My Code Pink Moment

-Denizen Kat

In regards to the Armorer's post from yesterday...

I had the distinct pleasure of meeting a code pink chic at my niece's school for family fun and nutrition Thursday night. I know she was Code Pink: Women for Peace because she had it printed on her butt and shirt.

I am unaware of any rally here in town or other reason for it so I assume this lady thinks she had to inflict her ideology on the rest of the world among the little kinda garden kids and their parents.

I can tell you, with all honesty, it took a great deal of effort not to keep giving her an evil glare and a piece of my mind. In fact, I had my uncle's dog tags, along with a "support the troops" and POW/MIA pin in my purse from the last rally I was at. She was standing right next to me talking to the mother of my niece's friend who had set with us eating pizza (yeah, nutritious). I reached in the purse and grabbed the tags, ready to put them on as blatantly and in her face as possible.

I wouldn't start it, but I was ready for her to say something. Anything. I kept thinking about the $600k in food and supplies that they had sent into Fallujah that the terrorists had taken and distributed across their network, the boys that were killed there, the poor people of the city that were tortured and murdered who never saw a piece of that, who suffered because the animals who had them used them to keep fighting.

I thought about the Major who wrote in his blog about the people who streamed from the city and begged to be rescued from the evil there. The beheaded bodies of men, women and children that the Major talked about being dumped outside the city or in the rivers. The burned bodies, the torture chambers...It was flashing pretty quick and I had it lining up to speak "truth to idiocy".

I kept thinking about these people outside of Walter Reed with their freaking signs and our wounded that have to drive by them.

I wanted her to say something. I WANTED TO SAY SOMETHING!

Then my six year old niece asked me if we could go jump rope with her friend.

I took my hand out of my purse, zipped up the pocket, took her little hand, she took her friend's and they skipped down to the gym where all the other kids were playing.

Time and place for everything.

If only that lady understood the same.

I know what the people at the rally felt like. I can't say that I would have been any better at that rally.

I almost wasn't. Just seeing those words made me mad. I'm still mad and disgusted.

I want to see that lady outside of the school with her code pink on and explain a few things to her like how she was able to walk around in her skin tight black stretchy pants with Code Pink on the butt,, dyed hair all frizzed out talking about going to get coffee at the local shop with the other lady, send her little girl to school, drive a car and, most of all, wear Code Pink clothes and protest the government because the people she and Code Pink disrespects lays it on the line every day, protecting those rights, her life and those of her family.

Something the people that she supported would have gladly killed her for instead of said harsh words and walked away in contempt.

Somewhere in Iraq and Afghanistan, while she was eating pizza at her daughter's school, a school was burned down because some little girls went to school there. Somewhere in Iraq and Afghanistan, while she chatted about how good the teacher was, a teacher was murdered for the audacity of teaching something other than religious indoctrination according to crazy men.

Somewhere in Iraq and Afghanistan, while her daughter ran through the school from one activity to another, a little girl was murdered because she even dared to set foot in a school. Somewhere in Iraq and Afghanistan and places in between, while she walked around in her skin tight pants with Code Pink on the butt, a woman was murdered because her hair wasn't covered or her ankle was showing. Somewhere out there, while she made an appointment to meet another woman alone at a local coffee shop, a woman was killed because she had the audacity to leave her house without a male family member escorting her.

As we walked among the books that read titles like "World Book Encyclopedia", "Natural Science", "Curious George", glanced at the pamphlets about nutrition, healthy living and posters that talked about making the right CHOICES, a man was murdered in front of his family because he read a book that wasn't the Qu'ran and dared to dream of the day when he could make choices, too.

Somewhere out there, while I debated whether to confront her and she proudly showed her contempt in her dress, having supported the murderers of these people of which I speak, as we stood in the auditorium beside the American flag, a man or woman in desert camouflage with that same flag on their shoulder died trying to stop those same murderers and for her right to call those who defend her a murderer and immoral. They died keeping the murderers she supported from finding her and insuring that she and her family did not suffer the same fate.

If fate should ever provide me the opportunity to speak to this woman again, outside of a school auditorium full of kinda gardeners, I want to tell her that.

Two weeks from now, I will stand in front of a meeting full of people from around the city and talk about putting up posters and flyers for Soldiers' Angels in buildings all around the city letting people know how they can support our active duty soldiers and veterans. I know for a fact that she will walk into one of these buildings and she will see our posters and flyers.

It will be her turn to grit her teeth and bear it.

The thousands of people that will see it, the troops and veterans that will get support and the few minutes I had to stand in her presence saying nothing will be worth it.

[A little family "reasoned speech" moment in flash traffic]