By Your Faithful General, George Washington
Hola migos. Que tal? I would bid a hardy buenos dias to you millions of blogreaders today as I come to you from the great blogport of San Diego, CA, but I’d be lying. In truth, I should say dios malos amigos. Because for lack of a better palabra, your faithful generalisimo is readily pissed off-o.
You see, I’m in San Diego to witness the greatest sailing race in the history of history: the America’s Cup. For days now I’ve been looking forward to blogging you about how Team America has sent the limey Brits sailing back towards their miserable Isles with their tiny dicks in their hands. But lo! I cannot. First of all, Team America is sucking more wind than they are extrapolating, and secondly, there is a bigger story I must address that is causing me great turmoil in mine ghost tummy. I am talking of course about the violent removal of the Occupy Movement protestors from their camps across the country. As I sit on my balcony at the Marriot and watch the massive racing yachts pass by with the grace of ballerinas and the power of Ron Jeremy’s shaft, I find reluctance in mine thoughts. Because the central thought that keeps ringing through my head is, “OMG. Am I really forming an opinion that is in protest to this protest?”
This is perchance my most difficult blogpost yet out of the entire 20 or so I’ve done, and by far the toughest blogfollowup, because I have only done one other and it was easy. And I am evertorn on this Occupy topic. As I said in my initial post about the Occupiers, I reeeeeeally want to be on board with this thing. Rickets! Could you imagine if I decided to form an Occupy Eternity group here in eternity? It would flip the universe upside down! A true champaign supernova in the sky, and possibly in your pants! But I can’t in good faith get on board the proverbial SS Occupy, because frankly, they don’t seem to have an end-port in sight.
In the beginning, the occupy movement seemed to have the same kind of noble beginning as my revolution. They, like us, were poised stick it to fat cats in fur coats just like we were fixin’ to drive the red coats back to Brittania with their tiny dicks in their hands. Then they started up with this Arab Spring kibbosh, and only like 5 of them were Islams. And whence people were all like, OK dudes, what kind of “change and justice” are you looking for, the list was such a jumbled batch of dookie, it seemed apparent these guys had no plan of attack whatsoever. They couldn’t even answer the simplest of questions. The mainline rhetoric stated that they didn’t like “The System” and that if it wasn’t changed, they were going to “break it”. Oh? Is that all guys?
And that was in the beginning. Now three months into their occupation, and the Occupiers haven’t so much as figured out where to piss, let alone proposed a realistic solution to America’s war on the greedy. Just last week even msnbc.com, the Occupiers’ most trusted news source, reported that they couldn’t even agree on whether or not to make demands, let alone, which ones they wanted to make. However, their stated goal still remained to “Shut Down Wall Street,” whatever the fuck that means.
Inherently, that is ridiculous. Even if you blocked wall street from foot traffic, they’d probably just chopper in and wonder why they ever bothered with the street in the first place. But for the sake of humoring you, let’s say you do succeed in “shutting down Wall Street.” What then? Sounds to me like you’d be doing nothing more your best impression of Rick Perry: “Uhhhhhhhhhhhh. Ummmmmmmmm. Uhhhh. Oops.”
While it breaks my no-longer-beating heart to see you bros and sisses get dragged off the streets like Syrians, I am confused as to what the hell else you expected would happen? If we’d have tried that tactic at Lexington and Concord, our boys would’ve swung from the nearest Maple Tree faster than you before you can say “I’m a protestor, and I show my emotion by wiggling my fingers through my cutoff mittens.” That’s why we didn’t start moving on the Brits until we had a solid plan. And we didn’t start shooting until we rallied the states and shoved the constitution up King James royal ass like a cold hard torpedo of truth. The only demand it seems you’re willing to make is that you should be able to block traffic and roast marshmallows on any street you so desire at any time. Sorry, compatriatos. But that’s not protesting for liberty’s sake. That’s just plain old complaining. If you can’t unite amongst yourselves, how do you expect outsiders to line up behind you?”
So, at the end of it all, all things considered, it is with great reluctance that I urge you Occupiers to peacefully roll up your North Face sleeping bags and Coleman thermo-tents that your dads got you with their Vanguard 500 dividends, and return upon the fortnight whence you have figured out exactly what you are protesting, and more importantly, how you want to fix it. If then your cause is deemed noble, I promise that I, along with the rest of the 99%, will hail you as the anti-heroes you so passionately long to be.
The Ghost of George Washington 