August 18, 2006
Crawford, Texas
I received an invitation to join Our Suffering Mother Of Perpetual Peace And Publicity Sheehan (OSMOPPAPS) at the new Camp Casey down in Crawford, Texas. Apparently Cindy purchased some acreage not far from Chimpy McHitler's ranch and she was anxious for me to see it and join her reinvigorated peace vigil, so I hopped a plane for Texas.
In all truthfulness, I was slightly underwhelmed by the new spread. For one thing, it's not that close to McHitler's ranch. For another, it's pretty scrubby land, dotted with only a few crappy tents, several smelly Porta-Potties, and handful of protesters that appeared to have been left out in the sun since Woodstock. The PA system sucked, and the only music was supplied by a cheap boom box. What's worse, the only press on hand was a few kids from the local high school, and I suspect they were there just for the pot.
I hate to sound so critical, but what's the deal with our supporters? Is there some unwritten rule that only really ugly people can protest this war? I remember back during the Vietnam war protests how we were all so young and beautiful. Everywhere I looked at the camp I saw these same people with exactly the same hairstyles and clothes they had 35 years ago and I have to tell you, a fat 60-year-old balding guy with a stringy ponytail decked out in tie-dyed t-shirt, golf shorts, socks and sandals just doesn't look right. Add a fanny pack to that picture and it honestly makes me want to puke, I'm sorry.
Anyway, it was nice to see Peace Mother Sheehan (PMS) again and especially nice to see that her continuing liquids-only fast had apparently not taken too bad a toll on her health. In fact she not only looked extremely healthy, I think she had gained a few pounds since I last saw her. Weird. Later I saw her preparing her dinner and it all made sense. I don't think I've ever seen anyone puree an entire eight-pound Honey Baked Ham with Stove Top Dressing, candied yams, Jello salad, and carrot cake, but she did and then drank the whole thing. Yummy! The other day she was rushed to the emergency room, but it wasn't because of dehydration as the news reported, but because of an errant piece of lobster shell that got stuck in her throat while drinking her seafood dinner. Luckily, she was okay.
I was ready to leave after a few days as there really wasn't much going on. One can only do so much chanting, singing, playing dead, breast and genital exposing, drum beating, body painting, weeping, etc. for peace, and by Thursday I had reached my limit. Besides, the camp's herb was obviously locally-grown and tasted like a burning tennis shoe, and I would rather die from intestinal blockage than ever again step foot in one of those fetid Porta-Potties. Woodstock was like a stay at the Four Seasons compared to this dump.
While I appreciate all PMS has done to stop this war, I'm not coming back without a motor home.
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