The Freeport Community Center's biddies have spoken: "We don't want your kind here." I got that message two days ago via a lackey of the Director herself--who by the way is a complete stranger I've never even seen. Now, wondering exactly what kind is my kind, I looked it up to see just what a kind is, and found: "A person or thing being of a particular character or class."Aha! So it's not necessarily my being a right-leaning-liberal, pot-smoking, middle-class, wisecracking, sarcastic New York Jew like I feared. Instead, the sticking point could be my character, which is to say my unswerving allegiance to the truth at all costs, that deems me unfit company. Well, I'm used to that, believe me.
This whole brouhaha began when I wrote in a blog, which is to say a personal diary that answers to me (and Google) alone, that their ringleader was "snooty." Well guess what--she is snooty, and with good reason. In fact, Mabel has more class in her little pinky than the lot of them springing to her defense have in their lumpy bodies all squished together. She's rich and she doesn't try to hide it. It shows in her decidedly stylish attire, a rare thing here in the looming shadow of the L. L. Bean campus. She travels to exotic places and tells you all about it. Her house is stunning, filled with fine art and antiques, a jewel in the picture-perfect seaside village that could be named South Snootport. And by the way, there are worse epithets than "snooty." I looked that up too and found out it means "snobbish or exclusive." But I'm betting my firstborn that Mabel would rather be called snooty than dowdy, dumpy, frumpy or boring, none of which apply to her in the least but all of which aptly describe her outraged apologists.
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