As Traditional as Stupidity

It's May Day, which means every protester in town is in the streets now.  Labor rights, economic rights, the very Rights of Man are being celebrated and organized by the mob. 

Thousands are making their voices heard in a great American tradition.

But you can't hear them from where I sit.

Though I am often simpatico with the protesters, for they have every right to make their voices heard, I never hear them.

When they come out en mass, the police follow them.  Then the helicopters appear in the sky, searching for that one clip of news that tells the story the electronic media needs more than any other.

The television media wants violence, and the helicopters will remain in the sky above my apartment all day and into the evening until they get it, or go home with a different, less saleable story.

I called the city to complain, a lark obviously.

"We can't do anything about the helicopters," a woman reminded me.

The protesters are managed like herds of sheep by the police.

While those actually disturbing the peace, the news stations with their whirlybirds, ruin my day.

This too has become an American, or at least a Portland, tradition.


TS