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Here's a bit of satire inspired by the Seattle scene. I just wish it really were obsolete.
The anchormen sat in the observation tower with a clear view to both ends of Main Street.
· Amanda Freeley here.
· And I’m Hank Dailey.
· And today we’re bringing you exclusive coverage of one of the largest demonstrations ever held in the village.
· What’s your take on it, Amanda?
· Well, from where I sit I’d say we’ll be looking at some pretty standard fare.
· A fair?
· No, fare. It’s wholesome public outrage, ah but each against a specific grievance and none of it about to move or influence any driving tenets or challenge basic premises.
· You’re weird, Amanda.
· If you say so, Hank. Now we ought to start seeing our ragtag group of agents provocateurs any minute . . .
· Hey that sounds French, Amanda. Want some cheese with that?
· No, but I’ll have some of your Freedom Fries.
· You can have one.
· I was kidding, Hank.
· Whatever (weird-o).
· And here they come! Moving with taut military precision, they’re as stealthy as alley cats as they make their sombre approach. For the moment, the police are holding back, it’s anybody’s guess who makes the first move. I think I see, yes? And the first volley flies! The police line moves back and clear out of range. Well done. Now what. The provocateurs are just standing there.
· What are they doing, Amanda?
· How the hell should I know, Hank. Anyway, now it looks like they’re going to make a short day of it. There goes the first shop window, and the second and the third and Oh the humanity! The police are powerless to stop this mayhem! Now it looks like they’re about done. Yep, they’re leaving the way they came and that just about wraps up Round One.
· Hey that’s just like they say in boxing.
· That’s right Hank. Where were we? The police are regrouping, and it looks like they’re loaded for bear, folks. Here comes the first group of peaceful protesters and just look at that turnout! Hundreds, ah make that dozens of well informed citizens freely exercising their right to be heard. Now they’re ready, looks like they might skip the preliminaries, but no! A basic frontal nightstick assault, straight into the line. A woman’s down, there’s the first blood, tactical retreat, and now for the second file.
· Bunch of commonists.
· Wait a minute. This doesn’t look good. My God. Are they actually going to open fire on those people?
· Let’s hope so.
· What?
· Well they deserve it.
· Excuse me a second, folks. Hank, what the fuck are you talking about?
· Well you saw ‘em busting out all them windows and stuff. Time to get righteous with these criminals.
· It wasn’t them, you idiot. It was a bunch of yahoos that are already long gone and you know it!
· You’re gonna get us in trouble using all those bad words.
· Look, now they’re shooting point blank at those people, for God’s sake! Look at this shit!
· -See? Told you. Here she comes. Now you’re gonna get it.
The producer, Sheila Dailey, emerged from the spiral staircase leading to the observation tower and stepped straight in between them.
“Nice work, guys. Time to go.”
Hank looked up to his older sister with gleeful, supplicant, servile superiority.
“Did you hear all the bad words Amanda was saying?”
“Naw. We cut the feed as soon as the windows were broken. Got some really good close-ups. Gonna look great in slo-mo.”
She patted Amanda on the shoulder.
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