I watched a man shout out of his auto to a passing pedesterian. Best I can come up with is the pedestrian jay-walked or didn’t give the man the proper right-of-way… maybe. After giving the driver a nominal backward glance and shrug — more or less what I would do in that situation– the driver swirved to a park, rushed out, rushed over, and shoved the guy hard into the brick sidewalk.

“I’m calling the police!” the bruised, bloodied man shivered, as he tried to get himself up.
“I don’t fucking give a shit!” the man who just committed battery yelled back, muttering “Serves him right.”

I stood there, stunned. The rest of the crowd had more or less the same “WTF” reaction as I. I walked backward as a small crowd gathered necessary information, and left after I was certain someone had gotten the license plate number.

Somewhere in Florida, a man tried to drive over Katherine Harris. And another man threatened to kill his girlfriend for supporting Kerry.

Later, I watch from the distance the gathering of the weekly war protesters. Charming group, but I’m not sure any of them — or the majority of them — should be voting for Kerry. A majority of them probably will be or have, though certainly not all of them. From their perspective, I’m not certain there really is a difference. Granted, the two “Protest Warriors” (http://www.protestwarrior.com) with their Bush hats and their signs saying “Peace Through Ignorance” can say that there’s a difference.

I asked a LaRouchite why LaRouche endorsed John Kerry. The answer: “Basically we need to take over the Democratic Party.” Roughly the same answer that the peaceniks would have for why they’re voting for Kerry: vote for him, then hold his feet to the fire.

I take my leave. We’re at Orange, by the way. Which was the state we knew we’d be at now.

They’re part of the “Trick or Vote” campaign — young 18 to early 20 somethings tying Halloween in with the election.

They’re a marching band. One has badger ears. Another has bear ears. One is beating a drum. Another is playing some other instrument. And one is jumping out at cars in traffic, handing brochures willy-nilly.

I’m not impressed.

Two versions of the poster exist.

A raw outline drawing of your typical alien. The headline says, “People Vote Earth People”

A word balloon so as the alien is saying “Why are they so frantic? They are in a race. They do not understand. I wish there was some way I could materialize in my true formation to show some of the truths I know of. I wish I could help them. Unfortunately because of their history of mass persecution and genicide I don’t feel comfortable at all with such a vulnerable situation.”

A cryptic, pro-voting message. It leaves a lot of blank space at the bottom. The blank space is filled in version #2 of the poster, and this is a rough memory:

“I wish I could tell them that Voting and elections are charades. A way of making it seem like the powerless have power, even while everything that is happening is outside of their control.”

The “If voting made a difference, they’d make it illegal” attitude. An anti-voting message.

I don’t know what to make of the two versions of this poster. Who dun it. Why they exist. Which is the authentic vision the artist had in mind.

All I can say is that some words are, strangely enough, white-outed. I may have to take a closer examination of the two versions to compare and contrast.

“What time is it? 6:30?”

A curious question. 6:30 is an absurdity.

“More like 9:30,” I say — even though it is more like 9:50, it’s difficult to shake the “thirty” rhythm in supplying an answer.

“Yeah. You’re a little late if you’re thinking it’s 6:30”, another man says. He then goes off on a little flourish about the death of summer and the coming of winter. “It’s autumn. October. The season of chaning leave colors. In the year of the Red Sox.”

“Ah… I see,” the man lost to three hours ago says. “The sun has moved to the other side of the Earth.”

“No. The Earth has rotated its axis around the sun.”

Next comes a long disgussion of East, West, North, South. “What states are the furthest north, the furthest east, the furthest west, and the furthest south? Here’s a hint: One of them is three of those.”

I walk to a different location, and hear — mid conversation:

“I live by ‘something or other’ Ministries… a real right wing group, and they‘re after me. Someone other than I called a veteran who lives in my neighborhood ‘Trailer Park Scum supporting a war for the Security of Israel’, and someone said I said that, so now they‘re after me. Everybody‘s against me!”

A one-sided discussion continues with him and another man, and somewhere he says: “I used to be a Libertarian, now I’m a Communist. Happened after Post-Contract With America America. If Peru can provide health care, why can’t America?” AND:

“I’ve talked with some very smart folks for the past few weeks. Handing out pamphlets. I think everyone should read this?”

He pulls out a Lyndon LaRouche pamphlet. He offers it to anyone and everyone. Nobody bites.

“Vote for Kerry.”
Someone shrugs, “Already have.”

The man who thinks it’s 6:30 comes over, mumbles something or other. The former Libertarian Communist LaRouchite Kerry supporter says to me, “I’m dumb, but I’m not as dumb as he is.”

I half want to say, “You’re not dumb”, but I just go ahead and give a smirk and a knowing nod.

August 2002. Remarked on in the national media, front page in the Portland Tribune, somewhere in the back of the Oregonian…

It was the type of protest that gives the governorship to Ronald Reagan and the presidency to Richard Nixon. And gives the name “Little Beirut” to Portland, as Bush’s father named the city.

