Proud Boys is a gang and that's where I'll always stand on the subject. Karate, Kung-fu, Judo and various other denominational disciplines all have one thing in common. They practice self defense, preaching ways to disarm your assailant long enough to get away from danger. But what if it was possible to disarm an assailant, not run away, and dispatch the mofo to the next life? Is there such a thing, and could it be Krav Maga, wherein students are taught to recognize opportunities wherein a criminal threatens your life and killing that individual would appear as self defense, or else, nobody could possibly find evidence that you were the person who snuffed him out?
And where does the concept of hot pink police uniforms enter the scene? I say this a lot: started out with a dream of becoming a syndicated cartoonist for print journalism, picked up a bit of calligraphy skills to improve my lettering capability, then ended up studying screenwriting because all my comic strip panels sucked. All of my decisions in hobbies revolved around improving my ability to draw cool cartoons with legible print and interesting concepts.
Before all of that, when I didn't know what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, I feared gang violence. Growing up in Echo Park in the 70's public schools exposed me to a lot of that stuff, and I wouldn't consider myself a wimp. I have vague memories as a child rough housing with my papa; and one of my birthday presents as an adolescent were boxing gloves, although I had no siblings to play with as I only had older sisters. So it is, the growing pains of a boy who is NOT a wimp, but has no skills ends up being a victim of memory loss from all the head trauma resulting in losing street fights.
This is all old news as I repeat myself over and over again as if I can explain myself better each time I tell this story. Welp, here's something new you didn't know about me. The concept of ROTC in school never clicked inside my brain that this group of patriotic youth focused on things like martial arts, guns, and doing their damnedest to portray themselves as the model citizen. Puberty done threw me for a loop in high school and it's something I will never forget because I was plundered to the point of becoming a stuttering, blithering idiot who couldn't for the life of me hold a decent conversation with the opposite sex, but before that happened, I had spent quite a bit of time with a girl who ripped my heart out. A popular girl who, two years my senior, practiced celibacy which at my age was like Krav Maga.
Simply put, necking and heavy petting involve a lot of twisting and squirming. In adulthood, when a kiss progresses to that, it can only mean one thing, sex. Yet, as my gf and I did that, she left me on 3rd base indefinitely and that, my friends, is something I like to call ball-busting. So much pain when the twisting and squirming squishes my balls, sex should be mandatory whenever two people are exploring each other's sexuality. So I fucked her in a way nobody can possibly understand. I cheated. Who with? My memory isn't too clear on this, but I believe I fucked my gf by cheating on her with a female member of the Proud Boys.
Not too long ago, I was detained by the girl's brother wearing a law enforcement uniform, a badge and a gun. And this is where the story begins, where hot pink uniforms impact the plot as if nothing out of the ordinary is occurring, other than the policemen in the story are not "men in blue" but "men in pink." This is where I'm at; call it writers' block, call it stupid, but it's my opinion that there are fake cops out there keeping close record of their nemesis and trying to gather as much information about them for their kill list. So, I decided that if I ever succeed in writing a successful screenplay that is in the filming stages, if a scene in my screenplay calls for a man in uniform, it will be a hot pink uniform because I would like to distinguish who is working in my films as a cop over who is working for my films as a cop.