Political rallies, no matter the cause or the politics, are always the same. Aside from a few superficial points of contention there’s little to separate, say, an ACORN demonstration from the Tax Day Tea Party held early Wednesday morning; both events are sure to be filled with signs and jeering and fervent anti-American hatred. Although the absence of patchouli, hacky-sacks, and bongs was dutifully noted, today’s demonstration was replete with its own set of strange totems that you’d think only a drugged out, anti-war college demonstrator would wear
Like tea bags hanging from an old lady’s spectacles:
Unfortunately, yr. humble correspondent has “issues” with the vast majority of consumer electronics manufactured after 2004, and as such a wonderful encounter with Dr. Frank Simon of Kentucky’s American Family Association didn’t make it onto YouTube…
I was primed for any number of virulent remarks from the crowd — Overheard was the tail-end of a discussion wherein the maxim “Can’t have no gays in the schools, man. I don’t want them corrupting my kids.” [sic] was espoused — Yet by and large the crowd was resigned to bashing the Government, not the Gays.
Some time around noon, and the heavens opened up and handed me a precious and special gift: After signing up for the Campaign For Liberty listserv, the man next to me (who was already a member of the AFA and therefore was already on the Campaign For Liberty listserv) asked if Dr. Simon was around today.
“Yes,” said the kindly middle-aged woman behind the Campaign for Liberty fold-out table. “He’s right over there.”
I snapped my head round, searching, but I didn’t see him. I waited until the man left and asked the kindly woman if she could please point out the Good Doctor to me.
“Yes,” she said, pointing.
Again, couldn’t see him. Too many people, too many brightly colored signs. I became depressed, and contemplated stapling bags of tea to my jacket in the hopes that someone would dump me over the 2nd Street Bridge — that is, until I heard someone calling his name (“Doctor Simon!”) and I finally spotted him: A short, thin man with a gentle countenance, which I later deduced was due merely to advanced age. He was handing out stickers that had tiny black tea kettles printed on them.
“Excuse me,” I asked him. “Can I have another sticker?”
“Here you go,” he said and handed one to me. I affixed it next to the other one on my jacket.
“Hey,” I said, “have you heard anything about there being an alternative meaning to the words tea bag?”
He stared at me blankly, then shook his head.
“Well, the reason I ask is because there’s a lot of liberal types out there who are suggesting its some grand euphemism for something else. Do know what I’m talking about?”
“I don’t know anything about that,” said the doctor, his face exuding gentleness from every pore.
“Really? Not even—”
“No,” he said, and we left it at that.