Every now and then, you see something that is just mind boggling to the point that you just stop on the street and stare.
I am coming out of the bank and there is an Obama Hitler staring at me.
By Obama Hitler, I mean a poster of Obama with a black Hitler mustache.
I am no fan of the president, but its a little disturbing.
Discomfort, courtesy of Lyndon Larouche.
The guy who set up the little table with the disturbing poster on the front is with the LaRouche Political Action Committee.
He has hit me up before.
They want to impeach the president.
For what, I’m not sure.
I think he is a poor politician, a very poor one, but I don’t see impeachment.
But the delivery of these guys is somewhere between Hitler’s Brown Shirts and the Jehovah’s Witness’s.
The hemorrhoid approach.
Persistent and consistently annoying.
So I moved down the block and watched.
The LPAC guy has a unbuttoned Pendleton, over a wife beater and some jeans that could use a few rounds of wash, rinse, repeat.
Topped with a mullet.
Mullet just sets off any ignorant ensemble.
Like spats on black patent leather shoes.
It says, “Hey world! Get your IGNORANT here!”
He has a pitch that is like a drunk picking up girls in a bar.
However, his pitch matches his dress and the only people that stop to talk to him are, well, people like him.
So, as near as I can figure, he is not getting anyone new to join the cause.
Some people say the end justifies the means.
But what if the means is embarrassing.
Or a freaky little Crypt-keeper looking shit-weasel like LaRouch.
Let me back away from the political ideology of a minute and get back to the white trash in front of the bank.
I’m much better at making fun of people.
My mother always said its important to go with your strengths.
Not sure she meant this, but whatever.
Is the bank really the best place to post up and look for followers?
When I am pulling my hard-earned, over-taxed dollars out of the bank, I have a significant pucker factor attached to the whole transaction.
I am kind of in that mind set of, “No eye contact, leave me the hell alone.”
And for good reason.
This guy claims to only want my signature, but what he wants, what they all want in the long run, is money.
Look at occupy Wall Street.
They don’t care anything about money, but they are pissed about people who have money.
And they want it.
In the long run, a congressman, a banker, and a mugger have a lot in common and they only thing that separates them in scale of the crime.
And sometimes the whole difference between getting caught and getting away with it is scale of the crime and the perspective of who catches you.
To paraphrase the Rime of the Ancient Mariner:
“Money, money everywhere, and not a drop to drink.”