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A Rising Surge of Zealotards – pt. 2


Driving to the rally gave Mike and I time for psychological motivation. Our interest in attending these dramas is to witness the great human clash, the artform society unfolds at these events, whether gripped with emotion, or banality. Mike has been doing photography around the U.S. and abroad, won awards for his work and can’t stop this addiction of his. I get to witness his dance when he passes through crowds for that one certain moment to capture, some little…something, that goes by in a blink.

My preparation typically includes getting notebook and camera ready, pens and additional pens and usually medicating myself with something before leaving. As avid a fan as I am covering events like these, crowds put me on edge. I’ve attended too many horror shows rock concerts throughout my life that got out of hand; I’ll never forget a particular nasty two day concert in Sedalia, Missouri, where the crowd baked in the sun and bad acid made it’s round through thousands attending. We both know how ugly crowds can get, and how quick it can go down, so part of that prep Mike and I have is to make sure and have our sixth sense set to read the mood of any situation. You don’t want some asshole, jacked up on emotion and Red Bull, running up and smashing your camera, or to be swept up into a mob fistfight-should one break out.

We closed in on a parking spot and walked a few blocks to the event. The rally was to start at ten and by the time we got there it had been going for about twenty minutes. I could see a group of close to a hundred, if I tallied all sides represented at the Capitol building. The closer we got, the more clear an audio blast from a cheap hand held microphone became. It was being fed through a small amplifier with a cracked speaker; the speaker blistered on about the evils of Sharia law. The speaker faced one political group that held ground on the sidewalk at the corner of Washington and Capitol Ave., supporters of Donald Trump, while behind him stood those who would oppose the Crimson King, standing in defiance on the front lawn of the Capitol building. The Trump camp had people carrying flags; an American flag, a yellow flag with the ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ snake and a couple flags with symbols I was unfamiliar with. The opposing crowd held no type flags or signs that were too memorable to me. Typical protesty things, but nothing gripping. They did harbor a few anti-protestors garbed in black, quasi-anarchist jackets and wearing scarfs to hide their faces, aiming for that Sandinista freedom fighter look. I went up and asked one of them the name of the group they represented (i.e. those in the black/scarfed outfits) and he became too evasive with an answer. He wasn’t going to commit to saying he was a part of any affiliated group that might wear black, blah blah. Mi hermano asked another black dressed face attendee and they said they just came dressed like this because it looked radical, or something equally as mundane. Mike gathered shots of the masked crowd but I became drawn to the group with folks wearing American flag bandanas over their head and decked out in military camo uniforms toting semi-automatic weapons. I wanted to find out about the two flags with unfamiliar icons on them. The icon was shaped like a triangle with lines leading into the middle from the points of the outside. One flag was white symbol on a blue back background and the other was blue symbol on a white background. I even asked Mike about it and he was unfamiliar with it as well.
“Why don’t you go over and ask them?” he suggested, and I did.
I went to the closest foreign symbol flag holder, a young man dressed like a potential Aryn Nation type or White Supremacist; black short sleeved shirt, Levis, shit stomping boots and a pair of dark shades. His hair was blonde and cropped short, his skin was pretty alabaster and I bet if those glasses came off, his eyes would be blue. Now, stereotyping is one thing and I don’t like to judge a book by it’s cover, but some times, a stereotype look on an individual helps prepare you for a situation. This guy definitely looked like the perfect male model for a White racist organization. I wanted to give him an opportunity to speak, regardless of how extreme he or his affiliated group might be. There were enough dicks there that morning trying to start fights, that wasn’t my purpose. I came to be educated.

I walked up, smiling, and asked about the symbol on his flag and who it represented. His stoic face turned to me and grinned. That grin was cold, hard steel…made me think the eyes behind those glasses might not be blue; maybe they were ebony black, like the eyes of a Great White shark.
“We’re the Dragons” he said.


