Last Friday, as guests of the Trump family, my wife, Jeanne, and I braved inclement weather to attend President Donald Trump’s inauguration. By now you know it was a typical Trumpian ceremony. It was peaceful, elegant, momentous and frightening. At least the protesters were frightened. What they were frightened about is a bit unclear, but many of them were certainly alarmed.
Last week, I wrote that today’s protesters seem confused, disoriented, shabbily dressed and famished. My guess is that if the polizia had opened a soup kitchen, that would have distracted many of the demonstrators from their protest. I would suggest making available Kentucky Fried Chicken, or the fruits of McDonald’s and plenty of dessert. But apparently, that would have distracted only the clinically disturbed, a significant minority but a minority nonetheless.
We saw others as we left the inauguration. Many, according to reports, carried hammers and crowbars. They were well-fed and often wore black, as did Mussolini’s bully boys some years ago. I suppose these were the troglodytes who had answered advertisements promising $2,000 to $2,500 for participating in protests. The cops handled them admirably with water cannons and pepper spray and other instruments of crowd control. Many of the thugs were arrested and now face felony charges — not misdemeanor charges, felony charges. Perhaps during their interrogation they will be asked who offered them the loot. The estimates that I have seen claim that over 230 are facing up to 10 years in the can for their violence. Could George Soros have been their benefactor?
The rest of Friday’s demonstrators were pretty well-mannered, and so were many of the women and mama’s boys who participated in Saturday’s Women’s March on Washington. They were mostly peaceful, as they should have been given their meditations on the gals’ vaginas. Many of the gals wore what looked like handwoven pink stocking caps. They called them “p—- hats.” I suppose the men in the march could have worn “penis hats” complete with testicles, though that might have infuriated the women who seem to believe that what resides between their legs is sacred real estate. These mama’s boys would not want to be accused of violating the women’s space.
These women are still outraged by Trump’s surreptitiously taped — and possibly illegally broadcast — private remarks years ago to someone called Billy Bush. He said that by virtue of his celebrity, he could grab any woman by the puppy. Actually, he said something more vulgar, but the prudish Washington Post transcribed it as “p—y.” I, the Victorian gent that I am, assume the original word was “puppy.” By the way, I think it is preposterous to believe that Trump was serious when he told Bush he could grab any woman’s puppy. Trump is an animal lover and moreover a self-proclaimed germophobe. Touching a woman’s puppy is not sanitary.
The women in the hats, carrying their unspeakably coarse signs, they went well beyond anything Trump has been alleged to say; they were over the top. But the mama’s boys with them were quite beyond anything I have ever seen in the pathetic street protester. I heard rumors that some were caught crying Friday, so I conferred with a highly trained journalist on Saturday after he had surveyed the crowd. He is Freddy Gray, a seasoned student of bizarre phenomena and deputy editor of London’s The Spectator. On Friday and Saturday, he reconnoitered the crowd assiduously and quite bravely. The women did indeed wear their p—- hats. Yet the mama’s boys were even more egregious. They cried. They cried in public, cried about the election, cried about President Donald Trump and cried about the police. Some, if Freddy is to be believed, cried on his shoulder. More than one sniffled to him, saying: “Police are meant to be on our side! We are the masters. They are the servants.” I hope the cops charged at least some of these sissies with misdemeanors.
We hear from the American press that the supporters of Trump are prone to violence. Yet no violence was demonstrated by the pro-Trump crowd, except by me. I elbowed a couple of guys who attempted to prevent my daughter and me from entering the Liberty Ball. I did not stop to see whether they cried.