Hilarious and potentially suicidal prank by the Nut-tea party in Boston this past tax day.
I kept my sign raised proudly, even when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Soon the tapping was on both shoulders, but I kept my sign aloft—until someone forcibly pulled it down.
Now there was an altercation. Someone was climbing on top of me, using my back as leverage, to rip my sign down. Because I had on an enormous gay hat, this drew everyone’s attention—including Sarah Palin, who briefly looked up from her notes to register what was happening, then back down again, unable or unwilling to stand up for the rights of ham lovers.
I regained control of my sign, landing it on the ground in front of me. Suddenly I found myself surrounded by three burly men: one squeezing himself directly in front of me with a Sarah Palin sign so I could not move, a leather-clad biker type pressing against me on my left, and a bulky fellow on my right who started forcibly pulling my signs away from me.
It was freaky: I was in the middle of a huge crowd, with three guys who could easily take me out (I’m small). I didn’t know if they were hired guns, or just loyal patriots, but they were definitely coordinated, and angry. I sat through the next few minutes of Palin’s speech, engaged in a quiet tug-of-war with the guy trying to steal my signs. My mind was racing, weighing whether it would be worth the risk to display my second sign: OY, MY BUNIONS.
I was truly scared. On the one hand, these guys could follow me back to my car with chains. On the other hand, I only wanted to complain about a structural deformity of my foot. Didn’t I have the right, as an American, to kvetch about the enlargement of tissue around my big toe?
As Sarah Palin crescendoed into a rousing description of the bravery of our founding fathers, of their courage in opposing unfair taxes, I took her lead and fearlessly held up my sign.
There was an immediate cry from behind me to PUT THE SIGN DOWN, followed by a chaotic moment in which TWO guys surged forward to wrench the ridiculous signs from my hand. I was shoved down to the ground, stepped on, and kicked.
I clawed my way back up, determined to follow the guys hauling off my prank signs. The crowd was shouting at me now, shoving me forward. Someone ripped off my watch; someone else stole my hat. I luched forward, desperate to escape the melee. Mobbed to death at a Sarah Palin rally. That would be an embarrassing way to die.
To encourage oil drilling in protected American lands, Sarah began leading the crowd in an angry chant of “DRILL BABY, DRILL!” as the crowd pushed me out like a kidney stone. I was about thirty rows from the stage before the jeering and taunts finally died down. I looked over my shoulder, but no one was following me. I was safe.
(The Tea Party Prank: How I Got My Butt Kicked (Literally), Just a Few Feet Away From Sarah Palin)
thx Jon Charles Newman !