Losers. Anti-cop protestors roared in like lions, but high-tailed it out like silenced lambs after their grand scheme to burn the American and Confederate flags in Fort Greene Park extinguished in a puff of smoke.
Local bravehearts whooped their ninny butts, while the cops they were venting against came swiftly to their rescue. Hardy-hardy-har-di-har-har!
The puny protest by Disarm NYPD drew the typical cast of chronic antagonists and thumb-suckers with an axe to grind against everything and nothing, unable to decide if they are hopping mad at Uncle Sam, whites, rich folk, working stiffs, Republicans, Tea Partiers, U.S. troops, the Dukes of Hazzard, their erstwhile baby blankies, or the cops who saved their sorry arses.
As Groucho Marx famously said, “Whatever it is, I’m against it!” Yet the freedom blighters only had to look around them to see the legacies of real rebels who surrendered their lives for causes worth the trouble:
• Fort Greene Park sits on the site of fortresses built for the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812, the former resulting in the birth of America and the latter securing American maritime rights and ending impressment.
• The park’s Prison Ship Martyrs Monument pays tribute to America’s first prisoners of war: the more than 11,500 soldiers and civilians who perished aboard the British prison ships docked in New York Harbor during the Revolutionary War, and whose dead bodies the British dumped into shallow mass graves on the shore of Wallabout Bay. Would Disarm NYPD’s dopes have even acknowledged the tragic corpses or bothered to retrieve them for a proper burial? Nah.
America’s first rebels were the troops, war prisoners, and ordinary Janes and Joes who endured unspeakable horrors on behalf of their yet-unborn nation, losing life, limb, and livelihood to deliver future freedoms — on a red, white, and blue ocean of blood — to the loathsome likes of the Fort Greene flag burners.
Fortunately they didn’t live to see their valiant efforts and excruciating suffering mocked — if only symbolically — by wimps of the lowest order, unlike today’s war heroes fighting sworn enemies on the frontlines. As they dodge bullets, grenades, landmines, and bombs, who can blame them for thinking, “And for what?”
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