I walk up to the local paint shop and ask for another paint brush. "Oh, your wife was just in here yesterday, let me get you the same kind again." We exchange some friendly small talk, and I walk home past dozens of people heading in and out of the neighborhood bakery, departing the fitness club, waving to friends, chit chatting near park benches, with the gentle sun filtering through the lush green canopy.

I stroll past the fire station, and exchange cordial greetings with one of the fire men that I'd met during the recent fire station open house. I even wave and return smiles with two local police women, out of mutual recognition.

I saunter home, contented and peaceful, and encounter two neighbor kids who have been walking my dogs. We chat for a few minutes about their imminent return to school. From there I head to another neighbor's garage sale to see if they have any video games. I see groups of neighbors out walking dogs together, laughing. I see another set of neighbors talking to each other from their respective yards, across the street.

The entire experience of my straightforward walk was filled with a sense of community and comraderie; people who know and look out for each other. I was filled with a warm glow upon that reflection.

Until I encountered the house with the United Nations flag in the yard. I was half surprised to not see a Federal Reserve bumper sticker on their car and a George Soros lawn sign. Two words unconsciously formed on my lips, and were carried away silently by the mellow late-summer breeze: "Fuck you."

If there is one, single group of people I wish I could snap my fingers at and whisk away to Mars, it would be globalists.