My frustrating, heat-packing, McDonald's-loving, stupidity-hating diva friend

I'm not dumb enough to post her photo without permission

I have this Facebook friend in North Carolina whom I like a lot but who really frustrates the hell out of me.

I “met” her when I used to play Mafia Wars – before Anita told me I’d better spend more time trying to make money and less time trying to advance my criminal empire – and kept her on my friends list even after I quit because she’s...well, she’s one of a kind.

She describes herself as a Christian and a Libertarian but I debate with her anyway because she’s really smart, has a great sense of humor, and is one of those seemingly rare folks with whom I can disagree strongly and still look forward to seeing online. I actually like arguing with her, even as my blood pressure rises and my patience wears thin.

She's around 34, likes McDonald’s, hates beets, and claims red is her favorite color and stupidity her biggest pet peeve. She refers to her son as The Boy, her daughter as The Brat and her dog as The Beast (I don’t know their real names but I know the dog’s a German Shepherd), she owns a black Tennessee Walking Horse named Junior, and she’s a card-carrying member of the NRA.

In one of my favorite photos, she’s standing next to a mammoth Polaris all-terrain vehicle, holding its right handlebar and refusing to look directly at the camera because surely she’s got something more important to think about. She’s probably formulating some argument she’s going to have with someone. The picture is noteworthy, though, because of the Smith and Wesson .44 holstered at her right hip. This 5’10” diva means business; one of her nicknames is “Big Evil” and she admits to once punching someone right in the face.

We don’t have a lot in common.

Our latest online exchanges have been about the Occupy Wall Street movement; I support it and she ridicules it. I post essays and video clips that make the case for protest; she posts status updates and clips that make the protesters look like buffoons.

It’s true that the rallies, like any public event, are attracting those who are not the most articulate or dedicated to the cause. But to claim that the protests must be all about going barefoot and banging on bongo drums (as the idiot P.J. Rourke did on a recent episode of Real Time with Bill Maher) is to reveal either one’s ignorance about what’s happening out in the real world or one’s subconscious fear that perhaps the working class has finally been pushed too far.

As Gandhi once said, “First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.”

Ironically, I’ve come across more than a few members of that class in recent days who don’t really want to understand OWS demonstrations or just want everything to go back to the way it was before September 17 when Wall Street was invaded. My friend in North Carolina seems to have less patience for the movement’s message to come together than I do. (Why the multi-issue Tea Partiers aren’t held to the same standards as the OWS folks in that regard is puzzling.) I’ve shared what I think the rallies are about more than once but apparently she needs to hear it from someone who’s unshaven, disheveled and sleeping in a park.

She threatened me in her last post, promising to “be back later to see what else I can do to raise the hair on your back.”

I’m a little afraid to tell her I don’t have any.