A Pitchfork Primer for a Theoretical Protest

Lightweight tools would make a big difference if Frankenstein came to town

Photo by Friderike on Unsplash

I listened to a podcast recently that referred to “pitchfork politics.” Apparently, it happens when people—conservatives and liberals alike—become so strident about a leader or cause that they blindly arm themselves with agricultural implements.

Hey, I’m the last person to advocate violence, but pitchfork politics—just in theory—could sure boost sales at hardware stores.

Here’s where going to an independent hardware store can make a big difference. “Pitchfork” is a generic term for a wide range of tools with different functions. A knowledgeable sales clerk will ask confused customers: What do you want to pitch?

A hay fork, for example, typically has three or four tines that are thin, round and pointed. This is used to pitch—you guessed it!—hay. The farmer pictured in Grant Wood’s “American Gothic” is holding a hay fork. Bedding forks typically have more tines than a hay fork and are good for spreading mulch. A spading fork has wide, rectangular tines that are built for breaking up large clods of dirt and turning soil. Neptune and Satan are often depicted holding tridents, and these aren’t pitchforks at all. So stop calling them that.

The handle is almost as important as the fork. Its shape, length and material vary widely and are a matter of personal preference. But that same knowledgeable sales clerk can walk you through the differences in fiberglass and hardwood handles, as well as D-handle and long-reach handles.

If I were invited to a torch-and-pitchfork demonstration—if Frankenstein were coming to town, for example—I would want to buy my pitchfork in person, never, ever online. That’s because a lot of pitchforks are very heavy. Just getting it out of the car trunk and carrying it to the protest site would be exhausting. Weakling that I am, I would be forced to crouch behind a bush and pretend to tie my shoe, which I would probably be doing anyway, truth be told.

And I would never rely on Chuck to buy a pitchfork for me. He would come home with this dealbreaker, which weighs 7.25 pounds:

"Absolutely not,” I would say. “I couldn’t hold that thing aloft for more than 30 seconds!”

“OK, hear me out,” Chuck would reply. “Look how useful it would be in the garden. You put your foot on the bar, giving you a lot more leverage!”

Author’s note: I do not receive an affiliate commission from products included in this post.