In Search of Bernie: Fini


Sweet Jesus, right out in public…no beating around the fucking bush. She asked me to do photo manipulation of the crowd, as if I were some staunch Trump supporting photographer. Then more people began to mistake me for being one of those who praise the Crimson King and it made me wonder what I had done. By allowing myself to be objective, was I leaving myself open to false identification and classification from those gathered?

The two middle aged ladies from some White White White city North of Sleepytown had driven about 40 miles to come down here to lug a big sign around. Imagine transporting a six by eight foot sign forty miles, struggling with it to get on the downtown Circle Monument roundabout, while light rain peppers you and historic Hoosier humidity stands ready to sweat you down. You suffer all that to go stand in a crowd of people who despise you…that’s dedication to one’s ideals. That, is the art. That is where my fascination is most nourished. I could give a rat’s ass about their politics or how fucked up I might think they are for backing some candidate. I just want to look at them, like a social voyeur, and watch how my species behaves; we’re fucking insane.
The taller, dark haired lady smiled at me (once I had won her confidence by snapping a few photos) and tried to chew the fat in a polite manner. “I mean, what is Alt-Right anyway?” she smiled, her head shaking to negate the notion of such a term, but I wasn’t playing in. I wasn’t going to get pulled in, not into being too polite, not by getting too hostile. Mr. Objectivity here, ladies.

Just as that ‘Alt-Right’ conversation was going on, a dark haired woman in her thirties walked up to the second sign lady, the blonde who had asked me to take the pictures earlier. The dark haired woman was clutching to her tween daughter’s hand, tugging the girl along. Both women acknowledged one another and the mother did a verbal launch on sign lady:
“Why do you want children to die?”
Sign lady looks at the Mother and replies:
“Why do you support abortion?”
That kid had a slight grimace on her face when she heard that, or did I imagine it? Was the grimace on my face? I felt bad for the girl not being allowed to go have fun, but forced to attend one of these rallies, and then hearing talk about someone wanting children to die? -And what the hell is a ‘bortion’?

That exchange of words kind of sums up the whole political feel of things in this country right now. Each side barking at one another with hostile intent, no one working toward a mutual agreement or action to get this country back on it’s feet. More Sanders supporters began walking up to confront the sign ladies. They assumed I was a Nazi camera wielding sympathizer for the Trump side. This was a tough one to keep unbiased on. I had been attracted to Sanders early in the 2016 campaign circus, but I can’t expose my personal politics out there. I would have none of the wonderful dialogue with those ladies if I went at them like some of the opposition did. I worked to convince the Sanders folks I didn’t support Trump, but wasn’t there to support Sanders either. The camera thing helps, because if you have a real camera in your hand rather than a phone camera, it seems more like you could be more for reporting, rather than supporting-another reason it’s convenient and helpful to have someone like Miguel around. He has done this shit, the crowd thing, so long that it’s become a cake walk for him. He doesn’t let them suck him into carrying a sign that says ‘Fuck the Police’.

The importance of staying the fuck away from subjective analysis at these sideshows will merit insight, every now and then, to the human condition. The true nature of mob mentality can come alive before your eyes and let you witness how humans really behave. Shock value reports in the news have moved people to do some horrible things against one another rather than look for a solution, and it seems all I want to do now is watch. I get to witness masses, spurred into action by the media, each side acting and reacting as bad as one another. I have found Bernie, and he brings noise of love and peace, but in the background a crowd is busy fighting one another. The Crimson King sets another fire and dances into the sunset, laughing, while I witness the common folk jab at one another. There is solace in the knowledge that Trump’s supporters were few in number at this rally, which means the reign of a New Reich can be defeated. I wait now for the next demonstration; I’ve had my fix.

March on, Mr. Sanders, and welcome to the Church.


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