[mburbank]

I can't be bothered to go all the way to New York to protest. I do my protesting on the front page of the Hartford Courant sunday edition, and then only if one of their reporters stops me on my way home from work when I happen to have an hour to kill. And even then my protesting takes the form of bitching about how the convention is incoveniencing me.

POWER TO THE PEOPLE, BABY!! YOU CAN'T CHAINLINK FENCE THAT SHIT IN!

See, my problem with protesting is
A.) I hate crowds.
B.) The smell of patchuli oil makes me want to barf.
C.) I am terrified of oversized puppets.
D.) The only thing I hate anywhere near as much as a huge gang of zealous right wingers is a huge gang of zealous left wingers.

I've been two about a half dozen big protests over the last few years, and they were all pretty much like the time I went to hear William Shatner speak, except William Shatner didn't speak at any of the protests I went to, and I didn't feel as bad about myself the next day.