6/13: Playing With Protestors
Just when I thought I was turning into a commie, I get thrust back into reality. Yesterday I had to drive to a pharmacy about 15-20 minutes away from my house to pick up a prescription for my one cat who’s suffering from a urinary tract infection. As I was turning onto the road leading up to this store, I noticed this long, silver-haired guy standing on a corner with a sign reading something like, “2000 soldiers dead is 2000 too much,” or something of that nature. After my pleasant visit to the pharmacy (the vet screwed up the dosage amount or something; I was then told that it would take at least an hour to fill and that they would deliver the drugs to my house) I got the chance to drive past this idiot. Remembering the good ol’ days back when I lived at Sappy Valley, which had a student protest about something-or-other several times a week, I got to re-live the vigor of my youth. As I was waiting patiently by the yield sign where he was standing, I pointed at him, laughed and yelled, “Get a job, hippie!” The rest of the drive home was gravy.
This made me think back to all the good times I had making fun of protesters and their stupid causes. Now I doubt nothing will be better than the time I took a “Free Mumia” flyer from some pseudo-hippie during one of those Penn State marches, shoved it down my pants, wiped my crack with it, and gave it back to dumbfounded protestor-ette. However, there was another time that ranks right up there. I mentioned this story a few times at the TSM boards, but it bears repeating so here I go again.
[Flashback mode on]
I was manning some stupid booth for a school club I was part of during my college days when suddenly, about 20 or so feet across from me, these two bald-headed women from the SOCIALIST EQUALITY PARTY started setting up their stand to pass out propaganda to the mindless teens and twenty-somethings that roamed the halls. Now this duo had all the usual posters up for leftist causes like “Free Mumia,” “Abortion is a choice,” and “Lift the embargo on Cuba.” However, they had one that pissed me off, and that was “Jail the cops who killed Johnny Gammage.” Now back around 1995, there was the Steeler – Ray Seals – who had a cousin that got pulled over in the middle of the night by a group of Shittsburgh PO-lice. Instead of doing what the officers told him to do, Gammage started some shit with them. One thing led to another and the PO-lice eventually had Gammage pinned to the road, where he died of asphyxiation. The day before my booth-sitting one of the officers, John Vojtas, got acquitted. (Or was it a mistrial? I forget.) This of course pissed off just about every lefty out there. Now I guess it was a shame the guy died and all, but it could have been prevented if he didn’t start shit with the cops. So to that I say fuck him. Anyway, I had been hearing this hippie psychobabble for a day or so now, and when you’re in a liberal arts shithole like I was in, days can seem like years. (Here's some background info on the case: Link 1. Link 2.
It was at this time when a chick I knew came up and we started talking. I went to get several pieces of paper, some tape and a Sharpie. As she saw me write in large letters “Vojtas Acquitted: One Down, Three To Go,” she started laughing and said, “You’re on you own.” I taped the sign up to my booth, sat back and waited. About 10 minutes went by when I got my first threat by some black chick. Another five or so minutes went by before I got my second threat. These exchanges were nothing note-worthy; just garbage like “What’s this?” and “You think the cops are innocent?” Each time I politely responded and said that Gammage could have prevented his death by obeying the officers. Another person came up to me shortly thereafter and threatened to rip my sign down, to which I smiled and said, “Well then I’ll just make another.” That didn’t go over too well. After a few more threats, the Assistant to the Dean of Students visited me and told me to take my sign down. When I asked why she replied, “Because I’ve been getting complaints all morning about it.” When I pointed out that the feminazis across from me had similar inflammatory rhetoric posted, this pencil pusher said, “They reserved that booth to talk about those subjects, you didn’t reserve this booth to do that.” When I pointed out that the Gammage decision took place yesterday and I doubted that the SOCIALIST EQUALITY PATY reserved that booth as late as yesterday afternoon to talk about the Gammage mistrial, this lady looked at me, sighed and said, “If I tell them to take their sign down will you take yours down, too?” It was at that point I cashed in my chips. Gee, I had always thought that Academia encouraged free thought and expression. For the record I did get one voice of support, but that was from a kid who probably grew up to be a bigger curmudgeon than me. Hey, I’ll take what I can get.
[/Flashback mode off]
Now back to yesterday's events. The pharmacy people screwed up my address, so instead of getting those meds I mentioned above at 6:30 p.m., which was when I was told they would be delivered, they didn’t show up until 8 p.m., and that was after I had to give the courier directions over the phone three separate times, which is unfortunate because my house is just a shot across Route 30. Then again, if you’re looking for “Fourth” Drive instead of “Forrest” Drive, you might be in your vehicle for a while. Also, the delivery guy had a Ben Roethlisberger t-shirt on; I guess he was hoping the power of the shirt would help Big Ben’s surgical efforts.
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