A Rising Surge of Zealotards – pt. 1


The Transgender social event in downtown Indy I went to was over on Wednesday. Three days later came Saturday morning, the morning of Gay Pride celebration in the Circle City. The Gay Pride Parade and after-party always brought happiness, love and acceptance for those attending. I was certain this year would be no different, other than the fact that a previous engagement would have me busy and unable to attend the downtown excitement. It was a minor little something that I could get out of, but the responsible thing to do was go ahead and follow through with the appointment and leave Pride to the rest of the town. That was my intention and I could have lived with that decision, but then a last minute online posting of a rally at the Indiana State Capitol building sponsored by ACT of America sprang up in my online news-feed. Now it would be the Right Wing’s turn to take to the streets and march, carry those banners and chant their creative little slogans. I couldn’t pass that up.

I had been to about a half dozen rallies down at the Capitol building but they were all geared to crowds of Progressive thinkers, Liberals and Democrats who wanted to protest the reign of Republican bullies and the curse of the Crimson King, Donald Trump. This was my first opportunity in a while to see the other side of the U.S. political coin. Not since Trump’s local rallies during this last election campaign had I been privy to witness groups of Republicans, Tea Party members and Nazi wanna-bes, gathered for purpose of defeating the Left-wing. I felt the need for an update on where the mindset of a non-liberal voter was at this point. Their choice had won the election (or perhaps the one they opposed lost) leaving everyone else to sit and stew in the beginnings of a bizarre new rule here in America. The era of Trump had begun. The cracked bell sounded and the sycophants charged in behind their leader…kind of…at least they fell in line, goose-stepping their way to the tune of a different lay of law. Newly elected Vice President, Mike Pence had been a heinous Governor for the state of Indiana and many Hoosiers were glad to see that religious despot leave; not so glad to see him become Vice President, though. The problem was, now, those people would be bound in the psychological cocoon of hatred they had for Pence, but it was being put in check by an even more ominous hate they had for Donald Trump. Pence stood quiet in the background and let the Crimson King do his worst. There was little outward opposition from House Republicans or Senators. Bills and agendas were being introduced by Trump that seemed to reek of cruelty for our citizens, but everyone sat tight-lipped.

Now once a strong surge of political power begins to take form, the common people supporting that leader will revel in delight, pretty much flaunting it in the face of their opposition. This seems to happen no matter which side of the political spectrum takes charge. Back when the Democrats took charge and Nancy Pelosi took her turn as Speaker of the House, Democrats and Progressive voters did it. Reagan youths were snobs in their own time; it must be part of the human condition. The difference this time would be that the winning party’s supporters were not left-wing thinkers. These weren’t tree huggers or Environmentalists or Pro-Choice Advocates. This time the winning side has gun toting, self-claimed Christians and xenophobic/homophobic small town American W.A.S.P.s from all over. This isn’t the debate team from school out there that won the election, it’s the fucking bullies. It’s the guys and girls who slammed kids heads into lockers, or threw a rock at someone and called them a ‘fag’.

I need to stop this digression into my observations of the different voting classes in America-at least, for now. My objective to go witness this rally and report to the Church-this was critical. I had to postpone that appointment and go witness this performance, live and in person. The main subject for the rally was to protest Sharia law being accepted (legally) in the U.S. and to get people to sign up to help thwart it. I was ready to grab my camera and hear their argument and be educated and entertained. This looked like it might get good. I’m always open for a big crowd demonstration, human drama at emotional moments like that can be pure ‘art of horror’ for me. I made contact with mi hermano, Miguel, and we were off.


