For What It's Worth

Way back in the day, in 1968, wedged between the Summer of Love and Woodstock, there was the summer of protests. In Chicago, the anti-war, anti-establishment, anti-everything except sex, drugs and rock and roll Hippies had their heyday protesting at the Democratic National Convention. There were riots, fights, arrests, (mostly for procession), and bra-burnings. It was profound.

.

Now pushing 60, the “me” generation radicals are anxious to relive their glory days by protesting against the Iraq War at the Democratic National Convention in Denver.

One of the many protest groups promising to rain on Barry’s parade is actually called Re-Create ‘68.

Ironically, they will essentially be protesting Barack Obama’s coronation which ostensibly represents a generational power shift from the Baby Boomer’s whining to the exasperated (from listening to the boomer’s whining) tweeners and Gen X’ers. Obama managed to eek out a victory over Baby Boomer Hillary Clinton by riding a wave of support from exasperated young people who were probably sick and tired of hearing their parents tell them about how they changed the world by growing their hair, wearing bell bottoms, “experimenting” with drugs, self absorption and whining.

The perpetually disenchanted, acid popping boomers eventually whined their way into positions of power, finding a home in McGovern’s democratic party and taking it over. There, as Prozac popping politicians they continued their crusade against their parent’s America, their cumbaya-ing, self congratulatory pats in the back, and perpetual whining without ever offering any concrete practical solutions to the problems that they themselves created when they demanded change.

Now that another generation is the change we’ve been waiting for, the die hard 60’s radicals are fighting to maintain the status quo and are boarding their time machines, Volkswagen Microbuses, and heading to Denver to whine about … Viet Nam Iraq. But…you better stop, hey what’s that sound?

There's something happening here
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware
I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
There's battle lines being drawn
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind
I think it's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side
It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
You step out of line,
the man come and take you away
Stop, now, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
Stop, children, what's that sound Everybody look what's going down

It’s the sound of a jail cell. This ain’t your daddy’s ’68 or his ‘68 DNC convention. So, for What It’s Worth, activist groups are complaining that the "heat" in the city of Denver has built a “secret jail” – like camp x-ray in Guantanamo which they are calling "Gitmo on the Platte". More like a time out room, really, for infantile radical wannabes.

El Combinado De Denver

Protesting in the US is easy. So easy, in fact, that even the clueless can do it successfully. The radical's concern:

Protest groups questioned whether the makeshift facility would be suitable for inhabitation after years as a storage facility.

Now I'm beginning to understand why these so called radicals wail about "gitmo" but remain silent about the greater jail that is the rest of the island of Cuba. They only want to conduct safe, comfortable and convenient protest where "the man" can guarantee air conditioning, private bathrooms and cable. These guys couldn't hold a candle to Antunez or Darsi Ferrer.