SHEEPLE WHO NEED SHEEPLE...
A Kodak Moment
September 29, 2002
It's not every day you see a man and a woman at a shooting range comparing the fishnet stockings they're wearing underneath their jeans.
But of course, when you demonstrate in Hollywood, only the weird and wacky stands a real chance of making any kind of impact.
The intrepid RonDog and I first met up at Insight Shooting Range for a fundraiser for California pro-Second Amendment candidates. This was only the first half of our day.
The second half was the reason for the fishnets.
After the shoot, we met in Tinsel Town in front of the Kodak Theatre, where the cream of Hollywood whoredom were gathered to fete Richard Gephardt (D-MO) and worship at the shrine of Barbra Streisand, the Phony Girl herself, one of the high priestesses of the Church Of The Bad Spell Checker and coming out of retirement (again) to be the private songbird of elitist thieves, lie-berals, and the glitterati clueless (again). Now that she's made her living entertaining those who had a penchant for show tunes and old standards delivered in her inimitable self-possessed style, how relieved the woman must be now that she's rich enough to scornfully cast off her millions of fans as peasant interlopers cramping her style without worrying about how it might affect her record sales or box office receipts. She worked long and hard throughout her life to build this golden cage of privilege and continued ignorance, and now she exists in Cloud Cuckooland bliss at the thought that there are actually power players existing who think that her fame overcomes her miserable education and sheer egotistical stupidity.
Although the fundraiser (minimum $500 a seat for all you can stand) was primarily focused on the wonders of the Democrat Party robber barons and the evil insanity of Republicans and our President, our party turned out to lob some hardball facts into the crowd about Gray Davis, pay-for-play prostitute governor of California. (Flash him cash and he's easier to get into than a high school tramp.) We didn't care whether or not he would show up. We were there to educate via a little street theater.
The so-called esteemed attendees of the fundraiser, the champions of the Little People, showed their love and tenderness for their fans and supporters by slipping into the heavily-newsvan-blockaded side entrance...much to the chagrin, I reckon, of the Anti-War-On-Iraq crowd up front. You'd think La Streisand would be heartened and grateful for the citizens who supported her crudely-spelled rant to Gephardt, but I guess she was too busy kissing and making up with Dick. (Why let a little thing like a severe policy disagreement get in the way of quick cash for the gods of greed?)
It wasn't such a big deal to us to miss the glitz-n-glamour goons. They already know what we think of them.
And so did anyone who passed by the Hollywood/Highland complex between 6 and 8 p.m. RonDog had a Dr. Frank N. Furter costume on, a wad of cash stuck in the top of his fishnet thigh-high. Over his head he wore a latex Beavis mask, rubber hair painted gray. (You would never guess by meeting this conservative-looking, pressed-shirt-and-tie fellow that he would actually rig himself up as "eGray Hooker", but desperate times call for desperate measures.) His sign: eGray Will Work For...Bribe$! Strutting in his high heels and feather boa and shouting, "Barbra Streisand is giving away $4 million inside this theater, and Gray Davis wants some of it!" and "Gray Davis needs the money!", he managed to attract quite a bit of attention...even in Hollywood, as people were even taking pictures from across the street as they stood in line at the El Capitan cinema. ("Lookah thar, Martha, they really do have them thar cross-dressin' types here!")
I was dressed as a hooker with a Basque beret and striped shirt. (Evidence that I watch too many old, sordid B-movies.) I danced to the music provided by a passing bicyclist named Philip, who had a ghetto-blaster taped (!) to his handle-bars, blasting out some classic rock. I waved my sign at passing motorists (Hollywood Hookers Welcome Pay-For-Play "Sister" Gray) and did as much dirty-walkin' as my creaky knees would permit. "I'm pay-for-play, just like Gray!" I catcalled. "Hookers belong in Hollywood, not Sacramento!"
A trash can stood on the curb, slapped with Dump Davis stickers. Irishgirl, wayne_shrugged, Tony [no longer] in Hawaii, and gubamyster stood in "civvies" at the curb, stoically displaying their signs before the populace in their cars and on the sidewalks (FOR SALE: Gray Davis, Dump Davis, and Let's Keep the Hookers in Hollywood, NOT in Sacramento) and acknowledging those who gave us honks and thumbs-up of support.
Two of our rank milled within the crowd of sightseers, searching for feedback and tidbits. David Dennis, the in-your-face tireless shutterbug, was armed with a premium digital camera and video camera, and he wasn't afraid to use them. He got footage of the anti-war protestors, comments from passersby...if it moved and breathed and looked like it would talk to him, he went after it.
SixString, The Cordial Activist, mingled with the passersby, a miniature tape recorder chugging away, chatting with people and picking up comments from those who viewed our little group. Although none of us expect people to be entirely politically savvy or know the names of every player in Sacramento and DC, it was rather startling to have Six picking up off-the-cuff quotes such as "Oh, is Davis running for governor again?" and "Gray Davis, who's he? A senator? Oh, wait, I think he's running for governor." (No state is safe if the citizens don't even know who their state's chief creature is!)
Six chatted with an older lady who identified herself as a nurse. She was waiting for her friend to park the car, for she had managed to get a ticket to the DNC fundraiser just the night before - her son had purchased them. After some amiable conversation, the lady stated that she was neither a Republican nor a Democrat. "I'm from the south," she laughed. "I voted for Nixon once. I vote for who I think is right, and I've never missed an election. Last time I voted for Ralph Nader - they would boo me here!" Six stated that he was not happy how Gray Davis handled things, and the lady mentioned that she wasn't happy about what President Bush is doing, in that she has no desire to have war. She did say, however, she'd like to get rid of Saddam, but doubted we could because he was "too sharp", and she wondered what happened to Osama bin Laden.
Although heavily-laden with tasks earlier in the day, Outraged, HangFire, and Lady Jenn showed up to lend moral support for the late portion of the demonstration. Before going out for a late supper, we checked out the newsvans at the side entrance - all empty, the lapdog press no doubt inside sucking up the whiz-dumb of the powerful and privileged lefties who would have made Uncle Joe Stalin proud as a peacock. Khruschev should have said, "We will bury you...with ignorant sheep."
Because sheeple...sheeple who need sheeple...make really willing lamb chops for high-powered control freaks.
This is especially true of RonDog. It takes guts to dress up as a hooker and parade along Hollywood Boulevard, especially if you're a guy. I couldn't have done it; others admitted they couldn't, either. But Ron, with his positively frightening Gray Davis mask, was, well, unforgettable. 
He was joined by our lovely and talented Mercuria, who accessorized herself brilliantly for the occasion (check out the glasses and earrings!). Her getup may have been more discreet than we men would have liked, but her hooker wiggle had to be seen to be believed! 
Gray Davis' advertising doesn't seem to be working. I'd say about 1/3 the people I talked to simply didn't know who Gray Davis was. This is surprising considering the weight Garry South and others put on it. Those who understood the issues seemed to be uniformly anti-Davis; we certainly didn't find anyone who was willing to take his side. 
