Saturday, March 19th, 2005 – It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the local chapter of Protest Warrior was meeting up for a march. We were headed to City Hall to counter-protest the anti-war crowd. And we were joined by some Freepers as well.
If you look closely, you can see her ink-stained finger.
We met up at the pre-designated area (codenamed – “Barney”) (why, I have no idea) and got to work on our signs:
I was carrying this one:
After all the signs were ready to go, we lugged them over our shoulders and headed to City Hall. We were early, as we wanted the protesters to see us as they came around the corner.
After a short hike, we claimed our spot across the street from City Hall, which was their designated gathering area. You don’t want to get too close to a bunch of “peace” protesters, you’re liable to be assaulted if you disagree with them.
We had already called the local police and informed them of our intentions, and they had no problem with our presence. Once we arrived at our location, we noticed that our spot was well-shaded from the eighty degree heat. Not much shade outside City Hall. Protest Warriors – 1, Moonbats – 0.
The local police sent a few officers to hang out on our side of the street, just in case.
Nice guys. They spoke with us for a brief time then went back to their duties.
We also noticed the local media was in attendance as well:
Of course, we had already spoken with them, too, so they knew we were coming.
After about twenty or thirty minutes, we saw the first of the protesters start to come around the corner. They didn’t make it to City Hall at 2:00 as they said they would, they were about fifteen minutes late. But better late than never, right?
They had all manner of signs.
That large one said “Regime Change Begins At Home”. Apparently, they weren’t aware that we just had an election a few months back, and their guy lost. As did some of their Congressmen and Senators and Governors. But why let facts get in the way of a catchy slogan? Also, notice the paper mache head of Bush. You can’t tell from the photo, but he had a forked tongue. I was surprised to see that, it must have actually involved work.
And as usual, a protest march for peace brings out many of the moonbat factions, not just the peaceniks. We didn’t get as many factions as you’d find in, say, San Francisco. But we had groups such as the Industrial Workers of the World.
They’re vehement anti-capitalists who want to do away with the wage system so that everyone makes the same amount of money and lives in peace and harmony. And no one has any incentive to produce anything or work hard because there’s no point in it.
You know, when I think of industrial workers, I think of big burly guys in steel mills, not scrawny little guys who look tired from holding up a nylon banner. But hey, maybe that’s just me.
And they had cheerleaders:
Not the kind you’d find working for a professional sports team, mind you. They look like this:
That’s Micaela Johnson, a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. Anyway, that was them doing one of their cheers. More on them later.
And what protest would be complete without anarchists?
They had banners attached to PVC pipes that all connected together. They lined up at the edge of the street so that we could read their signs. However, they never did figure out that they had all their banners backwards. They must have gone to government schools.
All the while this was occurring, there was a band playing. I could not make out most of the songs they were playing, but there was one I recognized straight away. It was “Down by the Riverside”, which, oddly enough, is a religious anthem. They did a nice job. After that performance, I was hoping for a stirring rendition of “Go Down, Moses”, but that was not forthcoming. I’m guessing the ACLU had no members present, as singing a religious song while on government property would certainly constitute a lawsuit.
About ten minutes after the moonbats arrived, the local news media apparently had all the footage of them that they needed, and decided to get some footage of our side of the
Of course, all the media converging upon our side of the street did not go unnoticed by the moonbats. Several of them decided they needed to come over and interrupt as many interviews as they could.
The guy and girl on the right in glasses injected themselves into several interviews. The girl had been over previously, before the moonbat parade arrived, to try and school us on the benefits of leaving the Taliban and Saddam in power. Somehow, none of us were convinced.
After about an hour of interviews, the media packed up and left, as did the “Moonbatus Interruptus”. So far, so good. A few moonbats had wandered over and talked to us, some more beligerant than others, but nothing remotely approaching a confrontation or violence.
And then came the anarchists.
They crossed the street and lined up right in front of us in an attempt to block our signs. Since theirs were hanging from PVC pipe, the highest they could get them was arm’s length above their heads, which would amount to six to six and a half feet at best. Our signs were three feet tall, mounted on six foot two-by-two’s. So naturally, we had no problems lifting our signs high above theirs.
Now, I’ve never met an anarchist in person, but I did make a few empirical observations. The only prerequisite I could determine from their presence to becoming an anarchist is to STINK. And optionally, wearing a wrap-around hood to cover your face was all the rage. Judging from their smell, I could only assume the hood was for the purpose of masking both an advanced case of halitosis and a lack of teeth due to neglected dental hygiene. As luck would have it, we were upwind from the moonbats, and thankfully so. There were only about ten of them that came over to impede our freedom of speech, but that was enough to make me nearly pass out. Sadly, I did not arrive prepared for biological warfare, but fortunately was able to survive with minimal damage to my olfactory mechanisms. I can’t imagine what the smell on the other side of the street must have been like. And that doesn’t even take into consideration the patchoulli.
Shortly after the anarchists’ arrival, the confrontations began. But fortunately for us, the police department sent over about seven or eight motorcycles, and blocked off the entire lane closest to us to be in close proximity, just in case.
The first anarchist to become unglued was of the female variety.
She was doing her part, as I said, to impede our freedom of speech by holding up the banner in front of us, but for her, that wasn’t enough. Shortly after arriving, she turned around and began unleashing a stream of expletives at us that would have made a sailor blush. I will not repeat them here. She did receive a visit from one of the policemen stationed directly in front of us shortly after her tirade began. Which seemed to quell her desire to berate us.
