I have uploaded the video I made of this event. If I did it right, you should be able to view it in the window above. If not, you can view it HERE. It's twenty minutes long. Here's a written recap of the events...
I got word (from an anonymous source) a week ago that Code Pink was going to have another Moonbat parade in DC on Flag Day (June 14th for those of you in Rio Linda), to celebrate the 2500th US military death in Iraq. It didn't matter to Gael Murphy when she announced the parade that the death toll might not be at 2500; she must have been really bummed by Zarqawi's untimely demise on June 7th (HOOAH! and AirPower!) and needed to do something to lift her out of the funk she was in. And a blood dance was just the ticket, apparently.
I contacted a few DC Chapter members off-forum to let them know I was probably going to be there with my cameras to capture the essence of the Moonbat Movement. Freepers who couldn't be there warned me not to go alone because of Gael Murphy, Allison Yorra and Medea Benjamin's past history of physically assaulting me. I did consider the risks, but figured I'd probably be OK because the area in front of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is swarming with LEOs from multiple agencies; and the Three Code PinkO Stooges are already in enough hot water with those agencies to risk another arrest with any of them.
As luck would have it, my Freeper Friends didn't have to worry about me, as BillF went with me as my bodyguard. Thank you, BillF.
Code Pink's plan was for their marchers to meet up at the Washington Hilton at 2:30pm; there they hoped to catch unsuspecting (gullible) DemoRats leaving the "Take Back America" conference's final speech given by Barack Obama ('Rat-IL), and convince them to join in their downhill march to the White House.
Washington, DC has a population of nearly six hundred thousand people, with probably ninety percent or greater identifying with the 'Rat party. And the "Take Back America" conference probably had a few hundred of the hardest-core lefties in the country in attendance.
But as it turned out, all Code PinkO could muster for their blood march was 80 people (I took a head count as I played back my video from the day), give or take a half-dozen. But I'm jumping ahead...
BillF and I arrived at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue at a little before 4pm, and we strategerized for a few minutes before checking in with a couple of local LEOs. At around 4pm, we heard the distant sound of drywall mud buckets being pounded on, and we knew Code PinkOs were near...
BillF and I spent our time walking amongst the Code Pink revelers, taking in the ambience, listening to their muttering and photographing the attendees and speakers.
Code Pink had managed to get 16 cardboard coffins (draped with American flags), a couple of leftover Vietnam era vets/protesters and Ray McGovern as their keynote speaker. This was going to be a tough 75 minutes for us in our role as independent media .
I shot video and BillF took still shots. It really was a pretty trashy spectacle, with Ray McGovern talking about how four years and some-odd-months-ago we (the USA) went to war because we wanted oil. No, I didn't mis-type the number. McGovern apparently believes we went to war in Afghanistan for oil and not because Osama bin Laden's Islamist followers attacked America on September 11, 2001. McGovern tried his hand at philosophy, quoting Kipling and fake-praying for the Gitmo suicides, the Iraqis who have been killed (how many by Code PinkO funded insurgents?), and our soldiers (again, how many by Code PinkO funded insurgents?). The only people who listened to him were those participating in the demonstration. Tourists and people walking past on their way home from work didn't pay them much attention at all.
After McGovern gave up the microphone, Local PinkO Ann Wilcox made a few hypocritical comments and then introduced a member of Veterans for Peace, Mike Harrington. Mike mentioned that he was a Vietnam era veteran who wasn't a combat vet; but he neglected to tell the audience that he was a co-founder of SDS and Democratic Socialists of America (info credit: www.wintersoldier.com). Go figure.
The next speaker up was a guy named Bruce, who never gave us his last name. Bruce was trying to get folks to join him in a road trip to Buffalo, NY where he planned to cross the "Peace Bridge" into Canada, and offer aid and solidarity to the "war resisters" who have fled the USA to avoid military service. I am not joking!
Apparently the US government has instituted a secret draft and are rounding up young men to force them into the military, I guess to fight this mythical "War For Oil." In their socialism-addled minds, anyway.
