At least two
separate drivers flipped off the anti-choice crowd (without even
attempting to show me their support), and at least four rolled down
their windows to tell me how much they appreciated my efforts.
Nonstop they came, the thumbs up, the shouts and the honks supporting
my damp pacings. The signs I carried today: ANTI-CHOICE =
ANTI-LIBERTY | NO ROSARIES IN MY OVARIES | I HEART PLANNED PARENTHOOD
| NOT YOUR BODY? NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. One old man rolled down his
window to call me an asshole after I had switched to the No Rosaries
sign, which also garnered constant attention from the two anti-choice
protesters hardy enough to stand out in the freezing slush.
As soon as I
started singing a nonsense song about ovaries and vaginas and keeping
your business out of them, the lone remaining pro-lifer all but ran
to his car, and fled. When I reached my own car, I had to shake an
inch and a half of snow off of my cowboy hat, and my poncho (upon
which are portrayed dueling cocks) was soaked nearly through.
The estate was a
mess, branches sagging over the road under the heavy snow, some
having fallen already to block the narrow country lane that runs past
the house. I dragged them out of the way, trimmed the low-hanging
branches, and high-tailed it back to the neighbor's house, where they
had the heat cranked up high enough to dry my soaking clothes. Not
long after I arrived, the family's teenage son (with whom I play mad
video games) left the house unexpectedly. He returned after a short
interval, shook the snow off his clothes, and recounted excitedly
what had just happened.
Apparently, the
organizer of the anti-choice demonstration (who lives a few doors
down from him) had approached him to ask if I was in fact the
individual out on the square counter-protesting. He said she
complained about the offensive nature of my signs, about a sign that
supposedly read, KEEP YOUR PRAYER HANDS OUT OF MY VAGINA (thanks for
the great new slogan!), and that she grilled him about everything
from my motives to my motivation. He claims to have stonewalled her
thoroughly; similar the claims of his father, who was also approached
by this woman, and who claims to have denied knowing anything about
anybody.
I have one piece of
advice for the anti-choice crowd: next time, before you call the cops
because you are offended by the public mention of a medical term
(vagina), consider that your attempts at intimidation might cause the
person on whom you snitched to resort to more colorful and creative
terminology, words that you might decide offend you more. If the
pro-lifers had just let me hold my vagina sign, I would have probably
left it at that; since they ratted me out, I have made a new sign
every day, with new and daring slogans that challenge the people of
this small town to question why this struggle is playing out on their
sad little square.
I have the local
ACLU chapter on speed-dial, primed and ready to go. The smell of
escalation is in the air, and it reeks of excitement. I will fight to
the last to secure the Blessings of Liberty for the people of
America, and to keep speech free.
Hence my new sign for Sunday:
WHAT'S
NEXT? PRAY TO END FREE SPEECH
Ultima
Ratio Regum - 場黑麥
John
Paul Roggenkamp
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