After I calmed down from the excitement of spotting the young Desmodus lunarius nihilista, I began to hear something that resembled music ... acoustic guitar, yes, it was a Macroglossius lunarius commonus folk dancing ritual, about to take place before my very eyes! Let's have a listen:

Surrounded by an army
There for their defense
Armed with APC's and copters
And lots of common sense

Behind a fence
Behind a wall
That shout just shall not pass
Broken shells, plastic bullets
And a thousand gallons of tear gas!

(Guitar solo)

World leaders kept on talkin’
Behind the moat up on the hill
And they boasted of prosperity
And their elitist free trade bill.

They defended their positions
And the glory of their claaaaaasssss
With broken skulls, plastic bullets
And a thousand gallons of tear gaaaaaaas!

Struck by the catchy nature of the tune, and filled with a sudden and powerful urge to dance, I hastily decided that it was time to move on.

A common misperception about moonbats is the belief that they are godless creatures. As is evidenced by these intricately crafted paper mache totems, that is not necessarily the case. The blue fellow on the left is the one called Naed Drawoh, the "Destroyer," or "Devourer of Worlds," considered the patriarch of the New Gods by various moonbat species. The lady in green is Y'Rallih, the "Matron Goddess of the Village."

According to legend, Naed Drawoh defied the higher pantheon of Old Gods in a brave bid to save humankind from the yoke of eternal servitude. In a last desperate battle he uttered a final ear-splitting war cry and promised to lead the faithful to victory across the land, but in the end was betrayed and cast out of the higher planes by the Ancient Ones. Moonbats believe that he bides his time until Ragnarok, or the "final reckoning," when the faithful will be called to revolution on the middle plane of Earth.

Y'Rallih is a much more complex figure. Often called the "Cunning One," or "She of Thick Ankles," she is feared as well as respected. It is believed that she bides her time among the Ancient Gods, waiting for her opportune moment to seize ultimate power. Moonbats have a love-hate relationship with Y'Rallih, but they generally assume to unite behind her once she ushers in the period of Nochtenveer, or "the thousand years of darkness."

While not necessary in the context of the current, massive swarm, when searching for more isolated gatherings of moonbats, it's helpful to remember that they are typically drawn towards stagnant pools of filthy water.

Ah, here we see a local District favorite, a pack of migrating Western Warblar Moonbats practicing the art of Luna-Kuchipodi, or traditional rhythmic dance. I've tagged this pack before, and each has a name and ID transmitter that enables us to keep track of their health status and whereabouts. They look strapping and beautiful!

Larger image

Let's listen in on their chant:

Side-step
Booty-shake
Clap! Clap!
(Whipping noise/motion)

Side-step
Booty-shake
Clap! Clap!

Our weapon of choice is not a gun
Our words are power
And toys are fun
Use your hands for somethin' better
Everyone get off together!

The pack then moaned and groaned loudly, dissolved into a seething pile and engaged in simulated sex acts. Amazing.

Macroglossius lunarius narisplanus boarerus in full-throated yowl.

Here we have a great shot of CheeChi, perhaps one of the most beautiful and interesting specimens I've discovered to date. CheeChi is remarkable because he isn't actually a Western Warbler, rather a Flat-billed Howler Moonbat that was crippled and orphaned by trigger-happy game wardens in Seattle and taken in by the group. This welcoming behavior really speaks volumes about the open and familial nature of these highly gregarious creatures. CheeChi hoarsely sings several octaves lower than his compatriots, and dances with a limp, but they gladly accept him as one of their own.

Here we have a great sequence of our girl Luna, performing a ritual attack simulation. If she was legitimately threatened and performing the strike in earnest, it would be accompanied by a howling shriek and the simultaneous discharge of various bodily fluids.

Here we have DeeDee on the left and Pinky on the right. Mistaking me for one of her own, Pinky is giving me her best "come hither" mating stare, while DeeDee blindly sways on. DeeDee suffers from a condition called Chiba Retinopathy, a highly common moonbat disease acquired from exposure to caustic fumes from something called the "sticky-icky." Repeated smoke exposure dries and kills the blood vessels in the eyes, and the the body compensates by overgrowing back a mass of new blood vessels that serve to cloud and dim the moonbat's vision and render them highly sensitive to light. Fortunately, the communal nature of the warblers guarantees this girl's continued survival.

