23 March 2003 Protests Yesterday I figured out what was wrong about my opinions on the war. I'm missing out on all the fun since I don't get to go on all these groovy anti-war protests. Dammit, I watched 'Born On The Fourth Of July' and 'The Deerhunter', yet now I'm missing out on all the hippie love that everyone else is enjoying. I mean I've been to quite a few protest rallys in my time but they were all related to boring old Northern Ireland politics. Shit, it's been years since I was part of a crowd running from the plastic bullets being fired at us - I need to see some action. So this morning I decided to have my very own anti-anti-war-protestors-protest out in my front yard. You'd have loved my placard. It read 'Keep those bombs dropping Dubyah!' on one side and 'Tony, I love you' on the other. I shouted out such rousing chants as 'Baghdad or Bust' and 'Saddam's not da man'. For extra ambience we dressed Gypsy the cat up in riot squad gear and got her to keep a beady eye on me the entire time. Dave helped out as well. One of the highlights was when he unveiled a papier mache McDonald's so I could pelt it with eggs thereby demonstrating that no capitalist hamburger chain was going to stand in the way of our right to bomb the hell out of the Middle East. I mean it isn't a demo unless someone attacks McDonalds. Then I set fire to a toy truck and cheered as it burned, secure in the knowledge that my act of wanton destruction was helping show my solidarity with the Iraqi people; at least the ones who don't like Saddam. There was one slight hitch in the proceedings. I wanted to burn an Iraqi flag but I've no idea of what one looks like. Still, most of the peace protestors wouldn't know either so I set fire to a picture of Jaques Chirac and a bag of french fried onions instead. However, my attempts at commuter disruption was a resounding success. I managed to stop the cows moving to the bottom part of the field for fifteen minutes, causing widespread chaos to the herd. After I ate my packed lunch, Dave decided it was time to call it a day and turned the garden hose on me so I called him a beatnik, peace-loving, hippie who should get a damned haircut, and went in for a change of clothes. It was so much fun I think I'll do it again next week.
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