Transmogrified – pt. 2


The Lyft driver let me off in front of the IndyFringe building on the far end of Massachusetts Avenue, in downtown Indianapolis. I appreciated the driver allowing my request to smoke pot in the back of her car-as long as I kept the window down and aired it out. They aren’t supposed to be doing that, I take it, and I wouldn’t have asked, but I was running a bit behind and had just found out that day of the LGBT social, so my pre-arrival time to get self medicated before leaving had been nixed. And I wasn’t going to smoke at the event. They didn’t need any more red lights to alert a possible uneasy public.
‘Look over there-the she-hes is smoking crazy rope!’
No, I wouldn’t burden them with that problem. I left the Lyft driver and began walking up to the crowd, feeling a bit off balanced, somewhat from the weed and somewhat from my realization of the spectacle I might be to them. None of these people knew the Reverend, from the Church; None of them knew me as a person, or an acquaintance from the streets of downtown we all tend to wander through. I was dressed casual conservative and could have easily been some huckster there to give the crowd a bunch of shit, like I’m sure they face every day from homophobes, Ultra-Christians and general Nazi-types. They didn’t know of my intention to be more educated on their lives, concerns, etc. as a member of the Indy LGBT scene. They didn’t know I was there to report on this event for my blog. On top of all that, I’m usually somewhat sheepish in crowds and feel out of place in the community-any community-wherever I go. They have medications for that, I know, and maybe someday I’ll start taking more prescribed drugs.
Yeah,  maybe.

I couldn’t have felt more welcome as I meandered through the crowd of blessed, societal misfits. A lot of the crowd reminded me of those fragile, emotional souls I’ve run into at local open mic poetry readings. People who feel different from the categorized ‘norm’ of our society. People battling with emotional issues who quell some of their depression and anxiety by expressing themselves and feeling love from within a kindred clan. Individuals at this event read poems, socialized with one another and as for me, I went with the moment and did what I came there for; I talked directly to the source, the Transgender brother/sisterhood. I met people and took pictures and got to meet the individual in charge of putting this affair on for three years. This was the first time the social had been held at IndyFringe and it seemed to be an ideal location. I asked the man in charge his take on the acceptance (or lack of) from the Gay citizens in Indianapolis. As I noted and stated to him, the online article I’d read reported a recent, small division forming between the gay and Transgender communities. He said the Trans community (if he could speak for them in toto) in Indy felt very much akin to the Gay and Lesbian community in Indianapolis and feels an acceptance of all diverse cultures here. This was a positive thing to hear and now I could dispel anything the online article had tried to startle me with…
Startling online articles.
Oh, how they’ve become a cancer on our society. Certain online sites work so hard to create clickbait that will cause a weakening audience to come back again and again. Perhaps, somewhere in the U.S. there is a city or state or region that show a small growing division between local Gay/Lesbian and Trans groups…but not here in Sleepytown. In spite any tarnished medal this city had been handed by the actions and behavior of our current Vice President and former Governor, Mike Pence, Indy people in by huge percentages welcome a diverse, cultural community. The citizens here are not a barrel full of Old Testament Christians ready to torch the wicked.

The TG social was educational but after I left, I knew I would slowly fall back into the political vat of misery and nonsense taking place in D.C.; the Crimson King continues to romp the globe, mad as a hatter, pissing off dignitaries and heads of countries left and right. Our ineffective Senate and House nervously wait to see what new pocket of chaos Donald Trump brings to their door. Orwell’s classic “1984” seems mild compared to the groundwork we are setting ourselves up for but few seem to fight it. Will anyone stop the spiraling loss of rights and hope in Amerika?
A new beacon on the horizon. Alt-right protesters planned a rally downtown the same day as Gay Pride, the upcoming Saturday…the day I had a scheduled appointment, which would make me miss Pride. My urge rose to seek out in person, that which the internet would try to tell me took place. I decided to forgo the appointment-I could reschedule. I had to seek out the Alt-Right, directly, to witness them in person and hear what they had to say.
…and that happened days later.


Transmogrified in Sleepytown; Transgressions in D.C. – pt. 1


Transmogrify, by definition, is to transform in a surprising or magical way. This is what a transgender person described to me as their moment of realization about who they were.

