Taylor's Major Malfunction

The goal is to get the human to put as many items in the shopping cart as possible. You don’t tell him or her this is the goal, obviously, because they’d know their will isn’t quite as free as they’d like to believe. So you make them think it was their idea. When shopping carts were first introduced to the market, actors were paid to pretend they were shopping. Monkey see, monkey do (we’ll get into racism later). This is how adoption was achieved. You don’t think this is the only psychological manipulation going on, do you? Humans tend to veer right. Bright colors are great mood uplifters. Good mood plus a big cart equals more consumption. Is it a coincidence that the fruit & vegetable section is always the first thing you see when you enter a grocery store? You already know where this is going.

Taylor (if you assume his/her/they gender, you will be canceled) wiped down the handle of the shopping cart with a product pulled from his/her/they’s designer purse, killing 99.9% of the invisible monsters. The n95 mask, covered by the second “Trust the Science” cloth mask, would stop the other 0.1%. Oh, and yes, Taylor was fully vaccinated with one booster shot, and his/her/they’s papers are available upon request. It took him/her/them two weeks to recover from the first booster shot, so he/she/they was going to wait a while before getting the second jab. Taylor really is a good human, and lives a meat free lifestyle. I mean, how barbaric is it that animals suffer so that we can clot up our own arteries? Don’t those toxic masculinity filled racists know what meat consumption does to the climate? Taylor is a vegetarian. While some argue that plants meet the definition of life, they’re not alive alive. Think unborn babies. Scientists will make the definitions align with Taylor’s personal value system, not to fret. 

Blueberries were the first item to enter Taylor’s cart.

Taylor was heeding the guidance given by his/her/they’s government funded therapist and was really focusing on mental health. The breaking point was nearly reached with four years of Orange Man running the country. Literally every major news network was in agreement that things couldn’t get much worse. Camaraderie could be found on every social media outlet, as Orange Man and his followers were silenced. Two minute broadcasts were no longer sufficient for rallying around a common enemy: the modern good human would watch the screen for hours, ensuring he, she, they, etc remained sufficiently angry at Orange Man at all times.

Typically we’d only have a single day to rid the country of the most authoritarian dictator to ever step foot into the ovular shaped office, denoted on the calendar as Election Day. One day is simply undemocratic, as you’ll soon learn. Some counties actually require proof of citizenship to vote (xenophobia). Some races don’t know how to get ID (racist). Some people must work throughout the entire hours of polling (classist). Some people cannot physically get to the polls (ableist). And on and on. This election cycle though, because Orange Man was so much worse than any president that preceded him, necessary measures were taken. Corporations poured funds into drop boxes and properly incentivizing poll workers. Good samaritans collected ballots from strangers and ensured they made it to the count. Ballots were printed and mailed to everyone, alive or dead. Voting dates were extended, both for pre and post election dates. Xenophoic, racist, classist, ableist Orange Man supporters were promptly removed from counting stations. Most importantly, the ballots were counted until the outcome was right. Anything less is a threat to our democracy. Starkly contrasted to last time, Taylor re salted the earth with tears of joy rather than the tears of pain cried four years ago.

Exit Orange Man, enter Potato Head.

The major news networks and social media quieted. Unlike Orange Man, the Potato Head could not be criticized. Plus, what was there to criticize? Orange Man, the authoritarian tyrant voted out of office, refused to force vaccination onto the population. Didn’t he see the videos of people dropping dead and hazmat suits coming from China (if you so much as think about calling it the China virus, you’ll be doxxed and canceled forever). Not Potato Head, though. We’d learn about side effects and efficacy of the mRNA therapy (aka vaccine) along the way. What we did know was that this vaccine required the participation of everyone, lest the non conforming deplorable non vaxxed infect the fully vaxxed. Potato Head really did prove to be the good human his constituency expected, and used his position of power to influence private businesses to require employees to be fully vaxxed as a condition of employment. Coercion is too strong of a word, and this was nothing like Jim Jordan followers drinking the kool aid.

Taylor felt funny in his/her/theys pants with all of this newfound obedience and submission. It’s difficult to say exactly what the outcome of the arousal and increased blood flow was due to the multiple bottom surgeries, but he/she/they changed his/her/they’s facial covering to “Love is love.” Since the news and social media had become boring, and at the behest of Taylor’s therapist, Taylor would aim high and achieve his purpose in life: social justice for all. Martin Luther King Jr and the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was a start, but it achieved the wrong outcome. It’s not about equality of opportunity, it’s about equity of outcome. That is, everyone should have exactly the same, regardless of individual effort. Taylor knows there are many victims out there who just don’t know it yet, and it is his/her/theys purpose to help identify them. And what is Taylor’s vessel of virtue, you ask? 

In most millennial fashion, Taylor would create an app.

