The Resistance Will Not Be Polite. And Apparently, It Comes With a Sandwich

Julie’s Journal — October 2026

I have a confession to make.

I have developed a rather unhealthy fascination with a gray-haired woman who recently gave Donald Trump a double middle-finger salute.

Not one finger.

TWO.

Both hands. Full extension. No ambiguity. No need for a translator, a press secretary, or a 47-page explanation of what she really meant.

It was the kind of political statement that transcends language, geography, and educational attainment.

And I am absolutely enchanted.

I’ve been looking at her photograph, admiring her audacity, and sharing her image with the enthusiasm of a teenage girl who has just discovered the Beatles.

In fact, I’ve become so taken with this woman that I’ve designed not one but TWO T-shirts featuring her image.

One says SHERO.

The other says YES SHE DID.

At this rate, I may need to open a merchandise division.

My husband has been listening patiently as I explain why this woman deserves a place in the Smithsonian, preferably somewhere between the Declaration of Independence and the exhibit on women’s suffrage.

I realize some people might find her gesture vulgar.

To those people, I would simply point out that after years of listening to Donald Trump’s public pronouncements, we’ve apparently reached a point where two raised middle fingers may qualify as one of the more restrained forms of political discourse.

And frankly, I admire her efficiency.

No lengthy speech. No PowerPoint presentation. No congressional hearing.

Just ten fingers, two of them doing all the talking.

And now the impostors have arrived.

Naturally, because we live in an age when artificial intelligence can manufacture practically anything except common sense, there are AI-generated images circulating that appear to show a different woman.

This irritates me.

Our original gray-haired rebel deserves full credit for her moment.

She did not spend decades accumulating life experience, surviving whatever nonsense life has thrown her way, and presumably developing a healthy intolerance for bullshit just to have some computer-generated substitute steal her thunder.

We have enough fake things in American politics already.

Can we please allow one genuine act of glorious defiance to remain genuine?

Then there’s the Sandwich Guy.

I was explaining all of this to my husband when I remembered another one of my favorite episodes from the increasingly bizarre chronicles of American resistance.

The man who threw a Subway sandwich at a federal agent in Washington, D.C.

Now, I am not advocating throwing things at law enforcement officers.

But you have to admit, as political symbolism goes, a flying footlong is pretty hard to forget.

Sean Charles Dunn became known as the Sandwich Guy after throwing his sandwich during a confrontation with federal officers deployed in Washington.

The government initially pursued a felony charge.

A FELONY.

Over a sandwich.

Apparently, somewhere in the federal criminal justice system, somebody decided that lunch had become a national security threat.

A grand jury declined to indict him on the felony charge, and he was later acquitted of misdemeanor assault.

I can only imagine the conversations in the courtroom.

“Your Honor, the prosecution would like to enter Exhibit A.”

“Is that the weapon?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Is that mayonnaise?”

“No, Your Honor. Mustard.”

And perhaps my favorite detail: testimony described mustard and onions on the officer’s equipment.

I mean, how does one maintain a straight face while discussing the forensic implications of deli condiments?

Somewhere, a Subway marketing executive must have been wondering whether this was an advertising opportunity or a public relations catastrophe.

Eat Fresh. Resist Fascism.

Probably not an officially approved slogan.

But it does have a certain ring to it.

And then there was the great Reflecting Pool emergency.

You may recall the drama surrounding the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool.

Trump’s renovation project involved giving the pool a patriotic blue makeover.

Unfortunately, the new coating began peeling, and the water developed problems.

Trump blamed vandals.

One former Olympian, David Hearn, was prosecuted after touching a detached piece of the pool’s lining.

Think about that.

A man touched something that was already coming apart.

The government treated it as a serious criminal matter.

The charges were eventually dismissed, with evidence pointing to problems with the installation rather than vandalism.

This is where I begin to wonder whether we’re living in a constitutional republic or an extremely expensive episode of Candid Camera.

Imagine explaining this to our grandchildren.

“Well, sweetheart, back in 2026, the government had some very important priorities.”

“Like what, Grandma?”

“Well, they were investigating a sandwich and a man who touched a swimming-pool liner.”

“Was there a war going on?”

“Yes, honey.”

“Were people struggling to afford groceries?”

“Yes.”

“Was the country divided?”

“Very.”

“So why were they worried about the pool?”

“That’s an excellent question. Grandma needs a drink.”

And the pool itself attracted another delightful little protest group.

They called themselves Team Algae.