An emergency schedule change in my personal life would coincide with Gay Pride, so I  probably wouldn’t be attending this year. I have attended every year since moving back to Sleepytown (‘Sleepytown’-not a putdown, rather a title of empathetic respect). I have tried to cover news and report on the state of things, as I see them, live and in person. I feel it’s important for me to be one pebble in the pond, a tiny ripple of information that grows and spreads. So, there was probably no coverage of Gay Pride this year from the Church, however, I did stumble across news of the Indianapolis Transgender community holding their third annual Trans Pride Social that evening. I needed to go. My need to report what I witness for the Church was impulsive and therapeutic. The horrors being displayed online about what those cutthroat monsters in D.C. were up to had me numbed with politics. I’m tired of being disappointed-daily-by the news of our leaders.
The news.
A dystopian world of madness with no hope; that’s what we are now living in-at least the news being broadcast before our eyes tells us that. I distinguish a big difference between the online world and the one you or I walk around in, physically, but trying to figure out what broadcast news is real and what is portion is fake can be impossible. Quite often, news is blown way out of proportion-sometimes it’s an outright lie….then sometimes, it’s too real to want to believe.

The glut of transgressions being broadcast cover all subjects, all areas of community life; government, special interest, sports and entertainment…but stories being thrown on the news feed via web news and 24 hour news stations work to keep us more scared, than informed. A Recent article I read from some website splash news site said the Transgender community was feeling ostracized by the LGBT network, as a whole, so I wanted to find a local source in Indy to validate that online report, from this town’s perspective. The timing of this event couldn’t have been better. I packed up my camera and notebook and headed to see TransFest (I kept calling it that….it’s the weed talking), where I hoped to get the skinny on the Trans community here.

Online and in our televised news media, someone started a Holy War and now things are heating up. Louisiana Representative Clay Higgins is quoted as saying ‘Every conceivable measure should be engaged to hunt them (radical Muslims) down. Hunt them, identify them, and kill them. Kill them all’. For the sake of all that is good and righteous. Kill them all.’ I wonder if it was a Freudian slip when he suggests to hunt ‘them’, before identifying ‘them’. A recently published picture of Donald Trump standing with Saudi leaders next to some glowing orb makes you wonder what’s going on behind the scenes from the UAE, and how will America be involved? Various (and numerous, by number) leaders throughout the world continue to scoff at Trump and the alliance America has had for years with these countries appears to be in jeopardy. Political and religious turmoil have brought out the offensive attitude of disgruntled Trump supporters and right wing, alt-thinking extremists. Self proclaimed Christians, which now days can mean a variety of beliefs, lash out at members of an Islamic faith, or people of color, or sexually different individuals. Ex-convict and televangelist huckster Jim Bakker gets on air to warn those who refuse to follow the Crimson King, that they will bring about the Holy War with their behavior. North Korea continues to flex it’s muscle at the world, China stands poised. And Russia? No one has any fucking idea about Russia.

So while all this news media madness is in everyone’s face, day after day, a beacon finally arrived for me. The notice I received for a social gathering with the TG community came along and I had just enough time to prepare and attend. This was another chance to be enlightened by reality, rather than some homogenized, pre-taped broadcast of what someone wanted me to believe. My past history with the Trans community was enriched while living in the Denver area a few years back. I had a contract job gig that involved helping a local independent video producer who was working on a documentary about the Transgender community. I got to meet and listen in on interviews with a huge group of TG people from around Denver and all the bullshit they waded through just trying to get by in life. Sad tales of abuse and violence thrust on them. If anyone needs support groups, it’s the Transgender people of the United States. I felt they are loved and accepted by the Gay Community, in general, and even a splinter percentage of the heterosexual tribes, but Trans folk are still a splinter entity of society that has needed help and most often, have been met with opposition and violent rebuttal.

My ride pulled up to the local theater/arts building where the social would take place…(contd.)


What Now?


More scotch to inhale while I try to make sense of it all-or, at least, make sense from some of it. There are so many people out there, outside the confides of the Church, hopped up on fear, high fructose corn syrup and a pinch of Prozac. They’ve been watching their favorite news channel too long and now, they want to head out the front door with a loaded pistol; the problem is, they aren’t sure which way they want to point the gun….outward, or inward?