“Makes you long for banners with ‘Socialist Workers Party’ and ‘International ANSWER’, eh?”

With equal amounts of inspiration and dreadfulness. Not so much depressing, as all the other post – 9/11 protests had been — what, with a collection of 30 or so neo-hippies and/or “gutter-punk” anarchists.

Feel free to do that. I believe the conversation I overheard at the bust-stop as a routine Friday-evening (and slightly more mainstream) drum-line went by was “Yeah. I outgrew that 30 years ago.”

But, if you get a thousand or more people to gather… people will notice. Even if it doesn’t play in Peyoria very well, as the case with that September protest (though later protests would play better in Peyoria).

What gathers a thousand people?

In this case: George W Bush was in town, in a downtown hotel, raising funds for Gordon Smith’s campaign war-chest. Gordon Smith is that curious Republican Senator: depending on the audience, he’s conservative, moderate, liberal. If my memory serves right, the Cheney appearance for the same effect a couple months prior only drew a hundred. I probably walked through the crowd enough to be considered part of the Bush crowd; I can’t say the same thing for the Cheney one. That may represent the natural flow of opposition as we transitioned to the war-drums into Iraq. (A later Cheney appearance would present itself with the new “free speech area” contraption: WIRE FENCING. I didn’t see it first-hand, but I heard about it. I eye aiiie.)

The common chant was a bit different from “Give Peace a Chance”: “George Bush is a son of a bitch!”

There’s a charm therein. It at least works as an umbrella that sits the porpouri of left-wing causes being paraded around. They were being yelled out by a young woman, standing atop a fire hydrant, shouting “Stand Up! Stand up for (fill in the blank!) Stand Up! Stand Up Against (—-)!” Etc. Etc. Etc. Some I like more than others.

I cringed at the sign saying “Forget Israel! Free Palestine!” And, while there are style-points in delaying the SUVs for a few red-lights and not doing the same for more fuel efficient cars, the fact is: the drivers of the fuel efficient car hates being delayed as much as the SUV… and they’re right behind them.

Ari Fleischer said this of it: “We did not have any inkling” that such protest would occur, White House press secretary Ari Fleischer told reporters. Confusing, considering Bush’s father gave it that nickname. And, considering that the Portland Police Department said that this was what they were expecting.

There were clues the demonstration could get nasty on the Web sites of groups involved.

Preparations for the protest were posted on the Internet as early as Aug. 7 and continued constantly under such headings as “Tear gas canisters cause severe thermal burns,” “Bush to visit beautiful Portland in August, you should too,” and “What happens if you’re arrested for civil disobedience?”

Well, considering that the police sprayed tear gas at the crowd, I have to wonder what’s wrong with helpful suggestions about the severe thermal burns that tear gas produces. It seems to me like helpful advice.

Some weird man held a sign saying “Band bugs from being inserted in me”. I assume “band” was a mis-spelling of “ban”. I assume it’s some form of schizerophrenia. (Though, to be frank, these are schizophrenic times.) At any rate, if someone wanted to do “wacky protest footage” (I recall a Fox News segment during one of the two 2000 Political Conventions that by-passed the batch of WTO-types and the “Shadow Conventions” held by Ariana Huffington and went to the odd woman shouting “Remember Lyme Disease!”. The voice-over saying “There are protesters promoting obscure causes.” Which begs the question: What’s so wrong with Lyme Disease Research?)

Local media coverage is interesting. Basically, flipping through the four news broadcasts: UPN’s was the most sympathetic to the protestors. It seems to be because their reporters were hit the hardest with gas-spray, and thus were able to captur footage of police in riot gear tossing rubber bullets right at their camera — footage that puts whatever appeared at the local indymedia site to shame. Either ABC’s or NBC’s — I don’t remember which– seemed to describe the protests entirely from the viewpoint of police-officers’ eyes. This network was lucky enough not to be hit by the rubber bullets, I guess.

One of them, I think CBS, did the most annoying and egregious ass-licking of Bush I’ve ever seen, going to weather saying “Bush, if you’re watching, this is how the weather’s going to look when you leave tomorrow morning…”

And try the front cover of the Oregon compared to the Portland Tribune. Unfortunately, the format for the Oregonian’s online is such that I can’t find a reliable mock-example, but the Page 1 headline was something like “Bush’s Environmental Policy to Provide Oregon Jobs”! (a classic spit-take was my reaction…) Yippee- cayak! Other features on the front page essentially how great his trip was, and the import it shows that Gordon Smith’s re-election chances are for the Senate races. Nothing on the front page about the demonstrations… probably pushed to page 2 The Portland Tribune, (honestly, a sort of sad-sack freebie): Bush Protest Turns Angry and Ugly.

Two different universes, The Oregonian and the Portland Tribune. No matter how you cover the story, The story of the protests is more significant than the Bush fund-raiser.

But, regarding the Oregonian and the local media’s fawning over Bush: that was what everything in the media looked like from roughly September 12, 2001 to the middle of Spring 2003. Still does in certain sectors and to a certain degree.

