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A line of approximately 75 complete imbeciles all singing, “All we are saying, is give peace a chance.” And a lone OC reporter that cannot help but think, “We did give peace a chance, and we caught four 767’s up our collective asses.” I guess it wouldn’t be Eugene if there weren’t people trying to protect other people that wouldn’t hesitate to kill them.
Yes, just as fast as a massive tragedy can bring an entire country together, it splinters like 30-year-old unvarnished pine. However, this article is not to debate the morality of the war in Afghanistan. If you want to hear the Commentator’s stance on that, call Tim Dreier. I did about a week ago — he is still talking. I hung up on him after 36 hours and later I had to stick explosives in my phone jack. I know that I’m about as likely to get through to the protesters via the Commentator as the protesters are to get through to Washington via the Eugene Federal Building. No, most likely the person holding this magazine is some other hate-filled bastard like myself. So, to that end, I say we grab a beer and a lawn chair and laugh at the sheep who honestly believe that the rest of the world gives a shit about them and their little protest.
Osama bin Laden has got to be laughing his ass off. This has got to be the only country in the world where half the people could die in a massive nuclear strike, and there would still be some people dressed in hemp protesting any retaliation. The part I find particularly amusing is how quickly they will rationalize the attack on America. Yeah, it’s our fault that some militant Islamic extremists attacked the buildings, murdering thousands of innocent people, so therefore, we shouldn’t be destroying their military targets. I also love their slogan, “Justice Not War.” How exactly do we get justice without war? Do they actually believe if we just ask the Taliban really, really nicely, they will consider turning over bin Laden? I don’t think it would instill a lot of confidence in our nation to hear Bush on CNN saying, “Pleeeease can we have bin Laden? Pretty please with sugar on top?”
Why the Eugene Federal Building? According to one protester, “Why not?” It’s hard to argue with that logic, but let’s face it; you would have just as much impact marching down to the liquor store. Then, you could bring me a bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the way back. And while you’re at it, would you mind marching over to Albertson’s? I’m out of toothpaste.
I have come to realize that for them, it doesn’t matter why we are going to war anymore. These assholes don’t give any more of a rat’s ass about people in Afghanistan than I do. They just love to protest. I don’t understand why, but they get a rush from speaking out on what they truly believe in. Just out of curiosity, I tried it myself. I made some signs and went to the Amphitheater, and all I got was another ticket for being drunk and disorderly. Apparently anti-war protests are okay, but anti-pants protests raise “decency” issues. This whole thing boils down to the fact that some people genuinely enjoy being self-righteous indignant bastards living out their retro 1960’s wet dream. However, it is time to face unpleasant truths: the 60’s are over, this isn’t the Vietnam War, marching to the Eugene Federal Building isn’t going to accomplish anything and your only media coverage is me, a smart-ass with a digital camera who wants nothing more than to laugh at you. The proof of this: I have found on two separate occasions people holding up signs that have nothing to do with the protest at hand. I know it’s hard to keep track of your busy schedule, but if we have to stay sober long enough to publish a magazine, then damn it, you can at least use the correct slab of cardboard.
On November 4, the odyssey started at 4:30pm, ten minutes after they all piled into a Volkswagon to puff the magic dragon. They gathered their signs and their banners and tried to do some last minute recruiting. Those with actual lives simply passed by trying not to make eye contact lest they be talked into carrying a sign downtown. Others stopped to watch for a while before shaking their heads in disgust and walking off. Once assembled, this band of peace-mongering pot smokers marched down 13th toward the dorms. On the way they were greeted by the yells of frat boys: “War YES!!,” “Bomb the bastards to death,” and the occasional, “Fuck you, goddamned hippies!” followed by the finger. Normally I tend to despise frat boys, but once in a while the loud, obnoxious yelling of these over-privileged pricks makes everything right with the world again.
I tagged along, taking pictures and making mental notes of what I saw. The great thing about these people is that they think everyone is on their side. As I was walking and taking pictures, I met one guy who appeared to be the leader. He was practically giving me a tour of the protest, pointing out interesting things and suggesting camera angles. The whole time people were thanking me. One protester said, “Thanks a lot. Most members of the media don’t cover these things.” Of course, most members of the press aren’t evil sons of bitches. Meanwhile, I was getting a lot of e-mail addresses to send the pictures and a copy of my story should I write one. I’m still debating whether or not to just say “screw them,” or send them this story complete with the edited pictures.
After doing a lap around the University, the protesters wisely decided to get out before someone re-enacted Kent State. They moved on to irritate the rest of the city. The whole way, protesters mistook honks by drivers as support, as opposed to a request that they remove their asses from the intersection before the traffic light goes through another cycle. Soon they arrived at the federal building where, no doubt, the greatest minds of the military were gathered to plan a drop of high explosives on helpless civilians. They got there and sat down on the steps, waving at cars. A little bit later, they had a play of some kind. According to this theatrical masterpiece, this war has nothing to do with terrorism, just planes dropping something on a person in a black mask and getting shot with a didgeridoo while a man dressed as a pig rolls around. This is one of those things I’m not “enlightened” enough to understand, huh? After their play, they just sat around giving handbills to each other for hours on end.
Think this was fun? It looks like they plan to do it every Friday. I went the next week to find the same lifeless blobs as a week ago, holding the same signs. The say they will continue until they finally bring the war to an end (which, coincidently will be roughly around the same time Afghanistan is little more than a smoldering crater). And I am sure the rest of the University, if not the country, will take them just as seriously as I have.
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