If That’s Daniel Boone, This Must Be Occupy Denver

 “It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how
the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have
done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the
arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who
strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again,
because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but
who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who
spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in
the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst,
if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place
shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither
victory nor defeat.”

Theodore Roosevelt
April 23, 1910

The political zombies now recognize me as I walk among them and each trip to their dwelling at the corner of Broadway and Colfax provides a new face and story for me to enjoy. I have been given the seal of approval and can walk the park freely as a celebrity guest inside that carnival of suffrage and insanity. The permanent fixtures that spend most of their time hibernating inside plastic tarp cocoons wave to me. I can walk along the sidewalk path in the middle of the park where the serious drug dealers and abusers convene to sell almost any narcotic you can think of; I usually burn a bowl out there so they see I can be trusted-scary creatures there, tall hooded ebony dopers with blood brimming from their eye sockets, the white part of the eye now an orangish yellow, all offering to sell me pot or hash or smack.

I can’t figure why the truly insane babbling ones down here have yet to approach me with their nonsense and dribble, I’m just glad they haven’t (yet) confronted me. When I say insane I don’t mean someone with an off-key logic to the situation across from the Capital building or someone a bit drunk or high, I mean an all out run through the park waving your arms in the air screaming like a possessed harpy loon. No, the truly warped are definitely a thing to avoid, but the others, they make for an interesting take on things in the Occupy camp.

This trip’s interesting figure was a man named Daniel Boone, a 47 year old homeless man sporting two black eyes and a coating of dirt and hard times on his bare arms. He said he recognized me from the time I spend downtown and said a lot of protesters know I’m there to correspond and report what they’re up to. Daniel has an idea to write “Occupy; The Play”, a portrayal of the individuals who have come to be known a the Occupiers. His thought is to have the play carry itself in all major cities where a protest is being held. He convinces some loner playing a guitar to get in the street and start singing protest songs to inspire his writing of this play. I wish him well with his play and scoot along to other parts of the park. I love the diverse concepts being pitched here, very little of it makes sense, at times a nugget of good tought comes about but then it gets mixed up with all the other banter. The irony of something as humorous as this chalk scrawled message in front of the Capital that reads ‘ they can break the law (lawmakers and cops implied) but we can’t’. This gem of a message is not more than thirty feet away from two guys smoking weed in a pipe. ‘Fuck the Police’ has become the seasonal mantra, blaming them for hauling away fellow zombie protesters for a few days (I have to imagine the Crazy Jesus Lady is in the tank as I have now seen here down here for some time).

To conclude, I think it might behoove you to visit your own local protest site….take a bag of chips or something for the starving demons. Talk to the cognizant ones and get a feel for what’s going through their mind, show some interest in what they have to say even if you think they’re full of shit. At base level, aside from all the politics, they are human beings (sort of) and who wouldn’t give a hungry person a bite to eat? Hell an Oklahoma church youth group showed up to hand out chips and drinks, all the way on a mission from Oklahoma to feed people in protests like this. If an Okie church group can provide a small bag of corn chips, why can’t the rest of us. Keep these zombies friendly, I’ve discovered they’ll let you walk among their sarcophagus and come up with your own conclusions on the whole politics of things. Besides, if and when the masses begin to clash with ‘the Man’ you’re gonna want a lot of loons backing you up. These monsters are ripe for the cause, they just need someone to remind them what the cause is.

The numbers grow on Broadway and Colfax. They have now crossed the streets and are spreading like a weak rash. A small cantina has been erected again, the numbers are increasing. I smell the rise of the zombies.


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