about 30 miles from Regina).”.
So, I said "I’m not waiting five hours to go through this again and hope you come back at some point to get me, I’m leaving." He says “Good, and leaves”.
Its about 7:00 PM and -20 or so out and I’m stuck in the city with no way home and about $3 in my pocket. What to do, what to do....I’ll walk to my ex-wifes’ place and ask her if I can spend the night until I figure out a way home. Seems like a couple hours later of walking, I’m at her door, asking if I can spend the night. She angrily says “No Way!” and I leave. She would later tell me that if I had explained the situation instead of asking to spend the night she would have given me the $100 it cost for a cab ride home.
Now what? ....I have my indigenous friends I often visit, maybe someone’s home there and will let me spend the night. So, off I go again, perhaps another couple of hours of walking in the -20 C weather. Halfway there I come to an old skating rink. One of the side doors is open 8 inches or so but chained to keep it opening further than that. Warm air is coming out the door. I think “I can sleep here for the night.”. I try to squeeze in through the opening, but its not quite big enough for me to get through.
I continue walking and eventually get to Donny’s house. Thank god he’s home. He welcomes me in and says off course I can spend the night. He offers me some of the high alcohol beer he's been drinking. I, not having had a drink for 15 years or so, think "screw it" and I say yes. He pours perhaps four ounces in a mug and I drink it, finding the taste of the warm high alcohol beer disgusting. Soon, to my surprise I get a warm comfortable feeling in my belly and feel a pleasant little buzz. Later, he’s very careful to tell me 3 or four times when we go to bed “You’re sleeping on the couch, I’m sleeping in this bedroom”. He tells me the night before Dean pissed all over the couch. I’m not fussy at this point, I sleep and get up about 7:00 am and think I’ll try walking/hitchhiking the 40 miles home.
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I leave and start walking across the city, its still very cold. I get towards the east side of the city, several miles later and my legs are sore, I’m cold and I start to doubt my ability to make it the 40 miles home. I think, "I can hitchhike and if I feel I can't make it I can jump in front of a semi, life has never been much fun anyway". Then I realize, that'll be fine for the first ten miles on the highly travelled Number 1 Highway, but I probably won't get that chance when I turn onto the little driven Highway 48 for the remaining 30 miles. I think "I don't mind dying instantaneously, but I don't much care for the idea of slowly freezing to death." A few minutes later I see a man get out of a truck and go into a building. He leaves the truck running. I pull down my balaclava over my face, and jump in the truck and am gone with him running after me.
I make the first right turn and two blocks later come to a traffic light. I wait for it to turn green, it does and I accelerate away from the light. I glance in the rear view mirror and see two police cars coming up fast behind me. I know the odds of escaping at this point are very low, so I pull over in a gas station parking lot and the two cop cars pull in and the cops order me to get out of the truck. I pull on the door handle and nothing happens. I look at the bewildering array of buttons and things on this new truck and can’t figure out how to open the door. I pull in vain on the door handle some more and then I yell to the cops “I can’t figure out how to open the door!”. One leans forward and opens the door for me. They would later falsely testify in court “She refused to exit the vehicle.”.
At the police station, I was interviewed and the cop said to me “We can see you stole this car because you just wanted to get home, we know you’re not a bad person. I said “Yeah.” with a sheepish grin. To my dismay, in court later that day, the cop’s testimony suddenly became “She said “I just wanted to get home””. So, yeah, not happy about the cops dishonesty there, even if it was a small lie, seems like standard operating procedure to me.
Later in the day I'm herded into a van with another perp and we go to court. We get to the courthouse and I'm standing around waiting. A couple of indigenous men are looking at me and grinning, making sexual overtures. I've seen Lockup on MSNBC and I know what this is about. I'm in the men's part of the jail and I'm obviously a pretty feminine looking "man". One of the men leering at me is incredibly good looking. Not too many men make me look and go "Wow!", but this guy did. I gather my attraction shows on my face because Mr. Skinny looks at Mr. Handsome, laughs and says "I think she likes you!"
I'm feminine looking but I'm still lifting weights a bit and I like my odds against him in a fight, even if I have to take on his skinny friend as well at the same time. The two overtly friendly men are lead out of the courtroom. Not too long later I'm lead into a holding cell with several other people and the same two men are in there. The good looking one looks at me, stands up and grins broadly. He starts moving slowly towards me and the door to the holding cell opens again and someone escorts him out of the room. I guess I won't be fighting at this moment.
About 2:00 PM I get out of jail with a notice to appear for a later court date. The five hours I spent in the cell seemed like two days, its soooo boring! Someone had actually written "so boring..." on the cell wall, another had written "...we, who are not like others." and I say to myself "I'm with you there guy." Once out, I think to call a former co-worker at work and to good fortune, he answers at work although its December 24th and generously offers me a ride home.
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