I was excited, and a little bit apprehensive, but I drove downtown, and approached this bastion of evil.

This might have been the single most anticlimactic moment of my life.

It was an intimidating building, but only if you looked closely. It seemed completely deserted. No vehicles came or went while I was there.

What I was not expecting, was so much of so little. There was one guy with a hand-made sign. And another guy, with a clipboard. And a small encampment of the disenfranchised. I didn’t get gassed by the authorities, but I do think the dog that was part of camp farted on me when I walked by.

In a way, the very anonymity of the building was eerie. Sinister, even. You could imagine a convoy of black SUV’s full of, uh… shit?

By now, any of you who have been here before knows what I did. Or didn’t do. I didn’t Google anything. I did zero research. I got feed up with watching and decided to do.

Why are some of the doors boarded up? Anyway, as usual, I did what I do and like I learned to paint and carve tikis, and write songs and whatever art I decide to try, I just start farting around. I don’t learn technique, or proper tools or materials.

It is funny that there is a Tesla dealership behind the building.

Ok, so it turns out that some protestors have jobs, and their are planned demonstrations and stuff.

Well, as always, I will slowly get better at this rebellion stuff. Have I used enough ‘dangerous’ words in this post to merit government scrutiny? I know tRump won’t read it. Too many words.

Please follow along as the weird artist guy tries to change the world, one ill-thought-out plan at a time. I have started making protest signs, I will share images as we go.