HERE I GO AGAIN...

Yes, I'm back into protest-mode (as if you hadn't guessed by now), and I suppose I'll make a fool of myself once again, but what the hell---being officially an "old fart" at 57, soon to be 58 in January---I figure I'm entitled already. After all, what's the point of being an adult if you can't act like an over-grown teenager? Besides, when you get old enough (around 80 or so), it's considered "cute". Like the Red Hat Ladies in their deliberately mis-matched purple outfits, us old hippies can strut our stuff and ENJOY the laughs from the "audience".
I'm serious. Who would consider a bunch of old farts in hippie costume a threat? Even Dubya can't be THAT stupid :=) Then again, I suppose he could. But THINK of it! Protest marches of decrepit old hippies in ill-fitting duds (like that joke about one's youthful "hourglass" figure---the sands having shifted in the meantime...), limping along with crutches, canes, wheelchairs, oxygen mask-ed, the tanks on a wheeled cart trundling behind as we all cackle at the top of our wheezy lungs "Hey, Hey, Dubya, SAY, How Many Kids Didja Kill Today!" (Slightly cribbed from the 60's "Hey, Hey LBJ..." chant of fond remembrance.) I mean, is that genius or what? Don't answer, it's merely a "rhetorical" question, folks.
There'll be ZILLIONS of us pretty soon, if the statistic about one Boomer hitting age 60 every minute is correct. We could have so much fun---"flipping the bird" at political leaders---freely using the F word---farting loudly with every step---some of us finding unexpected "gift-manure" leaking from our Depends Diapers as well---all the way to DC! If that's not prime-time TV, I don't know what else would qualify. We'd be THRICE as disgusting as we were back when, and get away with it. All that "gift-manure" could be collected after the parade and put to good use in people's gardens---or we could THROW the turds at the politicos, like we did in Chicago in 68. Can't you just PICTURE the chaos? Okay, so we'd probably all be dispatched to the glue factory afterward, but we'd have made a wickedly nasty "point". And "brevity IS the soul of wit", as they say. We're gonna probably all be ground up into Soylent Green anyhow, so why "go gently into that" NOT so "good night" (with apologies to Dylen Thomas---I think. I'm not senile enough yet to confuse him with Bob Dylen---although I HAVE forgotten how to spell, it seems...)
Come on, you old hippies/yippies, this might be our finest moment. If not, it'll take at least a WEEK to clean up the street after us...