Needed: anti-Obi gestures

Joyce Capron
Today at tennis, after I made a hard point, my partner offered the Obama fist bump.

"I don't do that," I said, and I gave her a stern look.  It's not the first time I've run into Obamabots on the courts; the game attracts argumentative, competitive types (of which I may be one).  I didn't stop and lecture the O'Bot, because Wasting Indoor Court Time is a Sin.  I just high-fived her with my racquet, and went on playing.

I'm into civil disobedience these days, now that we Right-Thinkers are in the minority, living in fear of Obamification.    In small ways, I resist.

1)  I refuse to do the fist bump.  We Right Thinkers need our own hand jive, a nonverbal way to say, ‘I'm Anti-Obi'.  I'm open to suggestions.

2)  I turn His face around.  Whenever I'm standing in line in a store, and find coverboy Obambi staring at me, I turn the offensive magazines around to face backwards.  During Inaugural week, there was commemorative ideoporn everywhere. Obama market penetration has receded somewhat, but it's still hard to visit a Target or a grocery store without having to look at The One.  By hiding His image, I may be slightly interfering with commerce, but if I can prevent one more person from being suckered into socialism, I'll do it.
 
3)  I send e-mails to mainstream media, urging them to wake up from their Kool-Aid stupor and report what's going on.  Sometimes, I link AT essays, the ones where Larrey gets really wound up.  

Living in the bluest of blue states, e-mailing my Congresspersons seems like a waste of time.

4)   I have my talking points ready.  The best AT essays I collect in a Rhetorical Ammunition file.  If someone needs to hear what's wrong with the deficit or with federalizing healthcare or with failing to support Israel, I can tell them.  

The O'Bot I played tennis with today seemed like a Nice Person Who Just Doesn't Get It.  There's a lot of those types running around, a fact I believe is cause for Hope, because, while there's no point in trying to talk politics with hard-cord left-wingers, Nice Person types will listen, and perhaps can be swayed. If the Fist Bumper shows up next Monday, and asks why I don't do the crypto-fascist hand jive, I'll give her an earful.

5)  I send my kids out armed with ideas.  They and some friends are co-founders of the Conservative Club at their high school, a public school of over three thousand students, most of them future O'voters.  The faculty is overwhelmingly liberal, to the extent the Conservative Club had trouble finding a sponsor.  A social studies teacher finally agreed to sign on as sponsor, although he said he does not share their views.

6)  If there was a mass protest against the Porkulus bill about to be foisted upon us, I'd go.  Even if it snowed.

What else can I do?
Today at tennis, after I made a hard point, my partner offered the Obama fist bump.

"I don't do that," I said, and I gave her a stern look.  It's not the first time I've run into Obamabots on the courts; the game attracts argumentative, competitive types (of which I may be one).  I didn't stop and lecture the O'Bot, because Wasting Indoor Court Time is a Sin.  I just high-fived her with my racquet, and went on playing.

I'm into civil disobedience these days, now that we Right-Thinkers are in the minority, living in fear of Obamification.    In small ways, I resist.

1)  I refuse to do the fist bump.  We Right Thinkers need our own hand jive, a nonverbal way to say, ‘I'm Anti-Obi'.  I'm open to suggestions.

2)  I turn His face around.  Whenever I'm standing in line in a store, and find coverboy Obambi staring at me, I turn the offensive magazines around to face backwards.  During Inaugural week, there was commemorative ideoporn everywhere. Obama market penetration has receded somewhat, but it's still hard to visit a Target or a grocery store without having to look at The One.  By hiding His image, I may be slightly interfering with commerce, but if I can prevent one more person from being suckered into socialism, I'll do it.
 
3)  I send e-mails to mainstream media, urging them to wake up from their Kool-Aid stupor and report what's going on.  Sometimes, I link AT essays, the ones where Larrey gets really wound up.  

Living in the bluest of blue states, e-mailing my Congresspersons seems like a waste of time.

4)   I have my talking points ready.  The best AT essays I collect in a Rhetorical Ammunition file.  If someone needs to hear what's wrong with the deficit or with federalizing healthcare or with failing to support Israel, I can tell them.  

The O'Bot I played tennis with today seemed like a Nice Person Who Just Doesn't Get It.  There's a lot of those types running around, a fact I believe is cause for Hope, because, while there's no point in trying to talk politics with hard-cord left-wingers, Nice Person types will listen, and perhaps can be swayed. If the Fist Bumper shows up next Monday, and asks why I don't do the crypto-fascist hand jive, I'll give her an earful.

5)  I send my kids out armed with ideas.  They and some friends are co-founders of the Conservative Club at their high school, a public school of over three thousand students, most of them future O'voters.  The faculty is overwhelmingly liberal, to the extent the Conservative Club had trouble finding a sponsor.  A social studies teacher finally agreed to sign on as sponsor, although he said he does not share their views.

6)  If there was a mass protest against the Porkulus bill about to be foisted upon us, I'd go.  Even if it snowed.

What else can I do?