Infiltrator
There was a tax-day Tea-Party rally at Westlake Center last night, concurrent with the bike gang meet-up; I talked to three attendees.
First, was a guy in a suit holding a sign that said something like “Fifty State Health Care Market” whose faith in the free-market system led him to conclude that even services like medical care are best provided by some idealized notion of capitalism (which wouldn’t be possible with the solution he was advocating).
Next, I approached a fellow on stilts wearing a plastic red, white, and blue Uncle Sam costume that I can’t imagine didn’t come from China whose stated message (to me, anyway) was “I love America.”
Best, though, were these three kids, a boy about 10 and his two little sisters, 7 and 9 or so, who were holding a picture of Obama and big sign reading “Infiltrator.” It was cute how the big brother couldn’t really pronounce the word and his siblings didn’t know what it meant. I tried to get a picture of him pointing his own sign at me, with an arrow and the words “Agent Provacateur” on it, but I got distracted when their dad asked me if I was “for God” or not, before answering his own question with the observation, “Well, if you’re from Seattle, I guess not.”
I came away thinking that the Teabaggers are all just lonely people looking desperately for something to belong to and that made me love the Bikebaggers all that much more: we didn’t have to feel helpless and angry; instead, we rode bikes, played kickball and drank beer, and then, under a long twilight sky with Venus glowing brightly alongside a brand-new sliver of moon, pedaled through forest paths so close to elephants you could inhale their warm earthy scent, until we arrived at a patio with fire, that had pretty much all anyone needed, except those government-provided services anyone who pays taxes should be happy to pay for.
First, was a guy in a suit holding a sign that said something like “Fifty State Health Care Market” whose faith in the free-market system led him to conclude that even services like medical care are best provided by some idealized notion of capitalism (which wouldn’t be possible with the solution he was advocating).
Next, I approached a fellow on stilts wearing a plastic red, white, and blue Uncle Sam costume that I can’t imagine didn’t come from China whose stated message (to me, anyway) was “I love America.”
Best, though, were these three kids, a boy about 10 and his two little sisters, 7 and 9 or so, who were holding a picture of Obama and big sign reading “Infiltrator.” It was cute how the big brother couldn’t really pronounce the word and his siblings didn’t know what it meant. I tried to get a picture of him pointing his own sign at me, with an arrow and the words “Agent Provacateur” on it, but I got distracted when their dad asked me if I was “for God” or not, before answering his own question with the observation, “Well, if you’re from Seattle, I guess not.”
I came away thinking that the Teabaggers are all just lonely people looking desperately for something to belong to and that made me love the Bikebaggers all that much more: we didn’t have to feel helpless and angry; instead, we rode bikes, played kickball and drank beer, and then, under a long twilight sky with Venus glowing brightly alongside a brand-new sliver of moon, pedaled through forest paths so close to elephants you could inhale their warm earthy scent, until we arrived at a patio with fire, that had pretty much all anyone needed, except those government-provided services anyone who pays taxes should be happy to pay for.
posted by Professor Dave at 9:06 AM
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