It was a Saturday morning in beautiful Ocean Beach, my humble community in San Diego, and I was ready to take a much-needed breather.  Let’s face it, as much time as I spend shuttling myself from the University to train my feeble brain, and over to MCRD to work on my feeble Gainz, and haranguing reluctant friends to come on the podcast, I was ready for some down time. Saturday mornings in an idyllic beach town means relaxation, a walk or bike ride down to the sea wall to chat up the local bums, maybe get some coffee, watch the waves… all the usual things.

But as I sat on the grass enjoying the surf, I started taking note of some troubling developments. First, I began noticing the “pussy” hats. You know the one I’m talking about. Suddenly, bunches of angry-looking pale, thin women were walking by me, faces set with that sour grimace so prevalent amongst that particular demographic. A booth began to be erected! A BOOTH!! Unbeknownst to me, there was to be a mini Anti-Trump rally, with the participants lining up on the sand to spell out, “Impeach.”  This was fantastic. Normally, I’d be highly irritated with these nuts bringing politics into my beach town, and thereby ruining my Chi, but this was a rare chance to do some recce of the agitated liberal in their natural state.

So I decided to stick around and do some field observation. Now, keep in mind that I have to live in this town, so I wasn’t planning on berating anyone or calling anyone stupid (those are for other, faraway demonstrations;) I just really wanted to listen in and get kind of the general vibe of the whole thing. I would have gladly spoken to anyone, or had a sure-to-be-fruitful debate on deportation of violent illegal immigrant gang members, or how Jeff Sessions is a secret Russian spy, but nobody dared to talk to me. So I posted up on the seawall to watch, and listen. One thing became clear almost immediately: This was well-organized and well-funded. The custom professionally-printed banners, the matching t-shirts all the organizers wore with the word, “INDIVISIBLE” emblazoned across the chest, the pale, thin women running to and from herding people into the proper places… there had been a lot of thought put into this.

It was clear I was being viewed with suspicion by the organizers. After all, in a sea of pale, thin, white women, your humble author and his rugged, freedom-fighting visage stood out just a little bit. One pale, thin woman with an earpiece dangling from her head, after walking by me three or four times, asked if I was flying a drone overhead, which I was not. After I told her no, she continued to walk by me, trying to get a glimpse of what was on my phone screen. I’m not kidding; during one of her patrols she managed to have a guy with her, whom I overheard reassuring her, “I don’t think he’s recording anything.” Even if I WAS, it was in a public space in a protest, for Chrissakes. Typical communists;  always paranoid about surveillance.


Then there was the news media, which, of course, had sprinted to the scene. I saw three out of the four local news stations had vans there. And the journalists were making sure that they had the right narrative. One moment struck me in particular. There was this pale, thin woman and her approximately ten-year-old daughter wearing their matching pink “pussy” hats. Shockingly, no father was around. I can just imagine that conversation:

Libtard wife: “Ok, honey, are you ready to go to the #Resist Rally? I have your pussy hat ready!”