Here we catch two Macroglossius lunarius gothikas indulging in a bit of the aforementioned "sticky-icky." The dazed yet friendly look in this boy's eyes indicates that he has also probably gone "wet" in an attempt to embark on a "dream quest." Good luck, little fellow.

Another District regular that INDC readers will recognize ...

This is where the expertise of a professional becomes essential, as we spot several full-grown specimens of Desmodus lunarius nihilista arboles, or the Dreaded Killer Anarchist Tree-bat. A close relative of its ground-dwelling cousin, it is imperative that one stays far away from these aggressive beasts. Unwary humans and benign moonbats step under their perch at great peril, as the the Tree-bat is known to toss feces, firebombs, or just leap downwards and pounce on its prey. Highly dangerous, highly unpredictable, stay away!

Here we see a full-grown example of the ground-dwelling Desmodus lunarius nihilista. This tragedy was not caught on film, but immediately after this picture was taken, the young buck turned and charged my position, and I was forced to dispatch him with several well-placed Hydro Shock rounds. Tragic, but a necessary risk to entertain when attempting close interaction with these wild and unpredictable creatures.

Herding game wardens keep their mounts some distance from the swarm, as the horses are known to stampede when exposed to the overwhelming scent of patchouli, and some moonbat species are spooked by close proximity to the four-legged beasts.

The migration begins! Horns blaring, beating drums and throaty shouts marked the call to march!

I inserted myself amongst the masses to get the best possible shots. Their twittering excitement was palpable!

There are at least eight species of moonbats in this frame alone. Can you identify them?

This fellow got a bit nervous as he spied me mixing with the swarm, but took no aggressive action.

Some Ancient Mini's proudly declared their allegiances and tried to keep pace with the younger members of the swarm. Unfortunately, mere minutes after this picture was taken, the Minis were trampled to death and partially eaten by a pack of rampaging nihilstas. In the midst of this sad yet natural event, I could hear the minis shouting. "Kofi, help us! Heeeeelp us!"

A beautiful specimen of Macroglossius lunarius afrikanusbadcreditus.

I followed the swarm through the canyons of glass, and to my surprise, there were no mass disruptions or serious attacks carried out by the more aggressive species. Other than a few random aggressors that needed to be captured or put-down, it seems that the pre-installed cages and heavily-armed game wardens enabled this to be a safe, healthy season.

Game wardens tag a nihilista. (Courtesy of Severnriver)

Several of the moonbats began to get a little nervous as they massed near the IMF, and not wanting to push my luck, I decided to call it a day. We'd seen a fantastic variety of species, witnessed various religious and social rituals and iconography, had a rare sighting of an immature nihilista and only had to dispatch one rabid adult. All-in-all, a fascinating and successful expedition.

I hope you've enjoyed INDC's coverage!

For the curious, a few moonbat FAQ's can be found here. Further inquiries are more than welcome.

And if you've missed our previous efforts, be sure and take a moment to peruse some past INDC coverage:

INDC Science Series: Seasonal Moonbat IMF Migration, Part One

INDC Rally: Into the Gates of Mordor and John Kerry's Pro-Choice Party

INDC Protests: Moonbattery and Media Chicanery Outside the Supreme Court

INDC Protests: International Answer Protests in DC

INDC Protests: ANSWER, MASSF and Jews United Against Zionism

Wardens Baker and Poncherello reflect on a job well done!

A common misconception, Kate. Moonbats apply patchouli externally, in concentrations that often cause toxic levels to arise in the bloodstream. Once a moonbat hits "patchouli saturation," they typically either enter anaphylactic shock followed by widespread organ failure, or undergo a rapid mutation by which their body embraces a new blood type: Pch negative. Once a moonbat has undergone this fundamental metabolic shift, it is officially dependent upon administration of exogenous patchouli for the rest of its life, much like a diabetic depends on insulin.

As for the stench, it was indeed oppressive, but tolerable to humans for short periods of exposure. It's also important to note that when documenting the swarm, often patchouli is the least of one's olfactory worries.

