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I Am Protesting…


It’s a lost art, really. The colonists who steeped their British-taxed tea into the Boston Harbor had style. And balls. And good reason. And they were ready to fight for their right to party.

Protesting today is a bunch of junk. I went to a high-dollar liberal arts college in the 1980’s. I wanted to study, above all things. I didn’t even drink. Many of the other students wanted attention, and they got it. It seemed that sit-ins were a normal activity, therefore an ineffective form of protest because the same people were clogging the halls in their ombré skirts and Birkenstocks with knitted socks each week. One merely had to ask, “What are you protesting this time?” Same question, different cause…still no deodorant.

And when things go awry, it’s always the fault of the police. Police are trained to uphold the law, which in America is a set of rules that encompasses the freedoms of the masses to the best of its ability. Fascism sucks, but so does anarchy. I know that every great while you get some d-list douchebag who makes it past the police academy obstacle courses and likes to shoot people for fun, but for the most part cops are…people. They are people who are held to a higher standard than you and I every second of every day, and they protect our asses whether they like us or not.

And the biggest reason protesters hate cops? Because of that quarter ounce they have stashed in the dorm room next to Kafka.

So I’m walking out into the early morning sun after breakfast and I see a long line of pallbearer a-holes are carrying a casket through the quad. The cafeteria eggs weren’t that palatable, and the little poachers are trying to jump back up into the sunlight seeing this misuse of the dead. And where the hell did they get a f-ing casket at 7:00 a,m.? I force the scramblers back down and ask someone what the hell is going on.


Ok, Nicaragua. Some people didn’t agree with how that situation was handled. Fine. They’re entitled to that opinion. My question is/was…what the hell am I going to do about it? You are smashing my dobber down and my dad paid a mint to send me here AND I can’t keep my eggs moving south. Do you think anyone in Washington gives a rabbit pellet what some stinky college freshman thinks about foreign policy? No, no, and more NO. He’s trying to get re-elected and you aren’t in his district.

Who does most of the protesting in America? Bored rich kids. The Boston Tea Party was about direct oppression. People who have time to feel sorry for people in other countries should go to said other country and put his/her money where his/her mouth is and jump headlong into the conflict. But do they? Sometimes, and I admire people with balls like that.

If a protest is funny or clever it has a better chance of getting a point across. Any big drama created just makes me think that you didn’t take your pill this morning or you are too lazy to get a job where you can actually make a difference in the areas in which you believe.

But that would mean taking a drug test.

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