Ch. 16: Protest 2

Poor Portland getting weirder I fear


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CHAPTER 16: SHUT THIS TOILET DOWN 2

While Gilbert and Peggy got acquainted by sharing selected biographical
highlights the Mayor stood on a milk crate just a block south, holding a sign:
WHAT ABOUT THE LIZARDS? A woman stood beside him, looking up, sticking a
microphone to his mouth. She spoke in a sweet yet professional voice.
“So, Mr. Pickle.”
“Please, Samantha. Call me Mayor.”
“Ok. Mayor. Now you know as a regular listener to KBOO that we don’t shy
away from minority opinions, but,” she squinted at the sign.
“But you’re wondering what lizards have to do with this?”
Samantha smiled and nodded.
“I’ll get to that,” the Mayor said. “First I’d like to express my profound dismay,
though I shouldn’t be surprised, that this motley assemblage here gathered seems to be
ignoring the stated theme--Anarcho-Primitivism.”
“Well, Mayor, you have a point.”
“Close-minded ethnic tribalism, same as always. Everyone hiding within
the protective security blankets of their own in-groups, or cults if you will. Looks like the
strategy of divide and conquer is still working out pretty well for the lizards.”
Samantha nodded. “But who are the lizards?”
The Mayor searched his mind for the best way to introduce his argument, scanning
down upon the people scuttling about. Drunk and stupid. Why do I waste my time amid the rabble. On the verge of stepping off his perch and mumbling “no comment” to Samantha, he saw a familiar bald head. “Spaz, get over here.”
Gilbert was in the middle of telling Peggy of his hopes for writing a novel when he heard the call.
“Do you know that guy?” Peggy said.
Gilbert looked glumly at the Mayor’s sign. “Uh, well.”
“Spaz!” the Mayor barked.
Goddamnit, just when I finally meet somebody. “Hi Mayor. This is Peggy.”
The Mayor stepped down from the crate and shook her hand.
“What town are you the mayor of,” Peggy said.
The Mayor smiled. “It’s kind of a spiritual title. Bruce, the owner of the Coffee Tavern gave it to me.” Then he turned to Gilbert. “Samantha’s with KBOO. Why don’t you tell her what the lizard business is all about.”
Everyone looked to Gilbert, who slouched and fumbled for a cigarette while
gazing at Peggy’s shoes. “Uh, well I’d say that lizards are metaphorical of.”
“How dare you put your friend on the spot like this,” Peggy said, waving her
cigarette at the Mayor like a sparkler. “And on live radio no less. Take responsibility for
your own ideas. You’re the one with the sign.”
The pigeons were pecking away at pieces of broken up bread crust just in front of their feet. A few purred contentedly. Gilbert felt the pitter patter of light raindrops on the brim of his hat.
The cops were milling about, chatting with each other, looking bored. One leaned against a tree, eyeing the Mayor with interest, gently tapping the holster of his gun with his free hand. Another leered at the two women, unabashedly moving his eyes from one to the other.
“As I was saying,” the Mayor began, “there are people gathered here today
with various issues on their minds . . .” Peggy listened intently, her eyes wide and fixed on the sign. Gilbert struggled to maintain a look of poise, shifting his weight back and forth from his right to left foot. The small crowd's singing was petering out. The Mayor continued in a soft, controlled voice: “now you have labor issues represented here, the anti-World-Trade-Organization folks; you have those whose chief concern is opposing American hegemony; those opposing the neverending war, the Middle East poli-
cies, political corruption” (The Mayor sighed); “and of course, there's the Anarchists opposing the very notion of the nation-state and class inequities which are clearly becoming greater and greater, the poor are always shit on, if you say 'no' to this prison of a system, the penalty is of course complete ostracization, in short, you are not fed by the wardens, the zookeepers if you will.”
The Mayor paused to light a cigarette. The KBOO reporter, a slimly built blond in her early twenties seemed mesmerized, her unblinking eyes girlishly wide and innocent. Two policemen approached within earshod then stood at attention and watched. Overhead a Channel Eight helicopter hovered, its blades noisily slicing into the dark grey sky. Gilbert whispered into Peggy's ear, he's one of a kind. Then he thought, Ah, your perfume's perfect. Peggy nodded, eyes fixed raptly on the Mayor, who unperturbed by the
cops’ obvious interest, resumed his spiel amid a gently falling rain:
“I, however, have spent years educating myself on social and political issues, and have found the usual explanations, even the radical explanations and analyses horribly lacking; round and round we go talking about problems and how to solve them, but nothing ever changes, the world spins on its axis at twenty-three and a half degrees daily as we run about on its ancient surface seemingly destined to destroy it and all life; now aft-
er my exhaustive study, I felt just as uneducated as before, my lack of awareness and true understanding, unchanged, my mind filled with contradictory material, but then--”
“We need to wrap this up,” Samantha interrupted, glancing at her watch, her voice soft and apologetic. I can give you about two more minutes, sir. She touched the Mayor's shoulder with the tenderness of a mother. Peggy clasped the crook of Gilbert's arm and whispered, your friend is spellbinding. Wanna get some coffee after this? Yes, Peggy, I'd love to, he whispered in turn, eyeing the two cops suspiciously. Hopefully, they're just bored, Gilbert thought. The Mayor smiled at the Samantha and pinched out the tobacco of his finished smoke, pocketing the filter. I thank you so much for your time and your interest, the Mayor said. KBOO is one of the great local resources of this city.
Long live publicly-supported community radio, which is the only medium that allows complete and utter freedom of expression. It's a dying breed. Now, he said, eyes flashing with passion, I'll conclude: Then, I turned my attention to alternative sources, kooky sources, secret sources if you will. My intuition guided me every step of the way, I followed many avenues in pursuit of the truth, and then it hit me, the Mayor pumped his fist, his glasses beading with rainwater. I came to a point in my quest where all roads led to the same place, the same culprit, the same source of all human woe.