2. Rtfm writes:

Could zoo breeding programs be a solution to prevent further decline within their genetic pool?

First of all, Moonbats are in no danger of extinction. They fuck. A lot. And though much of this sexual activity is non-procreative and exploits orafices in ways that you may not have ever imagined, the male's sperm does occasionally fertilize the odd egg or two.

Second, the decline of quality within the genetic pool is an inevitable consequence of circular, dead-end ideology. Since moonbats are naturally anti-establishment, documenting their decline is one of the best indicators we have that mainstream society is indeed successful. I wouldn't have it any other way.

3. Colleague Brennan Stout expresses that he has had difficulty blending in during his attempts to document the Chicago swarm:

Different outfits don't work either. From "Men in Black" to "Bozo the Clown" I cannot disguise myself well enough to skirt their illustrious nasal senses.

It sounds like you are trying to hard, Dr. Stout. This isn't a Halloween party, it's a tribalistic ritual gathering. If you steer clear of the dangerous species and dress in a simple monochromatic t-shirt and jeans, they will likely leave you be. If that doesn't work, try smearing your body with poo.

4. Ernie G. writes:

How does one explain, in the presence of elaborate displays of social behavior, and the primitive use of symbols, the total lack of grooming behavior?

A common question. Many species of moonbat actually have very complex and elaborate grooming rituals, but since the goal is to project carefully considered apathy, the result is largely the same. I can assure you, however, that Macroglossius lunarius commonus does in fact use large quantities of American Crew Fiber or Loreal Styling Gel. Other species, including the more virulent strains of anarchists (who will be more heavily documented in part two), are less concerned with such trappings, especially in light of the imminent danger of handling burning projectiles in close proximity to highly-flammable hair products.

5. And finally, McGehee sums up a common line of inquiry with this age-old question:

Can you recommend products or methods that will confine or repel these things so we can nip this thing in the bud?

Like most wild creatures, the first rule of behavior is to leave them alone. Respect their space and it is likely that they will respect yours. In the event that a moonbat becomes unavoidably aggressive however, further measures can be taken. I often listen to many commenters discuss which form of automatic weapon or caliber is best to "mow down" these fascinating creatures, and it frankly seems a bit excessive. Most common moonbats are relatively harmless; a swift newspaper swat on the nose or a kick in the arse will usually suffice.

For more inherently aggressive and maniacal species, Hydro Shock 45 ACP rounds will typically do the trick.

I hope this answers some of your more pressing questions, please check back later for part two of our series.

UPDATE: Brian in Colorado actually asked the final question. My apologies.

I questioned these veteran game wardens about the present location of the Chiroptera and the likely route of their migration. I was kindly directed to Franklin Square Park and told that I was now standing within the carefully controlled path that the swarm would likely take.

The gentleman on the right measured his words with the following warning, however: "They're anarchists, so we don't always know where the Hell they're gonna wind up ..."

Point taken, my good fellow, point taken.

I could barely contain my glee as I drew upon the swarm. This was no minor gathering of a select few common moonbats, rather a cornucopia of various genera, species and subspecies. I had struck scientific gold, and was assaulted by a whirling mix of color ...

... sound ...

... and smell, as I plunged head-first into their midst!

How many symbols of revolution can you spot?

Immediately I was presented with a fascinating mix of moonbat behavior and iconography. To the layman, these symbols might represent a confusing jumble of ideologies, but upon close examination, they are united by a common theme: what they are against. This universal thread unites the incredibly diverse species of moonbats in a common, homogenous bid to be completely different.

Here a "Common" or "Long-tongued Moonbat" (Macroglossius lunarius commonus) views me with suspicion as I record her stunning body iconography. This may seem dangerous, but the ordinary species of moonbat is actually quite docile and tolerant of the presence of interloping species.

Here we see a perfect representation of the common moonbat, typefied by hipster narrow-cut jeans, athletic yet stylish footwear and carefully mussed body hair and grooming. These look to be young males of the species, probably somewhere around 21 or 22 years-old, in their prime mating years. Quite domestic and quite harmless, these common moonbats are typically found in coffee shops and student unions across the continental United States. Moving on ...

