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These are my in-person thoughts after attending the D.C. march today. They reflect solely my belief in the ability of this march to begin to galvanize an anti-war anti-Bush sentiment in this country. I found some of the “peripheral” components of A.N.S.W.E.R. to be very problematic in the overall scheme, and many speakers operating within the (screaming!) theater of the absurd, but the thoughts below encompass only how I viewed this march (and not the "will anyone who has a cause anywhere within the realm of this universe please step up to the microphone and yell very loudly" rally beforehand) in the context of the question “Did it help us?” I believe it did.
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The Beast came home today. Hungry, renewed in spirit, and in a damn foul mood – The Beast came home. It came to show America and the world that it could not and would not sit idly by while this nation devoured itself from within. It came to show us all that rumors of its demise were greatly exaggerated, and that it would not rest until it had undone the greatest of all wrongs.
The handlers of The Beast were not worried – they had kept it at bay for so long now that they had little to fear. A little talk radio here, a few Foxian grunts there, and The Beast would slink back to its cage, silent and tranquilized.
Yet here, on a beautiful autumn day, The Beast appeared. As its numbers grew, it began to murmur. As they grew more, it began to growl, and as they reached thousands it began to emit sounds the handlers were heretofore unable to identify. It began to roar. And roar it did. The Beast roared as if it knew its life depended on it. It roared with a fervor and power that served notice to all who thought otherwise, and it roared with the knowledge that all wrongs would soon be righted. It roared for peace and justice, and it roared to bring back a pride in this nation that had been missing for far too long. It roared at its handlers to stay the hell away, it roared a warning to those who scoffed, and it roared with welcome arms to those who believed.
In its full-throated glory, The Beast began to move. It moved with a beautiful cadence, as if infused with the grace of Nuryev for the afternoon. It searched now for its familiar surroundings, for those places of government it had grown to love and cherish, badly tarnished now but with redemption at hand. It moved past places where at one time people had worked for the good of this nation, and it roared its belief that this too shall happen again. With solemn purpose it moved towards the peoples house, where the puppet dwelled. Rising on its haunches, The Beast roared yet again. It cried for the wounds of this nation as it screamed for her healing, and its voice strived to reach every corner of America. In its anguish The Beast poured out its soul, and in its anger its vengeance. It wept for those who will never again see the sun that shines so brightly on them now, and it wept for those whose sons and daughters now live in memories and photographs, and who now celebrate birthdays and anniversaries dressed in black. With every fiber of its being it hurled its justifiable contempt at the smirking squatter who brought it on. Rising now like some misbegotten wild stallion, The Beast without words spoke the voices of the living and the dead, and at the top of its arc shook violently as if to buck off the pseudo-cowboy who dressed the part but was far too cowardly to ever mount up.
The Beast moved on now, moving past once respected institutions of justice waiting to be set free, and through a city waiting to be reborn. It spoke the message loudly, for it knew that even in such an arid climate the truths it spoke would bear fruit. Seeds of a hope would be planted here today, and the ending of this national nightmare would begin with a simple slapping of feet against pavement. The Beast knew, as did we all. It had done its job. It was now time to take The Beast, in heart and mind, to Omaha, to Birmingham, and to Boise.
As The Beast went forth to spread the word the handlers peeked out from second floor windows and balconies, whistling past the graveyard that all was fine now, for The Beast was gone, fed and happy. Had they bothered to look harder, they would have seen what we all now know - The Beast had just begun to feed its hunger, the main course was waiting, and with so many cooks on board it would not go hungry again.
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