Freedom of Pizza
There’s been a story playing out on the news for the past few days, that I find amusing and perhaps a little frightening. As we all know (perhaps too well) the Democratic National Convention is about to start, being held in downtown Boston. Seems the folks in Beantown have decided that, with security being a concern, it would be best to shut down some of the businesses along the convention route. Immediatly across from the convention is a pizza place. Hanging from the top of the pizza place is a rather large, blowing in the wind, banner which reads, “Go Bush!”
I guess the pizza man was a bit miffed at having to “take vacation” due to the convention. Either that or he’s just a Republican. Either way, one would expect that it’s his constitutional right to wave whatever flag he so chooses, so long as he doesn’t disrupt the convention (akin to shouting fire in a crowded theater) all too much, which presumably he would not be doing with a fixed banner (despite the message emblazened upon it.)
A lot of folks have been talking too about Linda Rhondstat and her “freedom of speech” in defense of Michael Moore. While it’s true I’m not a big fan of downtown Boston, or of the coke-sniffing Linda, I would have to find these combinations interesting.
Freedom of speech and censorship, as it’s defined, can only be granted or revoked by the government. I cannot grant you, myself, or anyone else who happens along, the freedom to speak, nor can I censor you. In order for someone to be censored, the government would have to impose a fine, imprision you based upon your words, or torture you. That’s the textbook definition. What I want to know is, where’s the ACLU now? If Michael Moore has taken such a hardline against censorship, why doesn’t he stand up for the pizza man?
I’ve grown very tired of the “Hollywood” types trying to convince us how hard they have it. It’s the latest crazy from the crazies, “I’m being censored and blacklisted for my policial beliefs.” Hey, dudes and dudesses, welcome to the club. The rest of us working schmucks try to avoid talk sex, politics and religion at work, why should you be any different? What makes you think you’re so special that you get your very own soapbox, where you can stand up and shout out your spew whenever you want? In the middle of an awards show? I know, I’ll get up on my own personal soapbox and splatter out political spew. The folks at home have to listen to it because, afterall, I’m somebody important, right?
Um, yeah, keep believing your own press clipings and keep blowing that smack up your nose. It’s doing you wonders.
Until next time…