On Capitol Hill today there were quite a few unhappy people parading around in three distinct groups. The first to show up were the protesters, unhappy about the job congress was doing and intent to say something about it. Second, about an hour later, protesters arrived to protest the protesters, claiming they were nutjobs and shouldn’t bother our hardworking representatives during their already stressful workday. The final group to descend upon Capitol Hill also consisted of protesters, these protesting the protesters protesting the protesters who were protesting congress.
Each of these masses were more than willing to share their viewpoint. Ed Sigman, a middle-aged white male whose hairline had receded like the ebbing tide, was part of the initial group. “I don’t really get that third bunch of folks”, he says. “If they’re protesting people protesting protesters, aren’t they protesting against themselves? I might just round up some of my guys and start protesting their hypocrisy if they stick around for too much longer.” Another surprisingly similarly shaped man whose name I simply forgot had this to say. “We don’t know if they support what we support, but I’m glad they support us supporting what we support.” He subsequently collapsed under his own weight.
Aniva Stewart of Nebraska was the leader of the second set to arrive. “We think these media-brainwashed old farts should go back to their rocking chairs.” claimed the college student. “If they’re going to yell at our congressmen, we’re just going to yell at them. And personally I don’t mind those people yelling at us; by the transitive property of noise they’re yelling at the geezers too.”
The final protesters were very to the point about why they were there. “We have a right to protest, ya know? So why should people be taking a stance against a right given to us by the great Lord Washington and his band of Classy Men? Without his great wisdom and midget brigade, where would the country be? It sure wouldn’t be in North Americaland, that’s for sure. Certainly, we’d be some island, probably floating around Japan, leering at their scandalously clad cats with great envy while our felines wore petticoats. That’s where we’d be, let me tell you!” At this junction in our conversation, someone pointed a remote control at him and hit the mute button.
Will we be seeing these groups back tomorrow? “Probably not,” says Sigman. “I could only afford the hotel for one night, so I’m heading out tomorrow morning. But I know we got our message across.” Message received, loud and clear.
