Sketches From An Occupation

Note: Originally written November 2011

Unbeknownst to almost none of you, I’ve been partaking in a Grand Tour of sorts within the Occupy movement. I have counter-protested the group during its (hopeful) height several weeks ago, walked in its marches as a faux sympathizer, and most recently attended the Michael Moore rally. Below are some sketches:

340 PM: If the Occupy movement organized its rallies like its Thunderdome/general camping area, it would be even more disorganized. Rotted vegetables, mingled with the moderating smell of baked beans, hummus, cheese, and donated food items from local businesses permeate the area.

342 PM: There is no permanent police presence to speak of.

347 PM: Woof.

350 PM: An Occupier begins yelling obscenities and thrashing about in the crowd. “Where the f—king f—k is my sweater? Who the f—k took my sweater, it has all my s—t in it! My smokes, my piece, my lighter… I will smash the f—k up anyone I see with it.” Isn’t the notion of private property a foundation of an economic system…like capitalism, perhaps? Irony fail.

353 PM: Brunette Occupier comments on my nearly-finished cigar in my teeth. “Isn’t that kind of fat cat bankster?” I explained how cigars are one of the most organic products in the world. I think she got a new perspective on the issue.

357 PM: Protestor sign: “He once owned dozens [slaves]. Now he owns millions of us.” Why the hell does that banker look like a 1940s propaganda cartoon of a Japanese person?

358 PM: There are dozens of educators here.

403 PM: Moore hasn’t shown up yet. Talked to several protesters about the clashes with cops on Saturday, gaining a few compliments from my USSR jacket.

406 PM: Human microphone. Aged man with a regrettable necktie starts talking about how bankers and investment types steal billions. The crowd is with him all the way. He ends by saying, “And that’s why we need a death penalty for white collar crime.” The echoes shrink considerably, nervous chuckles replacing their enthusiasm. God, I love Leftists.

408 PM: Patagonia count = 13 and growing.

409 PM: Several Occupiers are crowing over the general strike in Oakland. Doesn’t forcibly closing a major port to commerce adversely affect the 99% as much as it does the 1%?

411 PM: No sign of Moore. An “Occupy Denver” bus rolls by every 4 minutes or so, dragging a trailer with odd caricatures. On the tops of pikes are the heads of Bush, Cheney, and what I assume is a token Je-, I mean, neocon. Main structure has a guillotine. Headline says “Bushwhacker: The People’s Court is the Last Resort.” Bus garners cheers at each interval.

413 PM: Roll-your-own cigarette offered by twenty-something protestor as we chatted about the future of Occupy. Probably an Am Spirit blend, quite nice for an RYO.

416 PM: Talked about Bolivaran socialism, Chiapas, and the Red Army Faction with a group of about ten anarchist/leftist types. Maybe they’ll gain some inspiration.

417 PM: Explained my new family history, that my grandpa fought with the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, my uncle with the Sandinistas, and my mother at Seattle WTO. They hadn’t heard of any of these things. Sigh.

420 PM: Yep.

421 PM: One guy starts explaining to his friends the (in)famous ‘Crossfire’ exchange with Jon Stewart, ending with, “And that’s when I realized the political genius that is Jon Stewart.”

422 PM: Spoke with a (yes) Communist. Talked about his trips to Moscow and Cuba in the early 1980s, as well as his thoughts on Obama. The feeling of betrayal that so much of the Left feels towards the POTUS is quite saddening. I’ve compared it to a battered woman who sticks by her man, thinking that if she only loves him more, he won’t keep (politically) beating her.

423 PM: That Communist had one sick road bike.

426 PM: One of the leaders of food service at Thunderdome walks through the crowd to hand a sandwich to a man with a veterans’ cap on. Veteran gets offended that he would warrant preferential treatment.

430 PM: A human microphone is forming. Some of the freeverse poetry, seemingly drug-induced, is really quite poetic and touching.

431 PM: Why is it that leftists don’t have a problem heavily swearing around children?

432 PM: Anarchists start chanting about destroying the system. In other news…

433 PM: Where the hell is Michael Moore? #Occupy Country Buffet.

440 PM: Woman with a younger child turns back to face me and says, “You look SO familiar.” After we exchanged introductions, she stated again, “Jesus, you look so dang familiar. But I guess that’s because we’re all Americans, right?”  One of the brighter moments.

446 PM: Cute twenty-something is handing out pamphlets on how to help lessen confrontations with the police. Actions include a human microphone of “Shhh…” when tensions arise.

449 PM: Moore still isn’t here.

454 PM: Crowd starts to move back for Moore’s arrival.  I bump into a man in fatigues with a keffiyeh, complete with outline of Palestine as both Israel and the Territories. Ouch.

502 PM: Moore enters the crowd. The circle formed around him sat down, and the few who stood up in the front were promptly chastised via bullhorn.

503 PM: Several hecklers begin hammering Moore over his net worth ($50 mil), deriding him as part of the 1%.

504 PM: -shouted- “Michael Moore is a capitalist!”

506 PM: Moore rambles on. My section of protesters is very laudatory.

509 PM: Moore compares the Occupy movement to the civil rights movement, complete with references to police dogs and general brutality.

515 PM: Speech becomes more and more predictable. Crowd dissipates after his speech.