Here we have two fantastic examples of Macroglossius lunarius fligerius, or Long-tongued Banger Moonbats, famous for their fascinatingly complex percussive compositions. Typically harmless, typically vegetarian, this species is noted for its acute sense of smell, which requires the bangers to wear kerchiefs in a bid to tolerate the pungent scent of teen spirit that hangs in the air like a fine mist at such gatherings.

As I observed the bangers, I spied my esteemed colleague, Dr. Werner VanSchtrudenbacher, a legend in the field! Here he gathers recordings for his current project, an album layering sounds of the banger moonbats over popular music tracks. Here are two of his recent album covers:

(Albums courtesy of the Llama Butchers)

Dr. VanSchtrudenbacher made his initial mark by winning the National Science Medal for his work on moonbat psychology, specifically charting the structure of the moonbat brain. In a landmark experiment, VanSchtrudenbacher locked 10 common moonbats in a windowless room with some cheese, for three weeks. Over the course of the experiment, nine of the ten moonbats died after refusing to eat the cheese, which they claimed was an oppressive symbol of the pasteurization of America by insidious corporate influences. The tenth moonbat barely survived his time in captivity by carefully rationing and drinking his own urine.

This study led to the current focus on "moonbat neo-cortex dominance," a theory that focuses on the possibilty that moonbats have an unbalanced affinity for complex symbols and characterizations, and an underdeveloped amygdala, resulting in a poor survival instinct. Fascinating work!

Macroglossius lunarius antigeriocolorarius.

Here we see a close relative of the Banger Bats, the Technicolor Hippie Moonbats. Quite friendly, quite spirited, really just joyous creatures of the woods. That's a girl, don't be shy! She's a brassy beauty!

Here I snapped a rare picture of a closely guarded moonbat ritual, "the dream quest," aka "dropping paper" or "magic tabs." What the moonbats do is typically ingest two to four small plastic or paper squares that are drenched in a substance called lysergic acid diethylamide. Within 30 minutes, the moonbat begins giggling and experiencing vivid hallucinations, which are reputed to give them an expanded political consciousness. This is a very rare and precious glimpse at what is usually a much more surreptitously executed ritual ingestion.

Here we confront our first legitimately dangerous species of moonbat, the Latin-American Revolutionary Moonbat, or Desmodus lunarius checommunista. This is a highly volatile and aggressive species, and it is important to distinguish this fellow from his more benign cousin, the Macroglossius lunarius kerrysocialista. It's helpful to remember this little ditty:

Flag of red,
Filled with dread -
Hammer and sickle,
Don't be fickle,
Run, bitch, run!

The diversity of fauna was startling. Here we have a relatively rare sighting of an ancient miniature moonbat ...

... followed by an unbelievably rare sighting of a young Desmodus lunarius nihilista, or Killer Anarchist Moonbat. This picture is startling for two reasons:

1. The young Anarchist is being supervised by an adult of the species. Such structured mothering is aberrant and highly unusual behavior.

2. The survival rate of young nihilist moonbats is extremely low - mostly due to their oft-unsupervised tendency to play in traffic, run with scissors, swim immediately after eating and toss flaming molotov cocktails at armed police.

For many years it was largely assumed that this subspecies of moonbat emerged fully formed from a spontaneous mutation of the more common species. What a find!

Unfortunately, that is all the bandwith we have for this edition of INDC Science. Please be sure and check back later for part two of our series, where we'll learn about more musical customs and give you an introduction to some of the more dangerous and predatory moonbat species! Cheerio!

Also, if you enjoyed this coverage please take a moment to learn about how you can indirectly support these non-profit efforts by giving to help Marines fighting in Iraq. Learn about the drive here, and donate today. Seriously.

UPDATE: Hey Instapundit readers - just get it over with and Blogroll Me!

YET ANOTHER UPDATE: Have a question? Please read this following post on Moonbat FAQ. Please direct all further questions to the comments section under that thread!

FINAL UPDATE: PART TWO of the series can be found here.

Kerry campaign headquarters.

