The scenes were straight out of a spaghetti Western.
In Encinitas one afternoon last month, 12 self-styled patriots strolled down First Street, the downtown stretch of South Coast Highway, as a similar group had done at Carlsbad’s Village Faire a few weeks earlier. North County’s version of the “Dirty Dozen,” six men and six women, carried unloaded guns in holsters strapped to their waists. They said they were exercising their constitutional right to bear arms.
Six unarmed roadies distributed literature to passers-by.
Some on the sidewalk turned away in fear and disgust, as residents of Dodge City once did when gangs of hooligans rode into town. Above the traffic noise, you could almost hear the plaintive whistling of “Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darling,” from the 1952 movie, “High Noon.”
The events were enough to inspire another fairy tale from this columnist.
Once upon a time in the Land of Pink-Tiled Roofs, a collection of very angry little men formed a support group. Resentful that the royal rulers didn’t show them enough respect, they dubbed themselves the Minute Little Men, claiming to be the kingdom’s true patriots.
When they heard there were little women in the kingdom as angry as they were, they invited them to join the group if they agreed to be known as Minute Little Men, since they loved the name so much. And so it came to be that some Minute Little Men wore skirts.
The Minute Little Men were angry about a lot of things, but especially about the quiet invasion of their kingdom by a strange people who didn’t look, act, talk or think like them. These outsiders were hired by royal families to whack down weeds growing on palace grounds. The Minute Little Men felt threatened by these strange people swinging swords behind castle gates. They demanded weapons to protect themselves from attack.
But in the Land of Pink-Tiled Roofs, carrying deadly weapons was mostly forbidden, except for those hired to protect villagers from thieves. So the Minute Little Men came up with a plan. They would carry dagger handles fastened to their belts, giving the appearance they were armed while obeying the laws of the land. They would carry blades inside their tunics in case they were attacked by those who didn’t look, talk, act or think like them. If attacked, they could quickly fasten the blades to the dagger handles and strike back.
And so it came to pass one sunny afternoon in a Surfdom by the Sea, a group of Minute Little Men, half of them in dresses, marched through the village, showing off their imaginary power. Some scurried away from them in fear. Some cheered them on for standing up to royalty. Some were merely curious. How long would it take them, they asked, to load their bladeless daggers?
But most simply smiled at how these Minute Little Men were unable to make themselves any larger, no matter how many dagger handles they wore on their hips.
Richard J. Riehl writes from Carlsbad. Contact him at RiehlWorld2@yahoo.com.
RSS Feed-Posts
richard ur awesome! what a joke these posers are. these people need to find a “real” cause. there are so many others. they are so obviously getting a kick out of this. what is their point really? ok so we have rights. we get it. no do something productive and help someone.
Oh yay! Now we have the naked people at the beach, exercising their right to be naked! Like someone commented in the last article about these idiots, the skateboarders are the criminals, but hey, carrying an “unloaded” gun, its A-OK! By the way, how would anyone, including the police, know they were truly unloaded?
Comments on this entry are closed.