Witless Protection, or, Who Was That Masked Ham?

So, I'm walking around the Uniontown ARC Gabfest on Saturday (08/14) morning, and as I usually do, I'm taking some snapshots for the newsletter.

I spot a tailgate vendor wearing, so help me, a gold Amateur Radio Operator badge. (Really? But I digress). No sooner than I snap his photo, then a person who just walked past me stopped, grabbed my shoulder to turn me around to face him (yes, very rude). Scrawny looking fellow, badly in need of a shave and a good meal, and from the smell, his weekly bath.

Anyway, the following exchange takes place...

"Did you just take his picture?" (well, duh)(and with that breath, he needs to see a dentist, too)
"Yeah. Why?"
"You can't take my picture. You'll get me killed. Delete it!"
"I'm sorry?"
"I'm in Witness Protection. If you take my picture and post it to Facebook, you'll get me killed. You have to delete my picture!"
"Wait. You're in WHAT?"
"Witness Protection. You can't take my picture of I'll be killed and you'll be in big trouble with the FBI!"
"If you're in Witness Protection, why are you walking around a hamfest wearing a ballcap with your call and name on it?"
"How do YOU know that's my real call?"

At this point, this was no longer amusing. So I simply said "Look, I didn't take your picture, I'm not going to take your picture, and if you're so worried about being seen in public, you should go home."

At this point, I got called an a$$h0le, and he walked away muttering some other obscenities.

(Almost wish I DID take his picture... and after this nonsense, I WOULD have put it in the newsletter.)

Never saw him again after that. And who the hell walks around a public or semi-public venue like a hamfest, and loudly proclaims to all around that he's in Witless Protection?

Funny thing, though. None of the hams I know, who witnessed the exchange, knew who this guy was either.

Witless Perfection, we don' nee no steenking baajez, or What Was That Masked Buffalo Under The MAGA Hat? Masked buffalo because I had a 7th Grade History teacher we all called buffalo breath. His way of punishing kids was leaning over their desks nose to nose giving a lecture while breathing heavily. He used his superextrastinkyexperthalitosis as a weapon! Hamfesters are where the whackers come out of the woodwork, I met my share of them and had the misfortune of having some follow me around. One Gay Blade just wouldn't take no for an answer, then out of the blue a friend who can look real scary when he gets angry or faking it sidled up. Pretending to be my jealous lover he scared the amorous admirer into the next county. Then there was the guy under the parasol hat who showed up at every fester and never failed to latch onto me. I then had to ditch him quick, would you want to be seen with THAT? BTW, which one is the real whacker? Clue: In the old Westerns the bad guys wore black. What I would have done with the Witless in Perfection (Nevada) rather than engage him in conversation, just to get him all shook up like Elvis, is pop the strobe square in his face and split at high velocity while he's blinded by the big red ball.

"(Almost wish I DID take his picture... and after this nonsense, I WOULD have put it in the newsletter.)"
What's with the almost? I would have, and would have. I have the director of these films sitting on my shoulder speaking into my ear saying "Can the dialogue and cut to the chase.".

"Never saw him again after that."
My philosophy is a bit different, after popping a flash in his face NOBODY would see him, only his dust as he ran for the hills. I'm like that, a prankster deluxe.
"And who the hell walks around a public or semi-public venue like a hamfest, and loudly proclaims to all around that he's in Witless Protection?"
Somebody like Gary Prozac under the plastic parasol. I ask myself "Why do I attract the nut jobs?".

The Gay Blade was in Pennsylvania, Prozac in New Jersey, but Dayton has a history of attracting... I'll let you think of a word, I can't.

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Well, I did think about it, Warren. But there was always the chance that this nut job might have turned violent. You never know any more.

i’d rather just make fun of him. Which he made easy.

Now, that said, if I spot him at a future hamfest, all bets are off.

I would have had to laugh at him and snap a picture of him just for the hell of it. When he asked why I would do that I would say I have some friends that were looking for you.....