It is from this conference room that John Kerry plots the destruction of the American way of life. When I walked in, I immediately distracted the man-secretary by asking politely for the tickets, all the while surreptitously snapping a precious few reconaissance photos. The quality was low because I had to move quickly; the Kerry-ites fast became suspicious as my Republican flesh began to smoke and sizzle from its close proximity to the source of all that is liberal and French-looking.

This was the centerpiece on the right-hand wall in the lobby. I think it's designed to remind people of something, though I'm not sure what.

Misty, watercolored memories: To the left of the desk, some helpful photos.

After grabbing the tickets, taking some pics and weathering some looks of mild suspicion, I beat a hasty retreat. But was I really safe, or was I merely leaping out of the frying pan and into the fire?

I arrived at the site of the rally almost an hour early, and walked by some activists protesting on the sidewalk before the event.

WE INTERRUPT THIS POST FOR A DISCLAIMER: I loosely consider myself a Republican, but I am also pro-choice. Before anyone gets their panties in a wad in the comments section after this post, please try not to confuse criticism of the messengers with that of the message. I refuse to do a long treatise on the subject during this post. Thank you.

Bubba Sparxxx, DCMPD and three "sunufabitches."

Security, security, security.

I found the security tent a bit lacking. I'll skip the details for national security purposes, but I'm pretty sure that I could have snuck in with a beltload of Semtex and a cellphone detonator ...

Along the back street behind the rally, the Secret Service parked a fleet of greyhounds to block snipers. The logistics involved with repeatedly setting up events like this boggles the mind.

The Pro-Choicers gather in front of the stage.

I staked out a nice spot almost immediately in front of the podium, second-row.

"Girls Gone Wild: John Kerry Pro-Choice Rally!!"

The pro-choice groups were handing out shirts at the event, and rally participants felt the need to immediately change into them, showing disturbing quantities of flesh, including some brief shots of woman and man-boobage. I felt like I was at Burning Man or the Love Parade, except there was no MDMA, and all the naked people were really old and unattractive. The worst of it was blessedly not caught on film. Blllllleeeeeaaagghhhhhhhh!

"But mommy, John Kerry scares me!"
"You'll stop complaining and cheer - it's not too late for mommy to have an abortion, you know!"

Another pistola-packin "sunufabitch."

What is JFK's swiftboat mate holding? A white balancing sheet or a copy of Kerry's plan to fight the war on terror?

The t-shirt on the woman in front of me ... evidence of insidious foreign influence?

This lady was a load of laughs. She had to go to the bathroom about thirty minutes after staking out her prime groupie spot for the rally, and proceeded to shout at every worker that walked by "Where bathroom! WHERE BATH-ROOM!"

Otherwise, the following snippets were overheard while mixing in the crowd:

* Rallyguy: "I'm actually from Midland, and I met Bush. He's a real personable guy, real nice. He's just an idiot."

Rallyguy: "It ain't hard to get all C's."

* (Chants) "Pro-choice! Pro-Kerry! Pro-choice! Pro-Kerry! Pro-choice! Pro-Kerry! (chant stops, pauses) God I wish McCain would have run ..."

But McCain's pro ... oh nevermind.

* "I bet all the Democratic Secret Service people love him to death ..."

* Rallygal2: "Did you see those Pro-Life trucks around the block? Those pictures are really gross ...

Rallygal3: Yeah, that's what they WANT you to think ..."

* "Whatta we want? CHOICE! When do we want it? NOW!" (Rinse, lather, repeat)

Once again, Bill considers selling out the defense of Western Civilization for the siren song of a treasonous enchantress. Snap out of it boy! Concentrate!

The crowd makes some nooooise!

Here he comes ... Larger image

Bonjour! Le Sénateur John Kerreeee!

Some of the many faces of John Kerry.

This illustrates why I feel pity for politicians - because at every moment, every event, there's some asshat like me constantly snapping photos in an attempt to catch them doing something dumb. This is the third time that I've been in close proximity to the senator, and he is well-represented by the impression that you get on tv: somewhat awkward, but also imbued with quite a bit of natural confidence. That being said, some of his "uh-huh" faces were rather amusing. I've never seen Dubya, but I'm sure that watching him has its own special entertainment value.

Video of the rally can be found here.

