The Cynic in Me Fades Away


Alright, I admit it.

I wish I had the balls that this guy has. This guy has stones. And I don't mean that in a sexist way. He has the bravery of the ages. He is standing there shirtless with cardboard, and the laconic cops are bored with it all. But he's there, and he's not afraid of anything.

Out there with him are other men and women who are equally as brave, trying to make something come together and work. A few years ago, a more cynical version of myself would have probably laughed. You can't stand up to the establishment in this country. You can't protest money, power, privilege and influence. The kids out there, running through the streets in ones and twos and threes and fours are no match for the fist of the Man.

Hey, the Man's gotta fall sometime. Why not now?

I don't know whether Occupy Wall Street is a fleeting thing, a fading glimpse of organized protest, a misguided attempt to put a country on notice, a media-ignored event of significant ramifications. I have no idea where it will go and I have a lousy track record for predictions.

It starts with balls. Courage. Conviction. And standing up with cardboard, sans hair shirt and in a good pair of shoes that'll let you run when it's time to beat feet.

Anyway, this guy has that rare element of fearlessness that you find in the best of America.

These are Americans, standing up for American values and the American way of life. Wall Street told America to fuck off years ago. Trading derivatives and flushing thousands of mortgages and destroying neighborhoods was Wall Street's way of demonstrating how it feels about America.

This guy is the real American. Those cops should join him out there and show the Man what's what. Peacefully, of course. And with all the love of a Beatles album or something like that.