Amerika is past the Hundred Day marker, which was displayed out on the internet and news stations like some magical, barrier against evil. “He’ll never make it past the first hundred days” people cried, (more likely, they would type and send on social media) but Trump did, and the power of Juju left the political one hundred theorem dead in the road; so, now what the fuck do you do? Go get him out of office, right?

Those of you who would oppose the Crimson King, know this: there are some sneaky distractions at work to take you off course of your guided mission. One distraction is the pestering reverse chain-of-command. Those who want Donald Trump thrown out of office know if he goes, next to step in as President would be Mike Pence. From there, say, Pence were miraculously covered in damning evidence that took him out under Impeachment. Next in line would be Paul Ryan. After Ryan would be Orin Hatch. The odds of that many men getting tossed out of office are astronomical, and that means one of those bastards would be left in charge-nobody is thrilled about any of those choices…that’s all one distraction.

Then there’s the Fear, the intimidating glut of shock being pumped into our minds on a daily basis. We’re being choked throughout the day with an onslaught of news updates and bizarre non-newsworthy information to numb you into a state of lethargy. Media conglomerates figured out how to continually distract you with hyped up stories or tabloid style images. They leave you wanting more and that means, if there is no shocking revelation for the day, they had better come up with one fast. News became a growing commodity back when it made the jump to 24 hour coverage. That put them constantly on the prowl for news to suck you in. News to make their numbers pull in dollars to keep shareholders happy. The stories these huge media outlets get from Trump are like manna from Heaven, and justice plays backseat to finances…it’s all about the numbers. Trump is a gravy train of daily news…that’s another distraction.

There are small tribes on the internet trying to suck money from lost souls, promising people that by contributing money, they make a difference…somehow. I haven’t figured out that logic yet. You can’t just state something and it becomes so. The Republican National Committee has a Trump gold card they want to issue me for a five dollar donation. The kicker line in the email message they sent was “I know this would look great in your wallet”. The card claims no viable use of any kind, it has no value or use, but it would look great in my wallet. The other side of our American political spectrum is just as bad. End Citizens United, an assertive left wing group, unleashed a barrage of emails on a campaign to solicit funds so they could launch a ‘major ad campaign‘ to try and thwart the Crimson King. Trying to fund a revolution, or supporting freedom and justice via PayPal can get you entangled in a shitstorm of solicitations from various organizations wanting your cash. Knowing who is legitimate can be as tough as figuring out if the homeless guy you’re about to give a dollar to will spend it on food or booze. This is another distraction.

So those three examples are not the only distractions out there, but they are three of the top ones. No solid attempt, to date, has taken place to stop this current President. A few new chinks in the Republican armor are showing; Republican Congressman Al Green (TX) called for Impeachment and murmurs from others, like Justin Amash (Rep. R,  Mich.) show definite signs of possible dissension from the President. Various Government offices are defying orders from Trump. People all over shout how much they loathe the man. It’s a bumpy, wild part of the ride, folks, and I personally believe that for Trump to leave Office, he’ll have to suffer a serious childlike behavior spat and waive himself out of the job-just decide he doesn’t want to play anymore and walk away. That, or a coup. The problem with the latter option is, the coup may not come from angered Americans. It may come as swift as a company merger; you wake up one day and begin to realize that the laws you vote on and the people you elect to represent you are ineffective and do very little to help you or your community…your country. You discover the strings are being pulled by someone else. You recognize a puppet dictator in front of you that doesn’t appear to have the common sense of an ashtray. He leads you. He Lords over you.
Welcome to the Church.