Representatives of NARAL and ...? (I could not load the video from Kerry's site, and no information about the speakers was gleaned from johnkerry.com or the NARAL web site) Both of their speeches were hyperbolic and included the assertions that choice was the most important issue in the campaign, and the most fundamental issue that determines the state of women's civil rights - worldwide!

Um ... stoning of women in the name of Islam? Acid attacks on women? Female circumcision? Making the assertion that abortion is a key issue for women in the US is highly arguable; projecting your self-centered focus on abortion to the rest of the world is foolish.

We all have our predilections and pet causes, but I was struck by the cliched realization that many folks' entire political belief structure is based around total party allegiance that stems from only one or two issues. It's understandable, and I don't expect that a pro-choice activist would be very pleased with Bush, but the relative importance of very mild erosions in access to abortions seems to pale in comparison to the threat of the inevitable nexus of WMD and terror.

These folks agree about the fact that we are at war; they're just a bit confused about who constitutes the main enemy to their way of life; especially concerning the rights of women. If you bought what they were selling, you'd think that George Bush was on the cusp of introducing legislation that would institute mandatory burkha-wear in public schools.

Kerry finally speaks. You are getting sleepy, very sleepy ...

He wasn't the worst that I've ever heard him, but it was definitely a bit stale. Notice the looks of carefully projected interest and satisfaction on the faces of his wingwomen. Now watch as their expressions change ever-so-slightly ...

... when shouting erupts from the right of the crowd in front of the stage.

Good Catholics don't kill children! Good Catholics don't kill children!

To his credit, Kerry only paused for a second, imperceptibly shook his head and pressed on. From my vantage point I could only see that members of the crowd were forming a wall with their placards to block the voices and line-of-site of the party-crashers. Drawn by the conflict, I immediately ferreted over to their position.

This is a confusing image, but focus on the red circle placard in the center; behind it is the face of one of the protestors. The woman in the pink shirt to the left is the other one. What were most likely NARAL representatives linked arms and formed a human chain around the two people, dragging them towards the exit.

You can make out the guy's face with the placard over his mouth.

This is a good shot. The protestors are the man in the blue and the woman in the pink.

Freedom of the press silenced! Witness the crushing of dissent in John Ashcroft's America!

I was following the surge along, trying to snap pictures on a failing battery, when I felt a push and saw a hand in my face. One of the women in the foreground of one of the previous shots began blocking me and shouting:

"You can't take pictures of that!"

I'm not sure what angered me more - their attempt to block the photos or the fact that she put her hands on me.

Me: (with quite a bit of aggression) Get your *expletive* hands off of me right now, and yes, I can take pictures!

Her: Are you with THEM?!

Me (Pushing past her and continuing to snap away): No, I'm not with them!

Me: I don't want to take pictures of you ...

She finally fell off my scent and melted back into the crowd. I tried to get some better long shots, but the battery was almost done now; I had to keep turning the camera on and off to mine the last bit of juice. At points the dragging was more dramatic than these pictures may indicate.

A final shot of the NARAL gals doing the "Kerry-Katch-Em" ...

It's of course understandable that these people had to be removed, but I'd be curious to know the legality involved with the crowd forcibly removing them. I was surprised that they weren't asked to leave by professional security personnel. An amusing footnote - I spied one of the secret service dudes on the perimeter chuckling about the hub-bub.

Pro-Life protestors were circling the block with blaring loudspeakers and graphically-adorned trucks.

I disagree with these people; I think that the reality of life renders abortion as a much less black-and-white issue. That being said, if one has strong religious convictions that define the beginning of valid life as taking place at conception, I can understand the vehemence of their argument. I disagree, and personally find the rhetoric of these folks scary; but I understand. Somewhat. This issue will merit a more specific consideration in a forthcoming INDC post.

I'd had enough and my adrenaline was surging. I'd been slightly annoyed by the hyperbolic rhetoric, put to sleep by Kerry's cadence, amused by the musings of the crowd and filled with white-hot anger at being pushed and blocked by the NARAL woman. Definitely time to go home.

I kept an eye on the news coverage last night, and I don't think that any major outlets made mention of the disruption. You get the inside scoop here at INDC.

This guy looked at me on my way out - yeah Sparky, people do suck.

