Nipping at Their Heels Pt. 2-Reluctant Pig March, Krishna Vampire

The future’s uncertain

and the end is always near

-the Doors, “Roadhouse Blues”

 How fitting that this day started out with me hearing a marching band in downtown Denver performing the Twisted Sister song “We’re Not Gonna Take It.” They couldn’t have planned that any better even though the two events were in no way connected. A fitting theme song for this days events. I had decided to take my youngest down to the rally, a youth of fourteen, because she showed real interest in the protest and wanted to see more, firsthand, on what was going on in the capital city. What an excellent opportunity for her to witness the real ebb and flow of a demonstration.

The block long wall of Denver PD was ready to dance, gas masks now donned and billy clubs ready. I tried to position myself and my daughter close enough to see the real horror show events that might be coming up without getting so close that we ended up getting sprayed. She was all gung ho to get in with the crowd so I had to explain to her how fun pepper spray really is. Apparently she had already forgotten about the gent in the wheelchair  we talked to earlier who was still having difficulty breathing. I know I wasn’t looking forward to a face full of that nasty juice. My lungs were coated with THC and I certainly didn’t want to ruin the high with their chemicals. The first warning came over the bullhorn and all I could catch were random words but the main part of the message was clear. They were reading the required dogma that allowed them to go in there and tear the tents to the ground, allowed and approved by Denver’s mayor. The  warning gave everyone five minutes to clear out before they came in with gas and batons. One officer came over to where I was standing and asked the group if we could act as a liaison and talk to  the angry mob. If the squatters  took their tents down the cops would leave them alone. This made me feel a bit sympathetic to the police-for a minute or so. You could tell they felt bad about the physical faux pax pulled earlier that day when a handful of protesters were beaten pretty good and the crowd got a bathing of chemical spray. They were trying to give them a way out by saying, take down the tents and you can continue. Too late for that. The protesters were growling at the line drawn in the sand. They were ready.

The five minutes passed and the wall of reluctant pigs was ready to storm in. Cell phones and mini recorders were focused in on the crowd all ready for some good time action. Members of the Denver Legal Observer were on hand jotting notes of the events as they took place. Volunteers came by and presented us with vinegar soaked gauze pads to hold next to our face to combat the effects of pepper spray. Jesus, the stink of the vinegar was worse than the spray. I have very little sense of smell left in me due to an industrial accident but even I was gagging at the amount of vinegar on those pads. I was trying to juggle my cell phone’s camera and this soaked cloth and keep an eye on my surroundings. From past experience in crowds I knew that once a wave started you had better go with the flow of direction or get mowed down. My daughter had youth on her side so I was confident she could run to safety.  The countdown ended and the police started moving in. Tension rose along the rank of officers holding the perimeters as the main surge of cops drove into the scattered collection of tents and began dismantling them. I saw some scuffle in the midst of it all and someone went down into the feet of a half dozen officers. I quickly grabbed my daughter and focused her attention on the ass beating. There you are sweetheart, justice at its’ finest, eh?

The tents went down with limited commotion from the crowd. A lot of yelling and jeering but no physical stuff to speak of, no rock throwing or flaming bottle toss. The mob just wasn’t quite ready to commit themselves to true warfare. Large trucks were rolled up and soon vested city workers started hauling away the remains of the tents, the cantina that had been constructed and any other structure that was constructed in the park. The crowd continued it’s verbal attack on the police line, slanderous yelling and taunting, only inches away from the masked patrol. Before long it died back down to a manageable ruckus and soon everyone was back where it started. The tents were down and that part of the park was cordoned off by a circle of officers. I decided to mill around to gather more stories, more information, more venom from the mob. My daughter asked to stay back to watch and be entertained by a circle of Krishnas who had begun to dance and sing. Sure, why not I thought. I warned her about strangers and took off for five or ten minutes to collect data. I should have know it would only take that amount of time for those mystical vultures to fly in. I came back to my daughter sitting on the ground and next to her was a Krishna woman who had given her a book and pamphlet on their little cult.

I walked up with a swift stride and gave the Krishna a violent stare. “Get away from my child you Vampire” I roared at her. The tactic worked. The succubus crawled back to her den of dancing companions and we were safe from their prattle. My daughter wanted to hold onto the book and I decided that it couldn’t hurt; In a pinch we could use it as a projectile if things got out of hand. The Krishna continued their dance and music adding a kind of theme song, a sound score to the evenings event and soon we felt it was time to leave. The police kept their word and no further pounding was issued now that the structures were down.

As I left and headed back for my vehicle I pondered the points of the day’s events. The police hadn’t really won anything other than taking down a few tents; a little over a hundred officers on pay to perform this task. I don’t see how the city can continue to afford a blockade of police down there very long so if the protesters are able to keep this up, they should win at some point. Eventually the city will say ‘okay, enough…let’s talk’ and that is the point that has to be reached before anything will get done. As long as the lines of jeering protestors can hold out, more and more people will jump on the band wagon and they will overcome the political strong arm that keeps this wall of vest and batons on guard. Hold strong brothers and sisters, keep the faith.


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