Yes. People were actually cheering for algae.

One participant reportedly dressed as a purple frog.

You know a political administration has entered truly surreal territory when pond scum develops a resistance movement.

I have no idea what the official membership requirements were, but I assume a willingness to stand up for aquatic microorganisms was essential.

Personally, I am considering applying for an honorary membership.

Perhaps we’re witnessing the birth of a new resistance movement.

Not the traditional kind, with speeches and banners and carefully worded manifestos.

No, this one seems to involve ordinary people who have simply reached their personal limit.

A gray-haired woman raises two fingers.

A man launches a sandwich.

People cheer for algae.

And the internet does what the internet does best: turns absurdity into folklore.

I suspect there are millions of Americans who recognize the feeling behind these moments.

You watch the news. You shake your head. You mutter something unprintable. You turn off the television.

Then you turn it back on because surely things cannot possibly have gotten worse in the last fifteen minutes.

And somehow, they have.

Maybe that’s why I find my gray-haired heroine so irresistible.

She represents something I think many women of my generation understand particularly well.

We were raised to be nice.

Be polite. Don’t make a scene. Don’t use bad language. Don’t embarrass anyone. Don’t be difficult.

Smile sweetly, even when you’re furious.

Well, some of us have reached an age when we no longer feel obligated to provide a complimentary serving of politeness with every opinion.

We have paid our taxes, raised our families, worked our jobs, buried people we loved, survived disappointments, and watched more than enough political nonsense to last several lifetimes.

And somewhere along the way, we discovered that being a good woman and being a quiet woman are not the same thing.

Perhaps that is the real reason I want her on my T-shirt.

Not because I think flipping someone off is the highest form of civic engagement.

But because sometimes a single photograph captures the exhaustion, anger, courage, and defiance of people who are simply fed up.

But here’s where I stop laughing.

Because as funny as some of these moments are, what is happening in this country is not funny.

Not even a little.

I am deeply worried about the upcoming election.

I worry about the erosion of democratic norms, the attacks on institutions, the growing willingness to treat political opponents as enemies, and the consequences of concentrating power in the hands of people who seem increasingly intolerant of criticism.

And I am absolutely furious about this administration’s posture toward Vladimir Putin and Russia.

Watching Ukraine fight for its survival while American leadership sends signals that, in my view, favor or embolden Putin is almost unbearable.

People are dying.

Families are being torn apart.

Cities have been destroyed.

Ukrainians are fighting for their sovereignty, their homes, and their right to determine their own future.

This is not a reality show. There is no commercial break. And the consequences of American decisions extend far beyond our borders.

I never imagined I would live to see a time when I would be so troubled by the direction of my own country’s leadership.

Yet here we are.

And I don’t have a clever punchline for that.

What I do have is a conviction that silence and resignation are not acceptable responses.

We can laugh at the absurdity. We can celebrate the rebels. We can wear the T-shirts.

But we also need to pay attention, speak out, defend the truth, support independent journalism, participate in peaceful protest, and vote.

Because a sandwich is not going to save democracy.

Neither is a middle finger.

And while I’m rooting for Team Algae, I don’t think pond scum is going to rescue the Constitution.

That’s our job.

So here’s to the gray-haired woman.

Whoever she is, I hope she knows she has an admirer in Indiana.

An admirer who has already made two T-shirts and is seriously considering a third.

Maybe something with the words:

I’M TOO OLD TO PRETEND THIS IS NORMAL.

Or perhaps:

THEY TOLD US TO BE LADYLIKE. WE DECLINED.

And to everyone else who is exhausted, angry, frightened, or wondering what on earth has happened to this country, I have one final thought.

Don’t lose your sense of humor.

But don’t let your sense of humor become a substitute for action.

Laugh when you can.

Speak when you must.

And when November comes, make sure your voice is heard where it matters most.

At the ballot box.

Because ultimately, I’d much rather see millions of Americans raise their voices than their middle fingers.

Although, I must admit, the middle fingers do make a spectacular T-shirt.

Thank you, as always, for spending a little time with me here at Julie’s Journal. I appreciate every one of you, especially those willing to laugh with me when the world seems to have lost its collective mind.

If this made you smile, think, or mutter a few choice words of your own, please share it with someone who might appreciate it. And if you’re not yet a subscriber, I’d love to have you join us.

Wishing you a good start to another week. Stay informed, stay engaged, and please, for heaven’s sake, don’t lose your sense of humor.

Julie Bolejack, MBA

The Mindful Activist