Update: A fellow weblogger has more details on protestors forcibly removed from the event that you may want to read.

Saudi fighters 'join resistance' in Iraq
By Shaista Aziz

"These men have already stepped up their efforts to kick out the American imperialists from Iraq, but what we are seeing is the tip of the iceberg,'' he said.

And how about this:

And this:

And this Livejournal account from a military blogger in Iraq:

Any Credibility that Al Jazeera may have had before today has been smashed. Today a demonstration was to be held to demand the release of an Imam who was a close personal friend of Saddam and used his Mosque to store weapons and as a Refuge for Baath Party members. The Demonstration was to be broadcast live on the Arabic news network and they wanted to get real exclusive News. They wanted Americans to fire on the crowds. In order to ensure that we would, they PAID people to carry weapons in the crowd and to fire them at us in order to provoke a Violent Response from US troops.

Nothing like making your own news, eh?

You're angry, right? Almost makes you want to do something, huh? Then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT! You have the power!

Give to the Marines in Iraq that are trying to develop alternative local media outlets to combat this hatred. Donate today!

I don't want to hear any excuses.

(Livejournal link via Instapundit)

Ah, there they are. Well, some of them. The group on the left were representatives of the media. The 25-30 individuals on the right were the protestors. The turnout would be a bit of a disappointment to any scientist intent on studying Macroglossus lunarius in its natural habitat, but I decided to check 'em out anyway.

"We were going to protest in North Korea, but the weather's much better in DC."

These folks are a bit confused about the definition of the terms "concentration camp" and "tyranny," but they don't seem that crazy. Hmmmm ... let's check over here ...

Bwaaaaaah! Jeebus Christ!

"I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. F-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f ..."
(Props provided by Industrial Light & Magic)

Who do we have here? Why it's our friend from a previous ANSWER protest, the guy that kept yelling "Fuck you! We're winning!" while the Iraqi was trying to conduct an interview. I think that he might have a wee bit too much time on his hands since Jerry Garcia died.

Where Are They Now?

A commenter on the previous protest thread remarked that this gent looks like singer Mark Storace from the Swiss 80's metal band Krokus. I present the evidence, you decide.

"Well he-llooo there ... my name's Bill ... from the weblo ... I mean, web magazine, INDC Journal? You've never heard of it?! That's weird. Um ... uh ... doesn't that chimp in the White House just make ya sick?! Maybe we should discuss this over a drink ..."

A reporter in the press pool takes a break with a relaxing crossword puzzle: "Hmmmm ... four letters ... starts with 'f' and ends with 'r' ... "'Blank' and balanced" ... hmmmm ... where the fuck is my latte?!"

Easy, breezy, beautiful. Covergirl.

Bob Franken from CNN dials up one of his ho's. "Goddamn that bitch better have my money."

This CBS national correspondent taught me an ancient reporter's secret. Get an extreme close-up in front of the only discernible pack of 10 protestors and say the following:

"Protestors gather in front of the Supreme Court as the justices weigh whether the Constitution can be invalidated by a single Presidential order."

As you narrate, have the cameraman do a quick pull-out and pan over to a shot of the Court.

(Quote is from memory, but should be accurate).

Does it bother anyone that this nearly infinitesimal group of protestors has such a disproportionate impact on the public debate via the misleading dramatization provided by a national news correspondent?

You know, just askin.'

"Yes, that's it, now pout, POUT! You're trapped, you're clawing, you're a prisoner in your sexy body ... now work it, yeeeessss, woooork it ... arch your back ... now lick the bars ... beautiful!"

And finally: "Well, I'll be, look at that! Them moonbats really can fly!"

I don't know. I've only had one memorable experience with a cabbie from the Middle East, a Lebanese guy. It was about 6 months after I had moved to DC for a job, and it was after a very bad day: my company had gone through some financial trouble and liquidated my entire department. I guess it was pretty obvious from my thousand-yard stare, because the cabbie asked me what was wrong. I told him that I'd been laid off. I told him that I'd just moved here. I talked to him about how tight the job market was, and the fact that layoffs were becoming commonplace among people that I knew.

We chatted all the way back to my home, which was a nice rowehouse, located in a nice neighborhood in Glover Park. I reached into my jacket pocket, and he told me to wait.

