We've covered badass protesters like these before, but their way of protesting injustice -- repeatedly swinging their giant testicles into hypocrisy like a pair of fleshy wrecking balls until the whole damn system comes tumbling down -- is not the only way. Peaceful movements can be quite effective too. Reason, logic and empathy are all equally excellent tools of opposition, if employed correctly. And hey, if all that shit fails, you can always try complete and utter madness. Looks like it's working out great for these guys:
These Pants: They Are Unjust.
"Welp. We had a good run, clothes, but an end must come to all things ..."
Nobody sings the blues like a black man. Nobody slaps skanks like a latina woman. Nobody drinks like a Scotsman, and nobody -- but
nobody -- protests like a South Korean. When you're unhappy about something in South Korea, you don't write a wussy letter or file a pansy petition. You slap on your fightin' underwear and make like Michael McDonald: You take that shit to the streets. This particular image is of a South Korean soccer fan after his team lost to Switzerland in the 2006 World Cup. Though he was doubtlessly overcome by the futile rage that poor ball-handling imbues in us all, this man chose not to manifest it via something as pedestrian and vulgar as violence. No, he marched right out into the middle of the road, as both police and rioters swarmed all about him, and the world in general devolved into anarchic chaos, and he said, "You know what? Fuck pants."And he's right. Goddammit, he's right
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Kanellos: Canis Tumultus
Jesus. That looks intense, whatever that is. But wait, this is an article about protesters. So where are they? Are these actually rioters disguised as cops, or was this one of those "protest via self-implosion" deals? Nope: It's the dog. The dog is protesting here. That's Kanellos the Riot Dog, and if you've seen this image before,
every single riot
in Greece for over a decade now. Notice I said "a riot dog" up there: That's because Kanellos is only one of three potential riotous canines. There's also Thodoris and Loukanikos, who are often mistaken for Kanellos because they have similar coloring, and all wear the same blue collar (that's not a conspiracy; it just signifies that a dog is current on its shots in the city of Athens). If you're a little disappointed upon learning that the Riot Dog was not just one remarkable pup born with an innate love of tear gas only rivaled by his inherent dislike for The Man, take heart: The other riot dogs -- Thodoris and Loukanikos -- are most likely Kanellos' pups, carrying on his legacy. That's right: Much like brachycephaly and hip dysplasia, intolerance for social injustice is a hereditary trait.
The Protesting Clowns
Isn't that cute? Those clowns are affably mocking those police officers. I bet everybody's having a lovely, light-hearted moment in the midst of an otherwise tense situation up there. Except, of course, for the cop on the very upper right. Something about his posture is off. He looks a little scared, actually ...In fact, most of these cops look pretty frightened:
"EeeeEEYAAH!" "Haha, Bill, keep it together you can't be leEEAYAAAH! Holy shit I just saw it!"
But why? They're just innocent clowns! Hell, they're not even really that: They're actually protesters who've dubbed themselves
CIRCA, the Clandestine Insurgent Rebel Clown Army. And like most every 20-something doing some ridiculous bullshit, CIRCA seems to be taking themselves way too seriously, as Sociology 101 vomit like this illustrates:"The methodology of rebel clowning was developed as a way of trying to overcome what we perceived as some of the deeper problems in the way we behave as radicals towards each other, ourselves and our world. To share and disseminate this form, that we termed 'rebel clowning'" So they're not even real clowns, just self-important college kids who need more attention than ordinary rioting nets them. Why are those cops so scared of them, then? Oh, I don't know, maybe they faced down this terrifying goddamn wall of charging clowns earlier that day, and are still suffering from Acute Post-Traumatic Clown Stress Disorder.
I can not even comprehend the kind of trigger discipline it must take not to just reflexively terror-fire into the tsunami of grinning clown-flesh about to break right over you, but I do know that every one of those officers who came out of this experience with dry pants deserves a fucking Medal of Valor.
That's terrorism. That counts as terrorism.
The Slapshot Rioter
Canada is like the second roommate everybody has. Your first roommate was a horror: He threw whiskey bottles at the cat and held a rave in the bathroom during Thanksgiving Dinner. You were so shell-shocked from that whole experience that anybody with sideburns starts seeming like an unquantifiable risk. So when you were looking for your next roomie, you opted for the boring guy: He's friendly, polite, courteous and an all around great person. You know what? That's not fair: He's not really "boring," so much as he is "lacking in drama." This guy rules. Chris, buddy,
you rule. And then the hockey game comes on, and suddenly you've got a fucking werewolf in your living room.That's Canada. And this is hockey
. When the Vancouver Canucks lost 4-0 to Boston in the Stanley Cup Final, the entire city went Lycanthrope. If Dr. Jekyll is Universal Healthcare and clean cities, then this here is Canada's Mr. Hyde. He'd shake your hand, but he's a little busy right now carefully lining up to slapshot a smoking tear-gas canister into a net comprised entirely of suited-and-booted riot cops. If there's anybody out there who's ever displayed a more callous disregard for fucks and the ability to give them, well, he didn't make it to the riot that day. Probably because he was too busy being South Korean.
Lil' Horsey Rioter
Mark Duggan was shot dead by police on August 4, 2011, and half of England burned for it. ...The other half got pony rides!During the 2011 English Riots, there were many reports of looters stealing high-end cosmetics, designer handbags, electronics and jewelry. There were no reports at all of stolen rocking horseys ... but only because this man apparently burned everything in his wake while escaping. After all, it's kind of hard to file a report when you're a smoking corpse. Special Bonus from the other side of this conflict:Protesters don't have a lock on "looking badass in the midst of chaos." Here's the police force's polite rebuttal to all your precious Chaos and Anarchy.
"What's that you say? Smoke? Sir, I'll be with you in a moment. I'm busy pre-murdering the guy just to the left of frame with my steely gaze."
"Hey, fuck you piiiinnnNYAA*"
"Ahhh, much better. Now, you were saying, something burning? Oh, me? I'm burning? No, ha ha, no. I'm afraid I don't have time for that."
Motorcycle-Riding Luchadore
This man is part of a protest on behalf of the Mexican Union of Electricity. He's upset that the union he supports was disbanded by the Mexican government under allegations of corruption, and is attending one of many protests in an attempt to draw increased public awareness to his cause.Oh, and he's also suplexing a Harley Davidson as an entire squad of armed police charge him while emptying their bean-bag cannons into his back.That does bear some mention, I suppose, but back to the intricacies of the politics of Mexican unions. See, the Federal Electric Commission was all set to-What's that? He's still doing it? He's never, ever going to stop doing donuts in the midst of a furious police charge while dressed in full Luchadore garb, complete with flowing cape and bitchin' electric fist shield? He's going to be doing that forever? Well that's understandable. How can he not? He's just discovered the best possible thing for a person to do. What choice does he have, but to keep doing it until the eventual heat death of the universe? Everybody involved in this tableau of psychotic, unreasonable badassery has to know that there will never be a more awesome moment in their lives. Seriously, just look at the charging cop in the upper left:
That kind of pure, unrestrained glee has only previously been seen on the faces of starry-eyed children as they first push through the turnstiles at Disneyland. And now here it is, plastered firmly on the face of a fully grown man, who is also a member of the police force specifically tasked with stopping this moment from happening. But he's not going to; you know he's not going to stop it. If he ever does reach The Rioting Motorcycle Luchadore (dibs on the name for my firstborn), there's no way in hell that he's going to tackle and detain the bastard. He's either going to ask for his autograph or clasp his hands together and, with heartfelt earnestness glimmering in his wet eyes, whisper, "Take me with you."
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Robert Brockway