Taylor lacked energy most days, but today he/she/they needed to really get after it. He/she/they needed to build an app so profound, it would lock Orange Man and his followers in a chest and cast it into the furthest depths of the sea. To be honest, Taylor didn’t really know what Orange Man stood for, only that it was bad. Taylor’s alarm went off at 10:00AM, and he/she/they only snoozed it twice. He/she/they ordered a soy latte to really boost energy levels, picked blueberries from the fridge, and read two articles about increasing productivity and building an app. Taylor knew that his/her/they didn’t have the technical knowledge needed to build the app— Taylor’s degree was in climate justice. After a most productive 1.5 hours, Taylor rewarded him/her/they self with a break. At about 6:00PM, Taylor decided he/she/they would wrap up the day with one final task of critical importance: a text message to his/her/they’s parents requesting funding to hire an engineer in India to build the app.

Now on a mission, Taylor only snoozed his/her/they’s 10:00AM alarm once the following morning. Rewarding him/her/themself, this morning’s soy latte now had two shots of espresso. Berries rotted and pans too dirty to cook the impossible meat, Taylor skipped breakfast. While waiting to see if funding would be approved, Taylor would begin brainstorming what exactly the app would do. Here’s the list he/she/they came up with:

1. Gender photo filters
2. Drag queen story hour calendar
3. Buy/sell used sex toys
4. Covid face covering boutique
5. Daily cow fart methane tracker
6. Drone live cam of trash island
7. Crowdsourced convervative watch list
8. Red flag gun law ideas
9. Daily inspirational quotes on how whites can be less racist
10. . . .

None of these ideas had the bite that Taylor was looking for. They were all so superficial, probably already existed, and would not achieve the levels of equity he/she/they aspired to. Taylor then set up a video call with his/her/they’s guru, RV Guru. RV Guru was a traveler, not a person as defined by the federal government, and was therefore not bound by the societal constraints placed upon most. Forced to downgrade from his recreational vehicle, RV Guru now calls a van off the interstate in Portland, Oregon, home. Many others like RV Guru became aware of this loophole in property tax avoidance, and a gypsy camp of four wheeled vehicles, tents, and other non permitted structures outlined the cityscape of this liberal utopia.

In a literal haze of smoke and dim lighting, RV Guru appeared on Taylor’s screen. He was only 10 minutes late, which was actually pretty good for RV Guru. Time is racist, you see, and showing up for meetings according to a schedule is a western construct, so Taylor wouldn’t come close to requesting a refund for this paid consultation. RV Guru was of the earth, and nothing was to be taken seriously. His open mouth, ongoing chuckling was reminiscent of Beavis & Butthead, which could put even the most anxious millennial at ease. The video latency was choppy, as the roadside commune all borrowed from just a few crowdfunded wifi networks.

Taylor (he/she/they): Hey RV Guru!

RV Guru: Hey dude, or uh, dudette? 

Taylor (he/she/they): Did you get the Venmo payment from my parents yet?

RV Guru: Uh, I think so. So young padawan, how can the Guru be of service today?

Taylor (he/she/they): My therapist told me that I should pursue something worthwhile. So I want to outdo Martin Luther King, Jr. Don’t get me wrong, black lives matter, but I mean, people are still poor and still refuse to use preferred pronouns. So I just want to, like, you know, make everything equitable. I’m going to create an app to end discrimination. I’m working on funding and outsourcing for an engineer, but I’m stuck on what the app should do.

RV Guru: Woah, dudette. Or shoot, dude? That’s killer.

Taylor (he/she/they): So, do you have any ideas of what app I should build?

RV Guru, still slack jawed, closed his eyes and transported to another world. Taylor watched in amazement, bewilderment. After three minutes of silence Taylor said, “Guru, are you OK?” RV Guru snapped back to this world, and his open mouthed, deer in the headlight look turned into a sly grin and narrowing of the eyes. The light bulb turned on, and was oh so luminescent. 

RV Guru: I’ve got it. 

Taylor (he/she/they): Really?! What is it?

RV Guru: You should build a dispensary app. It would, like, you know, tell everyone where the nearest dispensary is.

Taylor read so many articles on delivering difficult feedback. He/she/they could tapdance his/her/their way out of this without offending the Guru.

Taylor (he/she/they): Guru, that’s an interesting idea. I’m going to add it to my list. What else did you come up with?

RV Guru: Seriously, man. Woman? If everyone just smoked more, they’d stop being terrible people. That’s the app to make.

As RV Guru attempted to overcome Taylor’s objection of saying Google maps already shows nearby dispensaries, he/she/they noticed something troubling: RV Guru didn’t have his pronouns listed on the video call. Had Taylor been calling Guru by the wrong pronouns this whole time? Worse yet, did Guru not care about pronouns? Now it was Taylor’s idea light bulb that lit up, and glowed so brightly it shattered. Taylor said “Yeah, yeah. OK, thanks, Guru. I’ll talk to you soon.” and quickly ended the video conference call. 

