The March Was Stupid

The camera adds 10 lbs. of bullshit.

It’s 2 in the morning, and Evan just popped in, so I’m going to write this up as quickly and honestly as possible. I really need to get some sleep and drive to Milwaukee for Vice President Kamala Harris’s rally tomorrow evening. It’s at Fiserv, the same place the Republicans held their convention a month ago, almost to the day.

The March on the DNC was stupid.

I’m not calling Israelis stupid, or Palestinians stupid, or the organizers, or counter-protesters stupid. That’s not a political position, or the intention to cast one group of people as morally superior to another. It was a stupid protest, and most of the journalists who covered it will privately admit it was a waste of time.

Everything allegedly kicked off at 10 a.m. in Union Park. A pro-Israel group was allegedly holding a press conference, Jill Stein was allegedly holding a press conference, and the speakers for the March on the DNC were set to start at noon. I didn’t bother to show up because I had better things to do, like cardio, maintaining proper hygiene and cooking a balanced breakfast.

About two-dozen people from an (allegedly) Christian-led group carrying Israeli flags decided to march through the park while a bunch of my fellow freelance colleagues and I were griping and smoking cigarettes. We followed and watched as bicycle-mounted police raced to provide a physical barrier. Some kid cosplaying as a lost boy from The Outsiders rolled up with a metal baseball bat and started bitching until CPD took away his bat.

The speakers didn’t take the stage until just before 1 p.m. A friend had made it very clear that the activists were determined to speak for two hours, then march, so a couple of us said, “Fuck it,” and went to Kaiser Tiger for nitro coffee. They didn’t have anything for take away, but we managed to convince a bartender to just give us plastic cups full of coffee.

By the time we got back, Cornel West was speaking. A colleague posed a rather interesting question about whether West was getting paid to speak, or if he decided to do this one pro bono — which would be a steal for the failing, flailing, and Republican-backed career suicide run that is West’s independent presidential campaign.

After that, I watched fellow freelance journalist Amanda Moore ID and shame right-wing provocateur Jack Posobiec from behind a brand new keffiyeh. Posobiec was “undercover,” apparently, which was a poorly conceived gimmick seeing as he had a fucking camera crew.

When the march finally got moving around 3:00, it moved at a glacial pace.

”This is going to be the slowest mile and a half you’ve ever walked,” a colleague bitched as reporters and photographers who’ve never been to Chicago jockeyed to position. The March on DNC leaders, my colleague explained, were pissed their proposed route was denied in court, so they were going to make this as long as possible. It was less of a march than it was an extremely obnoxious “family friendly” shuffle.

Journalists were led to believe there would be as many as 50,000 people for the march, and that things could get violent. Social media posts from activists said things like, “Make it great, like ‘68.” There have also been rumors that some members of CPD have been passing around bootleg T-shirts that say things like, “We kicked your grandfather’s ass, we kicked your father’s ass, and now it’s your turn.”

This kind of stupidity leads many newsrooms and freelancers to prepare for the worst. They get duped by the really stupid decisions from wannabe badasses and tacti-cool know-it-alls. You can spot these assholes in crowds because they’re always shocked to find themselves being treated no better than an activist during skirmishes; or informing the yoots about the days when the press could fall back behind police lines. They’re the book-smart, old money snobs of journalism who have dental plans, rented Suburbans and expense accounts.

At Park 578, things got a little weird, but fairly simple to explain. Some tankies tried to rush the fencing and got arrested. Most of the protest had already moved on at that point, and multiple people were noting that there were more reporters at the park than activists. It’s unclear to me why the kid(s) who got arrested thought they could breach the bubble. Even if one managed to successfully evade the phalanx of police, they’d still have to traverse a wide open parking lot covered by several sniper teams perched on the roof of the United Center.

When the march finally ended, there were a handful of kids who tried to set up a tent in Union Park. The police quickly moved in and told them, in so many words, “You don’t have to go home, but you do need to GTFO.” This led to a rather idiotic standoff where cops, activists and journalists all suddenly put on riot gear.

At the end of it, there was nothing more than a giant pile of trash. Vermin Supreme was over by the entrance to the DNC harassing people with a megaphone that read, “This machine annoys fascists.” And after walking 10 blocks out of the security zone to find a bus that wasn’t rerouted, I came across some wing-nut in a pick-up.

And just then, when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any dumber, I looked towards the Sears Tower and noticed a Super Moon shining down.