"It's ok. You need the money, it's on me."

I was pretty dumbfounded. Here I was, this guy in a suit, getting dropped off in a nice neighborhood, and this cabbie gave me a ride home during rush hour traffic without charging me? Simply amazing. After getting over my initial shock, I thanked him profusely and paid.

So what's the lesson that I drew from this? Nothing about ethnic origin, I can tell you. But random acts of kindness are so rare that they can be a pretty powerful thing. It certainly made a bad day a little bit better.

In case we don't fully understand the qualifier, we get some clarification:

(Quick [and probably unnecessary] explanation of my "almost" qualifier--would any among us find it tragic if Osama, Mugabe or Arafat came down with testicular cancer? Case closed.)

Osama, Mugabe and Arafat, eh? Examples of two murdering terrorists and a homicidal dicatator are put forth to draw a general analogy in a piece about people who have sex for a living. How appropriate. More on this later.

But anyway--is it tragic? Absolutely.

However, I have very little--if any--pity for them.

Now we get to the point, one that I don't find completely illegitimate. We are all free to pick and choose what merits our attention and who gets our sympathy.

These men and women engaged in outrageously immoral and irresponsible behavior. Put as bluntly as I know how, it has long been established fact that sexual promiscuity can be lethal. You can now die from having sex. In short, they took their lives in their own hands when they decided to start bedhopping for a living.

It is of course eminently arguable that "irresponsible behavior" is the cause of the HIV scare in the porn industry. People do indeed take their lives into their hands when they "start bedhopping for a living;" this is the strongest stament in the post. But I have to ask: if we lived in a world where promiscuity had no risk of fatal disease, would the author find the behavior any less objectionable? I mean, sometimes the US Military is the hammer of justice against terrorists and murdering tyrants that step out of line; is HIV then the hammer against "outrageously immoral" behavior? But this isn't my main problem with the post ...

When Rachel Corrie decided to lie down in front of a bulldozer, the blogosphere was overwhelming in its condemnation of her. As far as the blogosphere was concerned, she was asking for it.

These porn actors and actresses are hardly different. In a very real sense, they chose to gamble with death--to play chicken with HIV. So I have a very difficult time feeling sorry for them.

Another ill-fated analogy. Ryan uses the blogosphere's condemnation of Rachel Corrie to buttress the fact that he has no pity for the stricken porn actors. What this analysis fails to grasp is why much of the blogosphere condemned Rachel Corrie. The balance and vehemence of the blame wasn't directed at the fact that she put herself in a dangerous situation, rather, the fact that she put herself in a dangerous situation while defending the interests of murdering terrorists.

In contrast, you have individuals that put themselves in a dangerous situation by having lots of promiscuous sex on film (which is avidly purchased by average Americans), and no one is canonizing their behavior. I'd say that this is more than "hardly different." Drawing some sort of analogy between promiscuity and a woman that aids and abeds murderers is highly offensive, and is something that only weakens the war of ideas by engaging in a subtley different version of the moral equivalence of the left.

Yes, it's unfortunate that life has turned out this way for them. I hope they are able to obtain the much-vaunted protease inhibitors that, according to many, make HIV a manageable condition instead of a life-threatening illness. If they are fortunate, they will be able to move on with their lives.

But like Rachel Corrie, they were pathologically reckless. And, like her, they merit neither pity nor understanding.

A well-clarified qualification is followed by a repetition of the final offensive analogy.

Look, I don't sit around on Sunday, surfing for fisking targets among somewhat similarly-aligned bloggers that have typically good commentary ... but I need to point out that commentary like this cheapens the the condemnation of the threats to Western Civ and strains the alliance between religious and non-religious defenders of the realm.

The key to a successful defense of Western Civilization is going to be tabling our social differences and recruiting as many people as possible to the cause of anti-idiotarianism. This doesn't eliminate debate about social issues, but it does suggest that we should avoid casual, reckless metaphors involving the more deadly struggle. We can scrap like alley cats on the social stuff to our hearts content, but let's just keep Osama bin Laden, Robert Mugabe, Yassir Arafat and Rachel Corrie out of it.