After Bruce finished rapping with the dwindling crowd, it was time for Code PinkO spokesbabes to take the mike. Gael Murphy was off somewhere (probably hiding in the shrubbery, embarrassed by the small turnout) and Allison Yorra was off schmoozing the still photogs from Getty Images, Reuters and other dinosaur media, so Ann Wilcox had to give the mike to Sammie Joi. Sammie is a sad sight, actually. She looks to be a former flower child who never quite grew up to find a contributory place in modern society. Then Allison Yorra made her pitch for the very "dangerous" and risky action that Code Pink is pushing this month. They are going to have a "fast" for peace, and are kicking off this media stunt on July 3rd, in Lafayette Park.
After the speechifying was over, folks milled about for a while, and then they staged a die-in of sorts. Sixteen people lay down alongside the cardboard coffins they had lined up along Pennsylvania Avenue, much to the delight of the MSM photogs whose cameras whirred away. Allison Yorra lay on the street, with her left hand clawing the cardboard coffin beside her. Weird.
In addition to the die-in, a man stood on a step stool wearing a skull mask and holding an upside-down paper flag and a small sign. He didn't really explain his street theater, so I was left to imagine that he was depicting the last earthly remains of his hero Zarqawi, as Zarqawi wondered how many Iraqi children he killed today.
Maybe a hundred feet away stood three people wearing ill-fitting orange jumpsuits. The suits weren't too big, they were very snug. One gal wearing a jumpsuit couldn't even button the thing. Maybe she ought to try the Gitmo diet plan. The Gitmo folks were kind of sad looking. At first they were kneeling, but the pavement apparently hurt their knees, so they stood up. One of the guys left early because his knees hurt from kneeling. Interesting.
All the while that this was going on, individual tourists and large tourist groups walked past them on their way to the White House fence, where they took photos, had photos taken and made small talk. Most people didn't even look in the direction of the demonstration.
An angry "preacher" spoke for ten or so minutes, not saying anything much different or more inspiring than the other speakers that preceded him; but he said it loudly and with an angry edge. One tourist yelled at him to shut up. The "preacher" told a crowd of school kids who were watching the spectacle, that they were witnessing a courageous act... What a jerk. Courage is our young men and women standing in harm's way in foreign countries, protecting his right to be a jerk in front of the White House.
After the folks had been laying on the street for about twenty minutes, their choreographer (a post-menopausal white male) walked down the line of sixteen die-inners, and instructed them to put their "Right hand up. Peace sign. Right hand up, peace sign..." On cue, the three MSM photogs rushed to one end of the coffin line to take their photos. Amazing to watch. Almost as well choreographed as the Ice Capades.
When the choreographer called it a wrap, he asked the demonstrators to help take apart the cardboard props, being sure not to let the flags touch the ground. They have become more media savvy than they were during Vietnam.
As Allison Yorra let go of the coffin prop and stood up, the three MSM photogs crowded around her. "Chip" from Getty images asked her a few questions. I had to stifle a laugh when he asked her if she had a kid in the military. She looked that old to him.
As the cardboard coffin props were dismantled, the flags were haphazardly folded and dropped into a pile on a flattened coffin laying on the ground. Allison Yorra walked up to the pile of flags and began stirring through them. I don't know what she was doing, but when she was done, the flags looked like a pile of rags. Great work, Allison.
Gael Murphy passed by me as she was folding up a banner, and she asked me if I had gotten into any more trouble. The only trouble I ever seem to have is when she and Medea and Allison physically assault me as I film their protests and tell them that they're flops. Code Pink has made a name for themselves by disrupting conferences, speeches, conventions, hearings and meetings; but when one woman with a home video camera yells at them and calls them failures, they resort to hitting, shoving, and encouraging their less stable followers to stalk me. Women for peace, my arse!
As the dozen Code Pink bitter-enders gathered their props to leave, there was a small commotion on the sidewalk in front of the White House. A guy whose tinfoil underwear was apparently chafing him marched along the sidewalk ranting about there being no such thing as nuclear weapons, our soldiers were dying for something that didn't exist, and he ended it with a full-throated roar of, "Revolution NOW!"
Another Moonbat flashback ended as expected.
They all went home emptyhanded.
No revolution today.
And George W. Bush is still president.
God Bless our brave men and women in the military who preserve these idiots' right to be idiots.
