I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth,
The north side of my town faced east, and the east was facing south
“Substitute” by The Who (1966)
Most thinking people on the side of the insurgency against the police and state sanctioned murders aren’t sure what might happen next. It seems topsy-turvy because it is. The continual threat of violence is in the air, nay it is safe to say it is a reality. Scumbag #45 and his hanging judge Barr promote it, so the directive comes from the top down. They have an unlimited arsenal at their disposal. Even the most hopeful of us know that we cannot compete on the ground here, not as things stand.
And then there are all of the acolytes, the groups that begin with the letter “P,“ Patriot Prayer, or the Proud Boys. They might be critical of Trump because he is not doing enough to promote their cause, or is a chump even in their books, but for now they are in his camp and vice versa. These particular “Ps” meet head on with another “P” formation…our people in Portland, the protestors.
This is hardly the time to tell our folks on the barricades what to do. The fact that they are brave enough to face down these foes is testament enough to their commitment and fortitude. The same shout goes out to the protestors in Louisville, Kentucky. The cops there are itching to let loose, especially since two of their own received the eye for an eye treatment. It has come to this. In many people’s estimate, it will only escalate.
We need to check ourselves lest we adopt holier than thou positions, despite the Catholic fundamentalism of the Supreme Court choice. Our path is creating results, even if these are to be found only in the developing political consciousness of the protestors. It certainly seems to be scaring the bejesus out of those in charge. Yet the louder we request justice, the less attainable it seems to become. All the more reason to pursue the basic demand…”We are human beings, treat us as such or be damned with the consequences!”
I cannot think of a substitute for that. There is a lyric in the same Who song, “I look all white, but my dad was black.” Our direction right now points truer than we might think. We have to support those in the trenches who are holding down and walking the line, whether it is on the eastern, the middle, or the western fronts, north and south.