The late news cast leaves with the media person standing before some graffiti, marked there at the end of the day, sometime after the pepper-spray and rubber bullets spurred the worst of the lot, with the words “Bush Knew”. I have to groan. It makes for gripping footage for a later”Mad as Hell TV” show. (public access.)

Anyway, read about him (Ullysseus Simpson Grant), he is far more interesting than Estes Kefauver ever could have been. BTW, I met Kowfever once. I was not impressed with him but then he probably was not very impressed with me either. No matter, he was strictly a one-trick Pony as far as I could tell and I did not do any work for him in any way. I do not remember him as doing anything at all at the Convention that year, just faded away into the great southern slough and was never heard from again.

I eye Aye…

My father, my brother, and I are in Seattle.

My father is telling my brother a story. He went to a local jeweler to have some of mom’s rings re-sized.

The next day, he received a call. The store was suddenly closing on Friday. Come pick up your rings. And, everyone there is being laid off.

Unrelated, I mumble a bumper-sticker I see. “Hm. ‘Impeach Bush’.”

Dad: Is that a political statement?
Me: Well, it’s a political bumper-sticker…

“Yeah, back in 1992 I met Bill Clinton and Al Gore. The man I really wanted to meet was Al Gore. I took a good look at all his policy positions, and I was impressed.”

This sort of crashed my whole worldview. I didn’t know a full-frontal Al Gore supporter actually existed. I assumed just about everyone who voted for Gore in the 2000 election voted for him in a vague sense of desperation, even technocratic Democrats… with the exception of some Jewish voters in Florida, Joe Lieberman’s ethnic vote.

A mildly amusing game I had during the 2000 campaign: I’d say “Just picture Al Gore’s State of the Union speech.” Whoever I was talking to would groan. “Now imagine George Bush’s State of the Union speech.” And, we’d have a deeper groan, or in the case of my mother who would go on to vote for Bush wishing she could vote for John McCain, a shake of the head. Granted, the reaction is somewhat visceral, and not tied with any reaction to policy — Bush’s mangled English versus Gore’s prissy mannerisms. A wonkish supporter of Gore would be better able to look past these surface problems, and — I guess by that virtue — look past the more substantial and meaningful problems with Al Gore.

“So, you think that Al Gore could beat George W Bush this time out?” At the time, Bush was riding high after the 2002 midterm elections.

“Well, sure. If he just lays it all out there and fights, and lays it all out there.”

It was right about then that I formulated by then-out of conventional thought that Al Gore would not run for president.

It’s post midnight at a bus-stop. The buses don’t take off that often, and judging by the schedule, I missed the previous bus by a few minutes and have to wait an obnoxious amount of time for the next one.

I’m standing with 3 other young men. An artistic type– the kind who eschews all television– a neighbor I see occasionally on the street, who creates his own clothes… he wears a small top hat. His slightly more culturally-in-tuned friend. And a third individual, on the other side of the bus stop.

The two discuss their late night bus-stop encounters with crack addicts. “So, he runs here… all paranoid, and goes into the corner, hiding behind me. I turn to him and say ‘Go away.’ He fidgets about, and it takes three demands for him to leave for him to leave.”

It’s an interesting conversation. I, myself, have on a few occasions accidentally thrown some signals to drug dealers and drug users. I must remember to modify my walking behaviour.

Along comes a guy, a decade and a half older than us twenty-somethings, waving a stick (seemingly from the bottom of a chair) in the air. “Hey!” He turns to the artistic type. “You support the troops?”

“Um.”

“‘Cause you gotta support the troops.”

“It depends on what you mean by the question. I don’t support war… like, ever. I guess I support people who feel strongly enough to… well, I hate the government’s action and I’m forced to differentate some things.”

“That’s cool.” The man walks ahead, still waving his stick in the air.

“Well, that was scary. But, seeing as he had a stick, I’m glad there wasn’t a wrong answer.”

I don’t vote because it doesn’t matter. I lived in the deep south, New Orleans, and I can tell you — there was nothing unique about Florida. That one just happened to be where the strings got tangled up.

The election is over. They’ve already decided it. Bush is still going to be there… I mean, what the hell is a JohnKerry?

The programming and conditioning we get from the teleivision news… it’s toxic. Did you see how they pumped up Reagan last week? That was absurd. I was there. He was not all that.

Other than that… you see that “Missing Poster” outside on the window. Turn on the news and we get nonstop coverage of this other missing girl. Not to bash on either of them — but why’s the coverage different? That girl’s probably in a better place. There are plenty of missing children! It’s all money, I say.

Another case of programming: you’re driving along, and see the police turn their lights on. It doesn’t matter that you’ve done nothing wrong, you still get nervous. That’s programming.

(Well, it’s … you see… you just don’t know what little item from the past, long forgotten, may be back on their record.)

That’s right! That’s right!

(there was plenty more, but that’s enough for the moment… Dwell us out of a generic sense of “victimhood”, while we’re at it.)