Holler Like It's 1968!

I was standing in the shade of the small oak tree outside of our office building today, having a smoke for the road, when, at 4:45 pm, my attention was attracted to a band of hooligans on the corner. They carried signs identifying themselves as members of the SDS (Students for a Democratic Society - Lord! Is that still around?), and were trying to block the street. Counting the butt cheeks and dividing by two - if you catch my drift - I estimated that there were 30 protesters. A handful of policemen were attempting to usher them onto the sidewalk, and showed remarkable restraint under severe provocation. I was amused by the antics of the apparent ringleader of this group of misfits - a scrawny specimen with shaggy black hair and an Assyrian beard - because I noticed that the vociferousness and vulgarity of his taunts varied in inverse proportion to his propinquity to the physical presence of the policemen. In any event, they ultimately moved on, but I missed the best part. An acquaintance of mine, who had watched the spectacle from his window, told me later that the crowd grew disorderly again, and that the police beat the crap out of a couple of the more obnoxious scofflaws. I am sorry to have missed that part, but I do rather hope that it was the Assyrian who got his clock cleaned.