I’ve been so impressed by all the photos coming out of Iran. All
those people upset about the recent election fraud, yelling, throwing
stones, running right into the breach of whatever the authorities throw
at them. I can’t imagine Americans doing that.
Yeah, some brave souls congregate on the White House lawn when
something really twists their knickers. Sometimes we even hold
candlelight vigils, but as recently as 2000, when George W. Bush stole
the presidential election, we didn’t do much but tuck our tails between
our legs and hit the Prozac.
See, we are a nation of laws and pills. But not stones.
Not that I’m advocating stones. However, while driving down Speedway
Boulevard, and seeing what used to be a perfectly nice restaurant
between Wilmot and Craycroft roads now taken over by a concern
advertising off-track betting, I did get a twinge, recognized
forthwith, as the urge to throw stones.
Off-track betting joints used to congregate in South Tucson or near
the freeway, but the fact that they’re creeping eastward represents an
oozing of sleaze through the Old Pueblo. If this doesn’t bring this
recession home, then nothing will.
Off-track betting means the people in the bar can place bets while
watching the action at the local greyhound (or horse) track in
air-conditioned comfort while hollering and rooting for their
favorites. Their favorites, meanwhile, frequently break hocks or toes,
and can die of exertion or overheating while sitting in cages stacked
in warehouses euphemistically called “kennels,” suffering from heat,
confinement and despair.
But, no, this kind of thing does not get Americans, let alone
Tucsonans, roiled up.
However, I did find it interesting that on the very next block, I
saw a woman holding a sign that read, “Repent. Turn to Jesus.” This
seemed so very quaint—not the sign necessarily, but the word
“repent.”
Most people probably don’t know what the word “repent” means
anymore. It’s anachronistic and old-fashioned. She would have done
better with a sign that said, “Quit being such an asshole. Turn to
Jesus.”
Not that turning to Jesus excludes being an asshole. I’ve met plenty
of assholes who’ve turned to Jesus, but you get my point.
The off-track betting bar and the woman with the sign got me all
nostalgic for a time I never knew—the real Depression, the one
following the stock market crash of 1929. In those days, people wanting
other people to repent wore sandwich-board signs, items involving two
slabs of plywood and straps. These signs served the dual purpose of
advertising either repentance or whatever the ’30s equivalent of
off-track betting was, and covering body parts best left unexposed.
This was a good thing. In those days, lots of people couldn’t afford
clothes.
Ah, that “other depression.” That was some serious depressioning. My
grandfather, a dentist, used to tell tales of accepting garden produce
and live chickens in payment for yanking a rotten molar or filling a
cavity. Eventually, he had to close his practice. The landlord wanted
real money, and Gramps didn’t have any of that.
I think one of the reasons Americans don’t take to the streets like
the Iranians is that they’re too out of shape. Taking to the streets
takes a lot of exertion, and if you’re carrying 40 or 50 extra pounds,
you’re just not going to have the energy for it. Even if you’re not
overweight, but your muscles are all flaccid from sitting in front of
computer terminals or watching endless reruns of NCIS and
House on television, they’re going to balk at heading to the
streets to throw rocks. Sometimes, discretion really is the better part
of, if not valor, sound thinking—and if you get out there and
chuck a couple of rocks at anyone, like political figures or riot
police, you might finally send that sore shoulder over the edge and
have to get that rotator-cuff surgery you’ve been putting off since the
year 2000, when you injured it initially hefting all those beers at the
local bar, drowning your sorrows over the election results. And since
you don’t have health insurance, that’ll put you farther up shit creek
than you already are.
No, I don’t see Americans taking to the streets anytime soon. Jesus
Obama is going to fix everything. After all, that is why we elected
him, isn’t it?
This article appears in Jun 25 – Jul 1, 2009.
We’ve been brainwashed into believing all authority is legitimate and that “protesting” via throwing rocks is a primitive and uncivilized form of expression. Our “leaders” have slowly morphed our form of government into a fascist state – the foundation of our society is a Power Hungry Homeowner Association Board and the legislators who ignore this fact. These “leaders” need to experience a blow of reality from stone-wielding Americans – we’ve had enough of the sickness that’s taken neighbor out of neighborhood under the claim that “we agreed to this when we bought a house”. We must face these Fascists and denounce their wickedness – and they will not change until they come under the immediate threat of being pummeled with stones. They don’t have anything to fear as long as we just throw lawsuits at them – the lawyers actually love that because these same lawyers wrote those laws in such a way that homeowners cannot win! WAKE UP ALREADY! Put down the prozac (or that reefer that you thought would be “legal” by now under Obama) and spend an hour a day writing hate mail to your failed leaders. Bring neighbor back into our neighborhoods and stop them from continuing the bully-mentality of a police state. The cradle of liberty is our neighborhoods, but this drug induced apathy is what these tyrants rely on to stay in power. We need to throw more salvos of sincere disdain using our first amendment rights, else the second amendment will become the most used right only after we’ve deteriorated into a seething pool of uncivilized rebellion…and then we’ll discover the right to throw rocks when there’s nothing left of our constitution but a desire to be free.