TWO, FOUR, SIX, EIGHT, OUR SLOGANS TRAIL OFF ECCENTRICALLY - BEING A REPORT ON FRIDAY'S COUNTER-DEMO TO THE BAY AREA WOMEN IN BLACK

Well, the good news is that we managed to muddle their message. By dogging them and mingling in with their march, we confused several people into thinking it was more or less a pro-Israel March. We were helped by the fact that the women in black march silently, reproachfully, whereas we march noisily, and engage people in discussion. Plus our signs and flags are visually more engaging than dull females wearing shrouds.

The bad news is that though the media covered the event, they almost entirely failed to mention that there was a counter-protest, or convey the import thereof.


Part of it was the predictably slapdash approach of journalism.

Part of it was deliberate disregard - our spokesman explained what it was about, our flyers made that point, and our signs made no bones about it either.


And part of it was probably bias. A message that isn't simplistic and huggy just doesn't get into the papers or the television report. Our points of view are too complex, and not particularly feel-good. If each of us had our druthers, our signs would convey an entire thesis, with annotations and appendices. It is a struggle to be brief and to the point.

Nevertheless, "HAMAS MUST BE DESTROYED" is a far-less appealing message than some emotional bint wailing "what about the CHILDREN" (didn't actually happen, but that seems to be the gist of their issue).

You would've thought that our message would've been noted loud and clear by the media. It wasn't, and it may have gone over their pointy little collective head entirely. This despite the sterling efforts of the young fellow who got a hold of the bull-horn, keeping up a slogan-barrage.

But, after half-an-hour of hollering, he was punch-drunk with lack of sufficient oxygen and a depleted blood-sugar level.

And it is at this point that he dropped the rhetorical ball once or twice.....

"TWO-FOUR-SIX-EIGHT.......!"

Followed by no slogan. No catchy rhyming responsum. No content or context. Just a series of numbers followed by zero.

We really need to work on stuff to yell.


We also need to work on our songs - shabbesnacht songs, while nice, are jes' totally baffling at mid-day in a shopping area. A song in Hebrew greeting the angels of the most-high is more appropriate for Tzfas at sundown than Macy's at lunch-time. And the very nice episcopalian gentleman with whom I engaged in conversation while marching was somewhat at a loss when I explained the song to him - though he understood that a common song hoard among so diverse a group is necessarily extremely limited.


Still, if we are going to sing shabbesdikke lieder, how about doing lecha dodi and tzur misheloh next time? I'm rather fond of those two.


Or even a Yiddishe version of the Internationale - that ought to have a bitterly ironic resonance in the Bay Area.


Lastly, I should mention that a passing gentleman opined that we were the 'real Nazis'. I fear he may not have undertood what the term 'Nazi' actually means. It is sad that public education failed him so. He has my deepest sympathy. Every day is no doubt hard and confusing for him, a struggle merely to find his way out of his front-door successfully in the morning, and an occassion for jubilation when he does so without having made several wrong choices en-route to said door.