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Random Acts of Protest


Perhaps not so random. It’s 38 degrees, clear and sunny here in Manhattan. The tens of thousands of runners participating in the New York Marathon will be coursing up my avenue, running past my terrace in about 15 minutes. In their honor, or maybe just to annoy them, I have just hung out my very last John McCain lawn sign, which anyone who raises his or her eyes up from the neck of the person in front, will surely see.

Manhattan is not exactly lawn-sign country. But I was passing a lovely townhouse with my children a few weeks ago, when they noted with surprise McCain/Palin signs in the window. No, these weren’t the odd rabid New York right wingers daring to antagonize the neighbors. The building in question houses the East Side Republican Club. So we went in and asked for one. The young lady in charge happily handed us four, apologizing for the fact that they were plain McCain, not McCain/Palin. We’ve had them up since, and while four seemed excessive, we’ve lost a few to rain.

As dismayed as I am by the likely outcome of this week’s voting, I think it’s important to, um, “get in their faces” as the man said. And, as conservatives of all religious persuasions — or none — understand, we must pay hommage to the gods of lost causes. They’ve come through often enough.

By the way, for the last forty five minutes the gathering crowds have been wildly, strenously, and happily cheering the wheel chair athletes coming by one at a time in a pretty long line. These are hardened New Yorkers cheering with passion for the astonishing effort and strength of legless people participating in a marathon. I just don’t want to be told that this country is insufficiently compassionate and proving otherwise requires government programs.


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