This is an account of how one citizen, caught unawares by Cheney slinking out of Portland in his limo, delivered a message from the majority of Americans. This story is from last summer, but I think it is relevant considering Cheney's recently announced "tour" of Latin American countries. One can only imagine the security he will bring with him (at great cost to us taxpayers), not to mention the costs to all the host countries for thousands of soldiers and police to keep their citizens out of spitting distance from Cheney.
I posted this as a reply to another thread and Peace Patriot suggested I make it an original post.
http://portland.indymedia.org/en/2005/06/318841.shtmlCheney slinks outta town
author: Lone, surprised voice
On my way to work this morning, I was barred from walking down Stark Street. Since I only work a block past the barricade, I asked the lone police officer if I could pass. He said I could not. Suddenly, it dawned on me why. "Is this for Cheney?" I asked. He nodded politely. I frowned and began to walk away. At that moment, the shiny black limos and the big stupid SUV thing emerged from the underground parking lot.
Without even thinking about it, I turned and walked back to the edge of the sidewalk and waved my middle finger at the limos. I was only a couple of feet from their sneering, blackened windows. Then I screamed, "Fuck you Cheney! Fuck you, war criminal! FUCK Cheney! Fuck you!" I had no prepared speeches to give, no well-thought-out responses. Only a visceral, gutteral roar from the pain of impotence growing in the depths of my soul ever since the wars started and people began dying in my name without my consent. And I was alone.
I could wonder why my voice was the only one. I was close enough to spit on him, had the window only been down. His pompous arrogance should choke him in the face of all that he and bushco have done, in the name of all the people who have died for their sins. Why was I standing there alone, screaming obscenities. Strangely, though, I was not dispirited by the absence of others. Because I know why there weren't others. It was because Cheney had had to sneak into and out of town like the unwanted criminal that he is. I had only heard about the royal visit less than 30 minutes before, on the radio as I got ready for work. This, in itself, is a victory of sorts. He is not welcome here, and he knows it. There are no parades, no adoring fans, no flowers for the entourage. There is only hatred for him. So he must sneak quietly in at the last minute, with no advance notice and no public access.
These are not elected officials, these are frightened figureheads on a creaking platform. This was not an opportunity to meet with the people, this was a sneaky mission to the outskirts of the empire, in the hopes of rallying the rats as they desert the ship. This is Nero, fiddling. This is the beginning of the end. So if my voice was the only one out there, and if my words were not written out eloquently in advance, so be it. He heard the quaking emotion, the stinging hatred in every syllable, and he knows I am not alone. Everywhere he goes in the world for the rest of his life, there will be at least one voice, standing for thousands upon thousands of others. And no matter how hard he tries to avoid contact with the people, at least one of us will always find him.
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