Occupy DC Takes it in the Ass Again?
By Jehovah Jones
Thursday’s protest was different: This one was specifically about the police, who raided McPherson Square again, almost two months after the first betrayal, and tore down the information booth and meeting tent, where they seemed to think people were sleeping. (Truth be told, some probably were. It’s more comfortable to sleep on the ground in a tent than on the hard sidewalk a few feet away, which is by some moronic twist of logic, allowed.)
And the Occupiers took to the streets with vengeance in their hearts…or maybe more accurately, in their mouths.
Chanting couplets ranging from pointed but civil —
“From Oakland to Greece, disarm the police.”
— to some apparently designed to insult and enrage:
“This is a donut. It is delicious. You know you want to fuckin’ eat it.”
— while bearing makeshift fishing poles dangling chocolate donuts as bait, they headed out from the park that had been their home from Oct 1 to Feb 4, and took a circuitous route through the city, stopping to block every large intersection.
At each, the sign-wielding pack of about 40-45 people took three loops around, chanting, waving signs, propelled by anger and Mo the Palestinian’s pounding drum, disrupting traffic for as long as possible. When the DC cops, half a dozen motorcycles, 3-4 cars, several SUVs and at least two horses, didn’t charge in and arrest them, but rather blocked traffic for them, the marchers kicked it up a notch, reviving a chant from the Occupy Congress event in January —
“No justice, no peace, No bitch-ass police.”
as well as one coined at the Monsanto protest on February 29 —
“Show me what a donut looks like. This is what a donut looks like.”
and added a brand-new personal jab for good measure —
“You say people shouldn’t sleep. We say ‘Fuck Sgt. Reid.’ ”
— apparently in response to comments made to the media by Todd Reid of the Park Police, the cop who was in charge during the day’s tent detail at McPherson, and who was Tanked in the ‘nads way back in the good old sleep-over days.
The two cops on horseback seemed to be having fun, at least at first, teasing a protestor on a bike videotaping the march about his parents’ income. “What are you doing out here? Your mom and dad are millionaires! Hey, did you know this guy’s parents are millionaires? That means he’s one of the One Percent!” the cops taunted.
But it all seemed to be in good fun until an irate motorist at one of the intersections began blowing his horn at the marchers blocking his turn. The protestors seemed ready to let him pass until he stuck his head out the window and screamed obscenities at them, threatening to “flatten your fucking slacker asses,” and then they sat placidly in the road, daring him to follow through. One protestor danced around, inches from the car’s grill, whirling and chanting.
That was too much for the Lone Ranger and Robin, mounted high upon the Clydesdale-esque Steeds of Power. They trotted up and began bellowing orders, insisting that the kids had touched the man’s car, threatening all manner of sanctions. “Harassing citizens! Way to go!” Robin snarled, or the closest approximation thereof, which came out as more of a simper.
“No one touched the car, sir,” the guy on the bike affirmed. “I have the video right here.”
Others were less conciliatory. “If you think we did something wrong, fuckin’ arrest us, porkchop.”
A woman took up a new chant — “Get those animals off those horses.” — and it made a few rounds before being discarded in favor of the old NWA standby: “Fuck tha police.”
One guy paraded through the intersection and up to the horses with his sign: “Go fuck yourself, officer.”
But Andy and Barney weren’t biting, so the protestors turned their attention to the passerby.
“Give us our rights, we’ll give you your streets.”
“Join us. It’s your first amendment too.”
One sign took a backhanded stab at reassurance: “Don’t worry, everything’s fine. Go home and watch American Idol.”
While some people in the cars seemed angry, just as many honked in support, shooting the thumbs up, and shouting encouragement. “Keep it up! You’re doing great!” a cabbie yelled, and a middle-aged woman rolled down the window to get the specifics of the Occupiers’s grievance against the cops. “They took everything I own! “ one man told her. “I was doing what they said, to be in compliance with the law, and they ripped down my tent anyway and stole it all. That shit don’t fly.” The woman grimaced and suggested a lawsuit. “Yep, I’m gonna sue their balls off,” he said.
A young woman in a car honked her horn, long, loud, and waved energetically. “You people are very brave. You’re the hope of the future!” she yelled. At Dupont Circle, a 30ish black couple sat in their German touring car, adrift in stalled traffic, cops, and protestors, smiling hugely, windows open exchanging handshakes and pleasantries with the protestors. A man with a strong accent talked excitedly on his cell. “It’s Occupy DC! I saw them on TV. They marching, baby! This is so fuckin’ cool. You guys rock!”
Finally after 90 minutes, the throng headed back to McPherson with no arrests. A final three-pronged swing through the intersections by the park finally won them a warning from the cops, and newly energized, some took off again for more. But a significant number dropped off at McPherson, some chatting with the lone arrestee from the morning’s raid, a women called Georgia wearing a cast, with a tiny dog on a leash.
The dog, apparently affected by the vibrations in the air, mounted another dog and got busy.
“Stop that, Daisy” the woman scolded. “That’s not how it works.”
“She’s a girl,” she explained.
But Daisy wasn’t letting the lack of a penis stand in her way, continuing to hump madly.
The other dog seemed confused as to what was being accomplished.
But serving notice that you won’t be bullied by a growing police state is something, no matter if it can sometimes seem like just faux-screwing the pooch.
Originally posted on CoolRevolution.net, March 31, 2012