Wednesday was May Day — that favorite day of the year when the oppressed workers of the world cast off their chains (riot) and stand up for human dignity (vandalize stuff).
But back in the days before TV, Englishmen of good cheer would celebrate May Day by breaking out their clogs, bell pads and dancing sticks, and hopping about like a bunch of merry idiots, bringing glee to the children and amusement to the senile. We can even catch them around today, flitzing about farmers markets — though the dancers are often a little heftier than in days past.
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Of course, the salad days were not to last, and in the 20th century, May Day became synonymous with Russia. And, as Russians are wont to do, they made it a sad and terrifying holiday. Soviet Russia flipped the spring celebration on its head by marching down the Square for Uncle Joe Stalin, trying to scare the workers of the West with their totally-for-serious faces and near-complete lack of gainful employment.
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Today, the smattering of Morris Dancers and Soviets has dwindled, and instead the workers of the world are represented by a new breed: Unintelligible teenagers who aren’t looking for jobs (but that’s OK because their parents have good jobs).
In Seattle, Washington, Wednesday night, the hipster armies streamed from the coffee shops and college classrooms, rising up against the city’s bourgeois Prius owners and smashing the fascist bicycle cops.
Here are just a few of the ways they liberated America:
Wednesday afternoon, the freedom fighters smashed racism and censorship, attacking an Asian-American reporter and his cameraman who, no doubt, were trying to undermine the street protests by bringing attention to them — something these folks definitely don’t crave. The people then attempted to strike a blow to the Man, trying to wrestle a camera from a working-class traitor to return it to the People.
Though their noble efforts were frustrated by the bicycle cops who fell off their bikes, the struggle lives on.
Also, for some reason, Norway really seems to get the people going.
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Wednesday evening, the working-class heroes created job opportunities for their working-class brothers by strewing rubbish all over the streets for them to clean up the next day. They next demonstrated their college-educated sophistication, frustrating free speech the fascists by blocking the would-be brutal counter-assault by heaping up a newspaper-stand barricade across the street. Though the Yankee aggressors surely wished to turn the barricades into the young heroes’ funeral pyres, the savvy tacticians left narrow escape routes navigable by their skateboards.
Oh, and be sure, comrades — those oligarchs at the Walgreens didn’t escape the masses’ might: The shattered glass will cause them to think twice before tempting the unwashed with soap, the children with candy.
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In our next bit of selfless heroism, the people’s champions attempted to hijack a tool of the oppressors, rubbing their derrieres on its unforgiving, steel hull and chanting. The vile pigs, who surely would like nothing more than to shed the people’s blood, stayed inside.
But the bicycle beaters were right around the corner, riding to relieve their fellows. Though temporarily routed, the saviors of Seattle did manage to hurl a traffic cone at another one of the cameramen co-conspirators. Shocked that the dastardly Aryans dare arrest, the friends of the workers retreated to hurl accusations of “Excessive force!”
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Oh, and if anyone out there is wondering just what these champs were fighting for on our behalf, check it out in their own words. And don’t get frustrated if no one can understand what he’s saying — he doesn’t understand what he’s saying either liberation is a complicated subject.
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But finally, the bastards bear their bombs, and as the liberators lob loot at the enemies of the people, concussion grenades cut into the crowds, dispersing the defenders of the destitute. As one awed onlooker opined, “That’s some shit!”
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But alas, all festivities must come to an end. The workers, who, as they say, work for a living, have to go back to policing, delivering newspapers, manning Walgreens counters, cleaning up trash and driving vans, and even concussed communists have got to go back to college. Meanwhile, we at The Daily Caller remain chained to our desks, under the glaring eye of our overlords, over-educated and underpaid, hoping in vain that the soldiers of Seattle will someday save us.
Hey, there’s always next May Day.