Yesterday, while I watched TV and worried, my daughter-in-law was in downtown Denver in the middle of, and taking pictures of, the demonstrations. For those of you who want the woman-in-the-street view, she posted the pictures on her photoblog. She also posted some short videos on YouTube under the name AliceAitch and title “DNC Protests – Sunday”
The demonstrations might have been little more than a long Sunday walk (two miles from the State Capitol to the Pepsi Center) were it not for the omnipresent police in full riot gear. I’m not sure which is more conducive to trouble, giant crowds of people or riot-geared police.
I was disturbed that some parents brought their kids with them. Young kids. What responsible parent takes little kids into the midst of a crowd that could erupt into violence at any time? I also found it a bit curious that so many in the crowd were wearing masks. If they’re so determined to stand up for their beliefs and speak out against authority, why are they hiding behind masks? Seems contradictory to me. Like sending anonymous letters. If their intentions are lawful, why are they masked?
As far as I know, there was no trouble yesterday, but that may have been because far fewer demonstrators than expected actually showed up. The week is young. Stay tuned.
(Needless to say, the Denver Post will always have the latest news when you get tired of the national network coverage.)
One thought on “Denver demonstrators: safety in numbers … and masks”
My other half is in law enforcement, so I’m definitely not a badge-basher, but those guys look ridiculous. Is the way they’re holding their clubs supposed to be intimidating?
“Tap…tap…vee haff vays of making you talk…”
LOL! I should let you write the captions. It sure looks like that, doesn’t it? Either that or something along the lines of “Circle the wagons! Here they come, boys!”
I don’t envy them trying to prepare for this damned convention. Overkill like this seems to just beg someone to take ’em on. But if they were caught unprepared, imagine what could happen. Call me a fuddy-duddy, but I feel like I’m sitting on a powder keg.