3/21/2005 12:06:00 AM|||Dave|||Living in Northampton MA (Moonbat Outpost #777), I didn’t realize today was a big day for the anti-everything left, one initiated by the ‘peace-loving’ Stalinist organizers of International A.N.S.W.E.R.

I drove into town around 7:30 pm to get some tasty chicken enchiladas and, as the dusk set in, moonbats appeared from all directions. At first I thought I was in some kind of yet-to-be-written “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” sequel as both sides of Main Street quietly filled with placards, lighted candles, and other iconic items. They marched in single file, solemnly, and from the sidewalks on both sides of Main St. then faced the road. The whole processional had a religous vibe.

Since my lawn chair was back at home, I decided to forsake my sit-down enchiladas and instead went with a chicken burrito-to-go and a chocolate milkshake. With these in hand, I was happy.

Gnawing at the burrito (damn, I forgot to put sour cream on it) I wandered through the crowd to size up the attendees and the more creative ‘displays’. The smelly hippie contingent was there, but not in the raw numbers I was expecting. This vigil was heavy on the Cherry Garcia segment: gray-haired ex-hippies, the husbands with paunches they didn't have back in the day, their wives with that loose, untameable hair quality atop fashionably bohemian, dark toned moo-moos.

Alas I did not have my camera, so I have no proof that my moonbat sighting was real and not some figment of imagination or the planet Venus. But I’m telling you, what I saw was what I saw. (You'll do no better than perusing these photos of today's SF's marches by a blogger who's an anti-everything moonbat herself. The photos are great. SF sure knows how to kick it up a notch. Bam.)

I looked for any "Free Ward Churchill" signs but then realized there's nothing he needs freeing from at the moment. Couldn't find any "Free Lynne Stewart" references either. Someone probably forgot to load those signs into the back of the VW Beetle. In approximate order of prominence and/or frequency, the following messages adorned signs and placards:

As I finished my burrito, I looked at my watch. It was 8:20 pm. “Deadwood” would be on shortly so I had to get going. I had a hard time finding my black Saab 9-5 in the hazy sea of other Saabs and Volvos parked everywhere. I made it home just in time for “Deadwood”. Now there's a depiction of reality.

|||111138146913079452|||Northampton Tragicomedy