We went aprotestin' last day in West Vancouver, Canada to let the world know that we will not be silent in the face of evil, that we will stand up and be counted in public as those who are willing to fight and win in the struggle for universal Human rights and the struggle for the rights of all people everywhere to determine the course of their own lives as they deem right without the crushing fist of ideology and state and fascist Islam making of their lives a misery of tormented farm animals. We went with some long sentences prepared. Lord knows, we could have gone with fewer words and less anticipation of conflict. The Death Hippies were ridiculous. The crowd they gathered around them were middle class teenage boys. The threat is a paper tiger. The closest we came to real harm, aside from the noise of the jukebox blaring bass, was a few tense moments listening to a middle aged mother with a "background in geology," sweatingly earned from a number of courses taken at the local community college, bless her anyway. And she, oh horror, knows it all and told us. I am a changed man. I slept badly last night. I might not sleep again after having gone through the night with the vision of The Spice Girl dancing through my fevered dreams.
The Spice Girl took out some valuable time from nattering at her children to tell us, to lecture us, to pontificate, to-- oh, oh, oh-- to let us know the history of jihad. It turns out that the Romans fell to defeat because of global warming. Yes, it shocked me deeply. I assume, (because she didn't get into the details of it,) that Hannibal's elephants emitted so much gas that the climate changed all across the Alps and the Italian plain, causing the climate change. Some things are better left unknown. But the depth of the lady's analysis that torments my waking miseries is that the whole of the world was plunged into endless war because the climate rose to such heights of heat that food was spoiling and the world needed spice to preserve it. Yes, folks, the wars of jihad were started by the search for resources, for spice. Today all wars are fought for another resource: oil. I am in a pit of inconsolable despair because in my dreams last night I recalled the hippie girl I related to meaningfully in the 60s who carried in her pack a bottle of our destruction, and in that I see for our collective Humanity the war that will end the whole of us in one fell swoop: The Patchouli Essential Oil War. We are fucked!
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