pm

So I was invited to go out and protest the rumored upcoming war in Iraq. I'm not all that in favour of war (frankly the best suggestion I've heard thusfar was from an Iraqi deputy who suggested that Bush and Hussein duke it out in a ring, that'd be enteraining) but I declined, couldn't help thinking about the last protest I attended where we ended up occupying a bank.
Now I'm a big chicken shit, first to admit it. So I didn't actually plan on occupying anything, I just found myself being pushed that way with a bunch of folks and all of a sudden there were police everywhere. Oh, this is interesting, I thought.
The police had the upper hand from the start, they had the washrooms. As our bladders began to give out and the paultry number of potted plants that we had managed to wrestle away from bank staff began to dwindle, or rather, absorb all that they could absorb, I began to realize that the selfish self interest that angered me so in the bank against was in fact mirrored by those protesters who egged their fellows on in an orgy of bladder busting endurance. What did we acheive, other than a feeling that we had "done" something?
Or maybe I'm too cynical. But as far as I've been able to determine, the bank execs never lost any sleep over our protest, only the police and the custodians who had to clean up the fantastic mess.
Oh, and the poor gardener. Really feel sorry for the gardener.