The girl on the left was there, by her account, as an impartial photojournalist. She had arrived early and did a quick walk-by filming of us, stopping to ask each of us why we were there. However, she did seem to know the anarchists quite well for an “impartial” photojournalist. Here she is on the other side of the street right next to them:
As for the photo before that one, did you notice anything odd? Here’s a better one:
Their presence on our side was solely to cover our signs with theirs so that the moonbats on the other side of the street would see their message, not ours. However, once again, they had the signs backwards, this time facing us. To their credit, they did notice this time, after about ten minutes. Perhaps I was too harsh in my judgment of government schools after all. Or not.
Remember the cheerleaders? They arrived shortly after the anarchists. Some of them had mini-bullhorns and were offering up the following Shakespearian prose:
Racist, sexist, anti-gay
Right-wing bigots, go away
We all looked at each other and wondered to whom they were speaking. Other than right-wing, nothing in that “cheer” described any of us. Of course, they did halt the “cheer” long enough to call one of our members a fag. Ah, tolerance at its finest. And I don’t think our “fag” even knew Jeff Gannon.
It was at this point that the anarchist directly in front of me decided to spark up a conversation. He claimed to be from Israel and wanted to know if they had my support. Now, an Israeli who is also an anarchist asking you if you support his country is obviously asking a loaded question, but I decided to play along. I offered that they did indeed have my support. He then questioned me about the “occupation”. I still don’t understand how having a presence on your own land is considered an “occupation”, but that’s just semantics, right?. After a seemingly prepared speech about Gaza and the West Bank, I questioned him to see if he knew how those lands came to be “occupied”. He was indeed aware of the Six Day War, but had no answer to the question of why in the previous nineteen years or so that Egypt occupied the West Bank, that they did not establish a Palestinian homeland. He did offer up anecdotes of the iron fist with which Israel rules those areas, and said that Egypt was more tolerant of their presence. I just pointed to my sign. I don’t recall any incidents in Egypt of terrorists blowing themselves up in the vicinity of women and children to facilitate the “liquidation of the Zionist presence” (PLO Charter, Article 15).
After quieting him, I decided to give a short lesson in political philosophy to the person next to him. I asked him knowingly if he was an anarchist. He confirmed that he was. I then pointed out to him that as politics go, there is a left and a right. He agreed. I then explained that the further to the left you go, the more government control is exercised. Starting at dead center and moving to the left, you will pass Bill Clinton (don’t ask, don’t tell), Nancy Pelosi, the Massachusetts Senatorial delegation, fascism, and eventually end up at communism/Marxism. However, the further to the right you go, the less government is involved. Starting at dead center and moving to the right, you pass the Bushes, Reagan, Ayn Rand, Pat Buchanan (hehe), and eventually end up at anarchy, which is the complete lack of any government. He did not like hearing that he was even more right-wing than I was. I decided not to ruin his day any further.
After a short discussion with my fellow Protest Warriors and a brief consultation with the police, it was determined that we should go around the anarchists and move into the lane in the street that the police had blocked off. We took our new positions, much to the dismay of the anarchists who were now behind us. They began pressing up against us and pushing us into the police. Needless to say, the police were not amused, and quickly educated the anarchists on how not to really piss off the cops. After seeing this display, the police sergeant who was the ranking officer on the scene ordered all of us back onto the curb and off the street.
The anarchists, now behind us, backed off first, and crowded the curb in an attempt to keep us from staying in front. The sergeant informed them that they needed to “stop acting like children” and make room for us. Which they did, begrudgingly.
At this point, we were in a rather precarious position. There were anarchists directly behind us. Looking to my right, I could see one of my compatriots being thumped in the head with the PVC pipe the anarchists were using to hold up their banners. As for me, I had a special anarchist behind me. He appeared to be their leader.
He’s the one with graying hair pictured just to the left of the shirtless anarchist. Not knowing his name we dubbed him “Jerry Garcia”. He was slightly behind me and to the left. I was holding my sign up right in front of their PVC pipe. Seeing he had a leverage advantage, he instructed the anarchist slightly behind me and to my right to press the PVC pipe against my sign and force me out into the street, which the police had just moments prior forbidden. The sergeant noticed this and immediately confronted Jerry. Here’s a photo of the sergeant.
I myself was being thumped in the head as this photo was taken earlier in the festivities. As a result, I lost my grip on the camera (I was still holding the six-foot sign with the other hand) and one of my fingers slightly obscured the lens.
The officer informed Jerry that if he and his cohort were successful in pushing me out into the street again, that they would be the ones carted off to jail. Jerry immediately
lied denied that he had pushed me into the street, and told the officer that there were “two sides to every story”. The officer, of course, not buying that, informed him once again of the rules. Needless to say, Jerry and his friend didn’t push me into the street again.
Shortly after that, the thunderheads began rolling in, and it was decided that we should head back. We left to quite a round of applause. The police thanked us for conforming to the guidelines that we ourselvels had laid out (In a conftontation between peaceful citizens who are there to express support for the troops and anarchists, whose goal is eradication of the police, whose side do you think the police would take?). I was not aware that we were so appreciated by the moonbat species. Of course, we were the ones who had enough sense to come in out of the rain. The anarchists and the others stayed. It was probably the first shower they’ve had in weeks.
Update: Jumping into the Beltway Traffic Jam…