I wrote this last year, and I think it needs reinforcing: that if we’d just ignore the white power losers when they have their little rallies, they’d just go away.
It’s, to me, akin to the debate over the philosophical question, If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?
Yeah, probably, but point being, we’re not there to hear it, so, who cares?
We all know that the white power idiots who took to the streets of Charlottesville last August weren’t really there as the American history preservation society charter members they made themselves out to be.
They were there, of course, to provoke, but to be effective provocateurs, there needs to be a bear to be poked at.
And it’s hard, damn hard, to say, not in our town, not here, you’re not marching down our streets talking that nonsense.
So, droves of us take to the streets, here, in Portland, Ore., in Washington, D.C., coming up this weekend, the one-year anniversary of the Aug. 12 rally in Charlottesville, to take a stand.
Except that: that’s exactly what they want you to do.
Because that’s what gets the TV cameras broadcasting their invective to the world.
You get the Jason Kesslers and Richard Spencers spouting off about blacks and Jews and commies to a handful of fat, middle-aged guys in surplus fatigues and hillbillies from Pennsylvania with mullets and “88” tattoos, that’s not breaking news on CNN.
But, get them spouting, get the fat guys in camouflage and the hillbillies hurling insults at clergy and soccer moms and youngs among the progressives who aren’t afraid to throw verbal nonsense back at the other side, and you know what happens.
You get chaos, which gets exploited by the people who set it all in motion, claiming that their free-speech rights are being trampled on, that the beatdowns of innocents were the result of bottles and rocks and tear gas thrown by Antifa activists, which, for all we know, I mean, like you can’t station some of your white power bobos among the counterprotestors to push the volume on the tensions up to 11, no way, no chance of that happening.
The issue here is one of approach. You can fight fire with fire, which, certainly, works in nature. Another approach, also works, is starving the fire of oxygen.
They want to have their cousin-marryin’ festivals, let ‘em. Make sure they get their permits, go through the proper procedures for police protection, pay the necessary fees.
They get their hour or two to talk to each other about how imperiled they all are, compare notes on how many of them have full sets of teeth, whatever they do at the bingo hall every other Tuesday.
There is nothing more depressing than planning a big party and having nobody show up.
You don’t want to do that, I know. It feels like you’re giving the keys to your city to Neanderthals.
Think of it this way, and you’ll be OK with it: there’s a festival of some sort going on every weekend most cities, and how many of them do you go to?
You’re really not missing anything, other than a live-action version of the People of Walmart site, which, if you’re not familiar, don’t Google that, you don’t want to see it.
Just say no, is all I’m saying, and they’ll knuckledrag themselves back under their rocks.
Column by Chris Graham
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