Taylor had his app idea: an exhaustive identity generator.

Think about it. Gender pronouns can be added to social media, but why do we stop there? There are so many other identifiers that can and should be called out for emotional safety, but what about privilege? Taylor had taken so many college courses on social justice, he/she/they could map out the entirety of identity options. App users could then complete the questionnaire and their entire identity could be added automatically to all of their social media, job applications, financial institutions credit scoring, etc . . . Taylor had found the liberal holy grail: the key to cosmic justice.

With one sweeping motion of the arm, Taylor cleared space on his/her/their desk for deep work. Taylor grabbed an old notepad and began frantically mapping. OK, first things first. Sex, which is male or female. The app user will determine what a woman is, not anyone else. Now, more importantly, gender. This field will recommend 68 options (bigender, agender, cisgender, gender nonconforming, etc), but app users can write their own in because gender is infinite. 

And then Taylor happened upon the next stroke of genius: race and color. If sex and gender were fluid, why couldn’t race and color be? Isn’t it possible that God not only assigned a person the wrong sex at birth, but also the wrong color? It would be up to the individual to decide. 

Taylor had epiphany after epiphany. Height: taller people were highly correlated with success. Weight: fat phobia was an emerging outlet of bigotry. Income: how could we ever properly redistribute wealth and privilege if we couldn’t easily reference everyone’s income? Disabilities: able people should be forced to display their privilege. 

After hours of mapping, revising, editing, and researching, Taylor had the first prototype of his/her/they’s identity:

Taylor (white/tan/skin hex#f1c27d/Italian/Chilean/LatinX(ally)/NativeAmerican/Samurai/M2F/he/she/they/gender fluid/5’7”/obese/able bodied/mood depressive disorder/bipolar disorder/ADHD/ADD/$27,000 yr/mellinial/vegetarian/vegan aspiring)

Taylor literally collapsed after a continuous 2.5 hours of work. Something primitively deep inside of him/her/they knew that another soy latte was not going to provide the necessary nutrients needed for real energy and recovery. A trip to the grocery store was in order. But first, without even needing to consciously think about it, Taylor began scrolling on his/her/their phone. What he/she/they saw was ghastly, and had to be disinformation. Covid cases were higher under Potato Head, but the old death count ticker on every major news outlet had disappeared. The Taliban were now one of the best armed groups of people in the world with American weapons. The Ghost of Kiev was never real, and Russia was actually running special operations against US biolabs in Ukraine. The same conservative bigots who didn’t want to be coerced into experimental vaccination were turning the “my body, my choice” slogan back on the morally righteous pro abortionists. Potato Head’s daughter's diary had leaked, and an entry from when she was twelve described just how in the family the elites liked to keep it. The climate remained stable as the wealthy continued to buy homes on the ocean shore. Power plants required increasing amounts of coal to provide energy for electric cars.

In Chernobyl proportions, Taylor’s brain precipitously malfunctioned. 

All of his/her/their Stand with Ukraine, Me Too, anti second amendment beliefs were failing to hold up to reality, and the institutions that he/she/they believed in were failing to censor the emotionally harmful misinformation. Quickly powering down the phone, he/she/they made his/her/their way to the grocery store. Unable to afford an electric vehicle, Taylor’s gas powered car beeped, alerting the operator that the car was nearly out of gas. Coasting into the gas station on fumes, the radio described reports of Russian troops set to do bi annual training in Nicaragua. Taylor could only buy one gallon of gas as prices had tripled since Orange Man, and he/she/they needed to save some cash for food. So Taylor abandoned the vehicle and went on foot. This was a scene out of a horror movie.

Shoulders slumped, four day neckbeard stubble sprouted, not a sign of nutrition to be found. Taylor laboriously grabbed his/her/their cart without disinfecting it. He/she/they didn’t even glance at the blueberries, just shuffled by. Taylor’s mind was racing.

If those reports of Russia entering Central America were true, was it possible that Taylor’s open borders, anti gun beliefs actually left the US susceptible to easy invasion? If more laws would stop mass shootings, why don’t we just make murder illegal? If Taylor released his/her/their app, would he/she/they actually have any comrades left? I mean, could there be a downside to judging people solely off of immutable characteristics while ignoring individual merit? And why did the news keep telling Taylor how the US had never been stronger, but everyone was poorer and more miserable than he had ever seen in his/her/their life?

As Taylor coasted past the pastas and canned goods on his/her/their human powered fumes, he/she/they saw an older lady of about 75 pushing her cart. Modestly displayed on her navy blue shirt was an American flag. She was at peace, warm, and full of vitality. He/she/they had flashbacks of old civic classes in school, the amendments, and the words in the Constitution: “We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal . . .”

For the first time in as long as he/she/they could remember, Taylor smiled at the older lady. He/she/they then picked up the biggest piece of red meat steak on the shelf.