The HNMNBM party for 1.1 or 1.2 DONE
Traveler was young, in school, already had his own business. Night after night on the ranch, he had wondered how to convert the desert scrub waste, a nuisance that fed wildfires and ended up as global warming CO2 into something useful. Months of experimentation eventually led to a raw form of carbon fiber, black, unable to accept dye, but just as light and strong as the "good stuff".
With help from his friend Gizmo, an illegal alien with the mind of a tool builder, a crow, they created a process to weave the fiber into fencing materials. There is an unquenchable thirst for fencing in ranch land, what started as a small, back-of-a-pickup-truck business, continued to grow.
Traveler never questioned his circle of friends and acquaintances, many he had known as a child, most older than him. It didn't seem odd that they were well off, technical or with skills valued by society at the time. It was Seattle, he thought everyone was like that. Most people his age only partly followed politics, though he did notice the entrenched politicians, old white guys and gals in Washington that had been in power for years and were not only out of touch with their constituents, but basic humanity. He was aware of the rising tide of power in poorer states, suspicious of college educated engineers and anyone else not like them, but surely they were a flash in the pan, the same locations had the greatest incidence of opiate addiction, and the nerves.
For whatever reason Traveler decided to throw a party. His apartment was too small, but he had money, so he rented a hotel ballroom at the Sheraton on 6th Ave. Several men and woman in power had been in the news recently and the preponderance of evidence cast a spotlight on awful things they had done, and yet they refused to step down. Perhaps absolute power does corrupt, absolutely.
The party was a gag, a skewer, a roast. The theme: His/Her Name Must Not Be Mentioned, (HNMNBM), the Resistance. HNMNBM the Resistance. Dress code was natural fibers only, no polyester. Food was all organic, GMO free. There were bumper stickers, pins, pens, a plenty. Some friends even helped him create a "HNMNBie Manual", how to survive on the down low in a hostile world, loosely based on the Green Book, a guide for African Americans during the Jim Crow era. They had a key signing table, most of the guests didn't know what that meant, but they went home with a USB and manual with their public, private key co-signed by Traveler, his Godmother, her sister and Angelica, a robotics engineer he had known since early childhood.
A good time was had by all, many of the guests stayed until they closed at 0200 even though the food and wine ran out long before. What Traveler didn't fully understand was that the guests didn't take it as a gag. Everything made perfect sense to them, the time was right, this is what had to be done. It became a movement, photos, that were later regretted, were posted on social media, likes, it went viral. HNMNBM, the movement was born.
With help from his friend Gizmo, an illegal alien with the mind of a tool builder, a crow, they created a process to weave the fiber into fencing materials. There is an unquenchable thirst for fencing in ranch land, what started as a small, back-of-a-pickup-truck business, continued to grow.
Traveler never questioned his circle of friends and acquaintances, many he had known as a child, most older than him. It didn't seem odd that they were well off, technical or with skills valued by society at the time. It was Seattle, he thought everyone was like that. Most people his age only partly followed politics, though he did notice the entrenched politicians, old white guys and gals in Washington that had been in power for years and were not only out of touch with their constituents, but basic humanity. He was aware of the rising tide of power in poorer states, suspicious of college educated engineers and anyone else not like them, but surely they were a flash in the pan, the same locations had the greatest incidence of opiate addiction, and the nerves.
For whatever reason Traveler decided to throw a party. His apartment was too small, but he had money, so he rented a hotel ballroom at the Sheraton on 6th Ave. Several men and woman in power had been in the news recently and the preponderance of evidence cast a spotlight on awful things they had done, and yet they refused to step down. Perhaps absolute power does corrupt, absolutely.
The party was a gag, a skewer, a roast. The theme: His/Her Name Must Not Be Mentioned, (HNMNBM), the Resistance. HNMNBM the Resistance. Dress code was natural fibers only, no polyester. Food was all organic, GMO free. There were bumper stickers, pins, pens, a plenty. Some friends even helped him create a "HNMNBie Manual", how to survive on the down low in a hostile world, loosely based on the Green Book, a guide for African Americans during the Jim Crow era. They had a key signing table, most of the guests didn't know what that meant, but they went home with a USB and manual with their public, private key co-signed by Traveler, his Godmother, her sister and Angelica, a robotics engineer he had known since early childhood.
A good time was had by all, many of the guests stayed until they closed at 0200 even though the food and wine ran out long before. What Traveler didn't fully understand was that the guests didn't take it as a gag. Everything made perfect sense to them, the time was right, this is what had to be done. It became a movement, photos, that were later regretted, were posted on social media, likes, it went viral. HNMNBM, the movement was born.
Comments
Post a Comment