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Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! I am on my mobile version of the door-to-door, going town-to-town holding readings/gatherings/discussions of my book "But What Can I Do?" This is my often neglected blog mostly about my travels since 9/11 as I engage in dialogue and actions. It is froth with my opinions, insights, analyses toward that end of holding all life sacred, dismantling the empire and eliminating violence while creating the society we want all to thrive in

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Kill the devil


I’ve made it to Laramie again! I enjoy coming here after making it thru the western part of Wyoming. I didn’t get one fuck you yet but there’s a general hostility that mixes with the fumes emanating from the asphalt.
For one thing, there are too many white male cowboy types materializing among the beautiful reddish rocks and cliffs. Plus all my past experiences combine to make me happy to be in Laramie – still cautious but happy.
I’m in the parking lot at a grocery store approaching the front doors when I notice two young white girls frozen, gaping at my truck. I greet them with a howdy and have you girls heard of CodePINK:womyn for peace? They are so excited, they both start talking at once. I find out they are from Cheyenne, which is why they think they haven’t heard of CodePINK. I go back inside my truck and get them some materials, then hand them each a pin. They are staunch democrats in the midst of a republican desert but they are determined to support kerry. They both talked about how horrible bush has been, taking us to war, how they are so against him and are worried sick about the election and the future.
They are about 12 years old, I’m guessing. I give them big hugs and tell them we are going to win this one, I’m sure! And we will – maybe not right away, but we’ll win. They leave with even bigger smiles on their faces and I’m happy!
Inside the store, I see I can get espresso!!! with soy milk!!! I’m happy once again. There is a young white man working the machines. He takes my order and then hesitates, looking me so deeply into my eyes, so solemnly, I’m thinking he’s trying to think how to politely refuse to serve me in my ‘pink slip bush’ t-shirt. Instead he informs me that he is buying me this decaf soy no foam latte.
In the same serious voice, he asks me if I’ve seen Fahrenheit 9/11 yet. I say oh yes, I have.
“Well I saw it last nite,” he grimly states. We talk about the movie and its impact on this young man. I thought we both would cry. He tells me he is buying me this latte because of my shirt. I thank him and tell him I will get him some materials from my truck, which I leave for him. So now I love Laramie even more!
Once I get to Cheyenne, I go to the same truck stop I always try to make it to – no biodiesel but cheap diesel and tons of truckers, tourists, and Wyoming-ers.
One trucker stops me on my way into pay. He has a voice about as loud as Wyoming’s wind on top of Medicine Bow.
“That your truck, little lady?” he demands. Grrrrrrr. I want to bite back with ‘no it’s my grandmother’s’  but instead I have to howl back “Got that right little fellow.” He’s sitting down but for sure he’s 6’tall and half that wide.
“Well you are so right on” he bellows. Then he goes into a litany of fondly bashing his fellow truck drivers, especially those who are white, which is most of them. He tells me about, once again, Fahrenheit 9/11 and how he tried to convince a group of fellow truckers to watch the movie in the trucker’s lounge a couple weeks back. A lot of these stations have truckers’ lounges that probably used to be as sacrosanct to them as the bohemian grove is to those boys. I remember the day when there were naked women pictures lining the walls and girlie magazines scattered all over but live women didn’t have a place to pee. Now there are just moments of silence, seconds of cigarette smoke standing still, even the huge color tv’s seem to pause momentarily, in most places when a woman walks in.
Chuckling brashly, he told me his friends had no desire to see 9/11 but he was still working on them.
“How can ya not wanna see 9/11, no matter what ya think you know?” he asks, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. “That was the number one best movie I’ve seen” he continues.                I encourage him to keep pushing those truckers to see it. Another trucker, this one short  and white, passes as we talk, pointing out the storefront windows to my parked truck and barks: “Pink slip nothing. Kill the devil – and he is the devil”. The two men then begin disdainfully mocking the human form of the devil known as george w. bush. I leave them to their comradeship and hit the road!

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