Life Goes On Here in Hell


Trying to follow the line of events brought forth by this current administration is a near impossible task. The pews of the Church are crammed with insane items of interest. A draining emotional witnessing of America being slowly torn apart…slowly…so much to take on. I try to keep tabs on each day’s chain of events but the Crimson King is not making it easy. He works with swift, lethal action and implements a fistful of insane policies, then ducks out. He’ll throw some poor bastard from his staff out there to address his policies to our nation, and while reporters hammer away at that human shield, the King moves on to his next nefarious deal. At times, Trump’s actions appear to have no logical  agenda; then, they turn around and bring us all to the point of paranoia and conspiracy, trying to second guess his next move. His writing and verbal skills are attune to those of a ninth grade punk from Queens. He’s a bully, not very intelligent and really hellbent in favor of payback on those who would oppose him. He reminds one of Al Capone, mixed in with a smattering of Il Duce (Mussolini) and Tony Soprano…surely someone of more intelligence than Trump is behind the coup of our country.

I kept trying to start new posts on whatever new explosion of political crap the president threw out for the public to gnaw on. Before I could get halfway through a finished writing, a new dawn would rise here in Hell and bam!, Trump goes into some other distracting action. No one has enough time to fully ingest the insanity du jour before another one comes along and reminds us all that yes, we are currently being tormented in Hell.

My timeline marker for the most recent event(s) the media’s eye focused on is the firing of James Comey from his position as FBI Director. A crafty chain of events that happened with that one. Comey was appointed FBI Director back in 2013, by President Barack Obama. Part of Comey’s duties included overseeing the investigation of Hillary Clinton’s emails, in connection with this past election. Obama left office and the era of the Crimson King rang in. Comey again served on as FBI Director. He was spared the cut so many from Obama’s administration suffered. I suppose Trump felt this six foot eight fellow New Yorker could dig up the info he would need to put Hillary in jail. On March 20 of this year, Comey went before the House Intelligence Committee and announced that the FBI had been running an ongoing investigation into the possible interference Russia had with this past election. Comey also said there was possible evidence of coordination between Trump associates and Russia. A few months later, Trump fires Comey as Director of the FBI. The press and public response (majority) was to cry ‘foul’ and make comparisons of Trump to Richard Nixon, who staged a similar chain of actions when he was under investigation for his participation in the Watergate scandal, an event which took down his reign of power. The evening after Comey was dismissed, reporters flocked around White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer who lurked by some tall shrubs on the White House lawn, in the dark.  He remained there until executive assistant Janet Montesi faced reporters and told them Spicer would answer questions, as long as they did not film him doing so. Spicer steps out and demands they just ‘turn off the lights’ before continuing.

Spicer:  “We’ll take care of this….can you just turn that light off?”

The conversation with reporters took place and the next day, up pops principal Deputy White House Press secretary (du moment) Sarah Huckabee to field the Administration’s official response to the accusations that Comey was fired for investigating possible Russia ties with Trump.

Committees are forming inside Congress now, debating whether we need to march forward with investigating possible Russian ties to this past election. Older Trump atrocities begin to fade and so many throughout the world begin to forget events like the protest against the oil pipeline, or the water issues, our nation’s crumbling infrastructures and environmental crimes against nature. Bills are being presented to our lawmakers and politicians, so large that no human could possibly read the document before voting to pass. No accomplishments seem to address America’s problems, yet a bounty full of accomplishments seem to be taking place within the expensive game of politics. People are hired, fired, moved around, and the everyday things that pay the average person’s bills never change. We’ve become a stagnant nation. The stagnation is deep, folks, and harassing suspected ‘Muslims’ does nothing to stop that rotting of the core. Shipping aliens out of America doesn’t seem to be doing anything but making us a more shamed nation. Denying all science in favor of religious texts written thousands of years ago weakens our intelligence as a country. There are tribes of people out there, self-proclaimed Christians, yet they are actually more like psychotic Berserkers. There are pockets of dullards that call themselves Republican, who are actually bastardized remnants and an evoked evil brought about by fear mongering. A finite amount of illogical, moronic actions are crumbling us apart as a nation and will cause us to self implode, and the Crimson King races off to start another fire….this is what it looks like here in Hell.


