I Wasn’t Concerned When A Stampede Of Raging Bulls Broke Into The Porcelain Shop Where I Work

“Even though those thousands of people that were marching to the Capitol were trying to pressure people like me to vote the way they wanted me to vote, I knew those were people that love this country, that truly respect law enforcement, would never do anything to break the law, and so I wasn’t concerned. Now, had the tables been turned […] and those were tens of thousands of Black Lives Matter and Antifa protesters, I might have been a little concerned.” – GOP Senator Ron Johnson of Wisconsin speaking to conservative radio host Joe Pags about the capital hill riot – Slate

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There’s a saying about bulls in a China shop which accuses bulls of being careless and reckless, though I’m not sure why. Sure, the bulls that stampeded into the porcelain shop where I work indiscriminately trampled and smashed almost every product we had in stock, but I was never concerned.

Even though that herd of bulls that stormed through the shop had no awareness of the dozens of signs which warned customers that our products are “extremely fragile” and that “If you break it, you buy it,” I knew that they were bulls who, deep down, had a tremendous love, respect, and appreciation for fine ceramics. They would never do anything to break our delicate, porcelain goods.

When they burst through our front door and smashed through our windows, nostrils flaring, I wasn’t concerned. Nor was I concerned when several of the bulls began to paw at the ground with their hooves. Yes, most of the other employees were terrified, afraid for their lives even. But I knew better. When a bull begins rubbing or horning the ground, it’s not a threatening display. That’s simply the bull’s way of saying, “I would love to see what you have in a high-tea collection.”

I was in the midst of donning my white gloves in order to remove some pieces from a display case when one of my colleagues stupidly panicked and began running for the back of the shop, hoping to lock himself in the breakroom. Well, of course that set the bulls off. This isn’t the running of the bulls in Spain, for crying out loud! There was no need for concern. It’s almost as if everyone forgot how much bulls appreciate exquisitely fragile dinnerware.

I suppose the official term for what the bulls did next is “charge,” but that makes it sound too aggressive. It didn’t really amount to much more than a lot of flailing, bucking, and some minor goring. Well, yes, Kevin was impaled by one of their horns. Still, I wasn’t concerned.

Even though those bulls, each weighing between one to two tonnes, were storming through a shop full of highly breakable, ornate goods, I knew they were creatures who possessed a great love for handcrafted dinnerwares.

After several hours of the bulls running through the shop, our inventory had been knocked off of shelves, tread upon, and rendered into a fine dust, but I knew they valued our products. There wasn’t a single moment that I was concerned for the fine China which happened to be underneath the civil hooves of those tender bovine.

Yes, Kevin unfortunately succumbed to his wounds and several other employees were injured, but the bulls were never a cause for concern. Not when they forced their way into the barricaded breakroom. Not even when they thundered into our stock room, decimating some of our finest collections.

Now, if the tables had been turned and the bulls were a herd of dairy cows, I might have been concerned. You know how dangerous those Jersey cows can be. Very concerning. No, they don’t behave the same as a bull or have the horns, but they are definitely more dangerous. I hate to think what could have happened if they’d been the cattle that had come to our shop.

Slow, shuffling hooves, teets swaying heavily with milk – I’m lactose-intolerant! Now that’s cause for concern. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t thank the Lord that we weren’t invaded by milking cows. It would have been an “udder” disaster.