America, fuck yeah.
Lord knows I love the free speech. The fact that I live in a country where I can spout my nonsense whether people want to hear it or not is something I hold dear.
Protesters, you’re starting to get on my nerves.
It was okay last week when I had to leave for work an hour early to avoid “disruption of the city.” You had to get their attention. From the swelling masses in Waterfront Park to the news choppers and satellite trucks, it’s obvious we knew you were there, and were serious.
During the protest, it took 45 minutes to get from SE 11th and Madison to the middle of the Hawthorne Bridge. By bus. I got off mid-span and walked. Sure, it was nice out and walking is good for you. But I really had to be somewhere, and simply completing my bus ride would have accomplished that.
I can see how you’d want to continue your momentum through the weekend. I mean, it’s the weekend! Nobody has to work until Monday, right? Let’s have a camp out/slumber party in the middle of downtown. It’ll be like waiting for the new Harry Potter movie, except with beer.
Come Monday, you are still there. Why? You don’t have a job? Well, how is the man keeping you down? You can’t be held down until you begin to rise. Get the fuck up and get to work. Sleeping downtown in the rain is not going to improve anyone’s situation, especially the two or three homeless people who managed to get away with sleeping in that park before y’all showed up.
Yes, I have selfish motives. I like catching the bus where it normally stops. I like cutting through that park after midnight, though it’s technically illegal. Police tend to ignore me, though it gives them probable cause to make contact. I’m guessing that consideration has flown out the window.
I passed through the Occupation twice yesterday. Once in the daylight, which is what you see on the news. Dudes in dreads blasting techno music, suits talking to advocates. It’d be nice to see the park so busy in a less confrontational situation.
Like the Portland Marathon. But that horse has been whipped to death.
How is it after midnight? The functional bus stop near the Occupation was crowded; everyone had to migrate there because no one knows where the fucking buses are going to end up. I walked passed the outskirts of the camp.
Though well past bedtime, the park was abuzz. Police officers monitored the crowd from the sidewalk, looking like they would rather be out fighting crime than babysitting hippies. The rain, with all the tarps and tents, is going to leave the park a sloppy mudhole. That’ll cost ya. Oh, and the cops getting the overtime? They love you, too. Someone’s getting a new boat for Xmas.
Of course, you won’t have to pay for any of that, because you don’t have a job, don’t pay taxes, and corporations suck.
I’m not all grumbles, though. I did find amusement as I walked past the encampment. In the relative quiet of the night, the sound that caught my ear?
Random belches, like human bullfrogs. (PBR is corporate as well, kiddies.) It was like the scene from Blazing Saddles.
Turning downtown into a squatter’s camp is not going to improve our lot in life. Go home, take a bath and give downtown back to the bums and the working poor.
As it is, you’re losing us.