In the Name of Science


This past weekend, science minded people gathered throughout various U.S. cities (Indianapolis being one of them) to protest Donald Trump and his Administration of henchmen, in the name of science. I went to the demonstration under the (wrong) assumption that it would be a protest, complete with shouting people holding signs and bricks. I always assume that and I’m always disappointed; I set the bar high when it comes to what I consider a ‘protest’. Regardless, mi hermano Miguel and I would jaunt down there to record the event with our cameras and get a look at what science could bring to the table of protest. Maybe someone would show up with schematics to build a death robot to turn on the Crimson King-but then we’d all be facing takeover by machines. We might want to wait on that option a bit longer.

When we arrived at the West side of the capital, I could tell this was more a family outing than a demonstration. We closed in on the event and bordering the sidewalk were hawkers selling pink shirts with some political slogan and I didn’t feel like venturing close enough to read. They had one of those shirts thrown over a life sized cutout of Hillary Clinton; merchants preying on people’s emotions, hoping they’ll buy a memento of the day, a real act of civil defiance at the cost of a pricey t-shirt. We drudged beyond the hawkers, closer toward the eye of the hurricane, the arena of those who would protest in the name of science. A row of port-o-lets lined the sidewalk, which I assume were placed there for convenience of those demonstrating. When a rally has pre-arranged restroom facilities, you can guess it won’t get too violent. Restroom facilities for a demonstration? Jesus. What next? booth seating for senior citizens? I felt guilty being the guy to stink out a port-o-let with the smell of cannabis, but those plastic outhouses are a great spot to light up away from prying eyes and I was ready for some medication. Sleepytown is still a state where no part of weed consumption is legal, so it’s best to stay hidden from anyone who might gawk or draw attention to you-plus, the alternative for restroom users was the smell of shit and disinfectant, so, I didn’t feel too guilty.

We estimated the crowd at two thousand people, some holding signs expressing anger from the scientific community. Some folks came in costume, there were more tables with merch to buy… This wasn’t a community in anger; they were families gathered for an outing. People brought dogs and children-you don’t bring kids and animals to a serious march against the System. The attendees planned a post-speech march to Military Park, located blocks away from here; that turned out to be as much a milquetoast display of nothingness as the rally itself. A noticed march should block major traffic veins, disrupt shit, but I knew that wouldn’t happen. There would probably be police escorts to guide the mob along like school children.

We spent time wandering the crowd, stoned, taking pictures and stopping for coffee across the street at the Marriott. We’d had our fill of the science rally the minute one of the speakers summed it up by telling the crowd “I don’t know how we’re going to solve this problem”. Like so many of these protests, those in defiance will state what makes them mad, but have no soluble solution to address their grievances. Seeing this rally brought my mind back again to the protests of 2011, when a chunk of our nation was at wit’s end with people like George Bush Jr. and Dick Cheney. Karl Rove and John Boehner were the dreaded political assholes of that era, and the protest movements to remove them or their policies was as ineffective as these current day efforts to dethrone the Crimson King.

I did one last pipe up in the port-o-let before heading onto the Earth Day event in Military Park. They had tents set up with informative displays from various groups of Eco-friendly companies giving out pens and other crap, like natural food snack samples. I avoid giveaway snacks-one of my personal quirks. I rarely take free sample handouts at stores…my deep neurosis won’t allow it and I knew it would kill my weed buzz. Eventually, the protestors showed up and filled the park with curiosity and their relief that the speeches were over. They were ready to chow down on something from one of the food trucks sent there to cater those angered by our oppressors, or to mill around looking at crafts and vegetarian junk food.

These protests will keep going on and I’ll continue to observe them for the Church, as those who consider themselves more intelligent than our current leader charter more and more rallies and demonstrations. Demonstrations of this caliber is something the Trump Administration can deal with, because they have no bite, no real threat to take him out of his office. If you research the history of Donald Trump, you will find that his normal modus operandi is the same catch-me-if-you-can game he’s played for decades. If the science community really wants to take him out of office, they had better come up with a better plan than a bunch of witty cardboard signs.

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