Make 1984 Fiction Again
I was just walking home after looking for some local homeless women (as per my project). I’m wearing a shirt that reads: MAKE 1984 FICTION AGAIN (see photo above).
Whenever I wear this shirt, I get a bunch of “nice shirt” comments. So, I promised myself that the next time it happened, I’d ask that person what the shirt meant to them.
Today, as I walked past the local precinct, the young white police officer out front smiled and said, “Nice shirt!” I said “thanks” and followed through on my plan. “I’m curious,” I asked him. “What does this shirt mean to you?”
The cop, maybe 25 or 26 years old, seemed surprised by my question and took a moment to think. As he did, another dude walked past us, pointed at my chest, and said: “Nice shirt!”
Once that guy had passed, the cop leaned closer to me and partially covered his mouth as if afraid of having his lips read. “I’m not allowed to get into any political talk,” he said sheepishly.
(insert sad trombone here)
P.S. That whirring sound you hear right now is Orwell — spinning in his grave at 1,984 RPM.