It was a wild scene last night. Frankie Borelli and I bounced all over Manhattan looking for this dirty batch of protestors, and just when we thought we were out of luck, their stink cloud came cascading down 5th Avenue like fucking Pig Pen from Charlie Brown. It was truly a crazy scene. One Stoolie came up and said hi, but didn’t want to be on camera because he was only there because he needed to be around other people and he felt like he was going to cry. And as he told me this, tears began to well up in his eyes. To say that emotions were running high is an understatement.
We got a lot of Stool love, some battle rap love, and some random-stranger-on-the-street love. We also had a dumpy fat girl yell “fuck Barstool”, but she ducked behind a bus and ran away like a cockroach when I tried to talk to her about it. Chants, rainbow flags, armpit hair, body odor, hand-written signs, topless lesbians (they showed him) and a lot of anger marked a wild night of protesting. One guy came up and demanded to be on camera who I was legitimately concerned was going to do something very violent, as he compared this protest to the Arab Spring in 2013. If anyone from the FBI or NSA is reading this, I’m pretty sure I have someone to add to your watch list.
The rest of it was mainly disgruntled career protestors who liked to scream about problems with no actable solutions. But this is America, so they’re totally allowed to do that.