It is Memorial Day weekend and Rolling Thunder is back in town. I should have saved my tourist complaining for this bunch.
You’re a DC resident and as a such you live knowing you’re in the Non-Autonomous Protectorate of the Land of the Free. You know this is where people come to make statements of national importance. If the World’s Bad People–terrorists, elected officials–are going to do something awful, you expect some of it to happen here.
But wait, what’s that sound? Is it Satan farting? No, what you can’t stand is the scruffy mobs of very loud motorcyclists invading once a year. You don’t expect to be in your own apartment and have you’re bones rattled by a passing Harley. This is D.C., not Sturgis. Go away.
Don’t tell me they have some glorious mission to keep MIA/POWs in the public consciousness. It doesn’t take a rocket scientists to see that the Rolling Thunder crowd like their roadhog jamboree and know that when you wrap a cause in the flag, it’s hard to criticize. (If I had a car, I’d get this bumper sticker.) Well, I’m criticizing it–and not forgetting the President’s Mother of All Failures and the Congressional Democrats recent lack of political will. Perhaps that’s just the sound of Satan laughing.
Here’s the lesson: Right or left, the general public will remember how you delivered you message more than the message itself. Don’t be a jerk. Leave the giant puppets and tired, tired slogans at home. Bathe first. And if you’re going to make some noise, make sure it has some meaning.