She and her friend, another woman, walked into Virginia City’s Priscilla Pennyworth’s Photo Shop ahead of me. I had listened to her talk, telling her friend how she saw the new Disney movie, The Little Mermaid, and how it didn’t advance the history of slavery, whitewashing the truth.
Instantly, I knew she was one of those “woke” people who could not learn, unlearn, or relearn, with whom arguing is a waste of breath. So staying silent, dropping off the newspapers I was delivering, and sitting down, I listened to Hell Betty give her spiel.
Flawless as usual, delivered with the confidence of one who has practiced her speech, aimed at customers for years. But then the woman saw a photograph on the wall of a woman dressed as an Indian squaw.
“You have Native American clothing?” she asked.
“Yes, we do,” Hell Betty answered.
“I’m out of here!” the woman practically screamed as she turned am marched out to the boardwalk, leaving her friend behind.
Instead of following the woman out of the shop, the friend said, “Guess it’ll only be me. Is there an extra charge for dressing up as an Indian squaw?”
“Nope,” Hell Betty said with her distinctive laugh. “Let’s do it.”
The Old Blog in the Desert 