HUMOR
I’m a Hand Pump Trolley, and I Am Staging My Own Trolley’s Convoy in Solidarity With the People’s Convoy D.C. Beltway Protest
We crawl forward at a slightly slower and barely more inconvenient pace to end vaccine mandate tyranny
We, the hand pump trolleys of the United States, stand, nay, move slowly in solidarity with our human and truck brethren of the People’s Convoy for the United States of America, so that we may secure the blessings of liberty and restore our once perfect Union Railroad.
The declaration of national emergency concerning the COVID-19 pandemic is a crime against the American people, vehicles and hand-powered transportation devices akin to the exploits of the Jesse James gang. But instead of a handsome outlaw, it’s the US government, and instead of a train robbery, it’s a vaccine mandate. The more I think about it, the more horrific it becomes like a train that can no longer chugga chugga.
We handcars would like to participate in the D.C. Beltway Protest, but seeing as we are restricted to railways thanks to big government (or as we call it, “Big Conductor”), we are organizing our own protest in support, and we’re here to kick some caboose. Believe me when I say there are tons of us, dozens, if not a small handful.
We’re going to be a huge pain, trust me brothers. We’re going to get on the railroad track and move slowly. No, not our normal speed, I mean really super slow. You’ll barely be able to tell if we are moving more than you usually struggle to tell if we’re moving or just kind of rolling down the tracks. Our humans will lightly pump our seesaws in the name of freedom. We’ll toot our little whistles. They’re not as big and loud as a regular locomotive’s, but they’re even more free and American.
I was inspired by the People’s Convoy’s supreme tactics of staying in a single-file line on the D.C. Beltway to show the people exactly how big you were. As we all know, the sign of any good American protest is that it doesn’t really inconvenience anyone, but everyone sees how big and important you are. Just like you, there’s probably, maybe, kind of more than one of us, and I want the people to know just how many hand pump trolleys are fighting for our freedom. That’s why I chose an abandoned railway for my protest, so every single person who accidentally glances in our general direction while dissociating during their morning commute knows the girth of our movement.
But we won’t let federal agents trap us at the capitol like they did to our Choo-ChooAnon allies during the January 6th Rally. That’s why we’re protesting right outside D.C. in the busy metropolis of Hinton, West Virginia. Biden’s counterintelligence program, commonly referred to as Amtrak, will not get us this time as we inch forward at a pace less than we normally inch.
We need the people and the trolleys to know this is our America, and we don’t stand for pandemic restriction tyranny. We don’t need vaccines. Hell, we don’t need doctors. In my day, doctors used cocaine for toothaches and oil for squeaky wheels. It was your God-given right to die of tetanus after stepping on one of my many rusty nails. That’s my America. Liberty pumps through our veins and/or hand pumps.
I, an important and widely used handcar, move slightly less fast than normal under the same banner of freedom as the People’s Convoy. For amber waves of grain, for purple mountain majesties, for bronze criss-crosses of railways, America, God shed His grace on thee.
