What kind of America do you want? Dueling events in Washington offered competing visions of the future for this country.
The Rescue the Republic Rally featured an appearance by RFK Jr and a libertarian program of anti-vax, pro-Putin, bitcoin-friendly speakers while Fiesta DC brought a joyous celebration of Latino culture to the streets of DC.
I went to both; here’s what it was like.
Rescue the Republic was, above all, boring, with an exhausted, stale quality to the presentation, ideas and attendees. They constructed a massive stage with towering speakers that could be heard from blocks away. Blue port-o-potties lined the sidewalks in every direction.
Rescue the Republic promised that 100k people would attend this rally to take back this country and “Make America Healthy Again.” Instead, maybe 3k showed up in DC on a Sunday for a free rally.
There was so much time to fill in the seven-hour (!) program that many of the speakers, like Canadian “man expert” Jordan Peterson spoke multiple times. Joining him on this “America First” platform were other foreign imports like Russell Brand, who became a covid-denying conspiracy theorist in 2020. Robb Schneider added his comedy and late in the day, when the audience dwindled to the hundreds, there was a musical performance from “Plandemic: The Musical.”
I missed most of this because I was at Fiesta DC, which was far more fun. This was a parade on Constitution Avenue with bands, floats and dancers which went on for hours; there were more people parading than had attended Rescue the Republic.
Nation after nation was represented – Chile, Peru, Argentina, Venezuela – each proudly celebrating their unique contributions to global culture. Kids on horseback, couples doing the tango, Mad Max-style cars with massive speakers, hamster and condor costumes, a float with a volcano on it – Fiesta DC had it all.
And what other country could put on this kind of celebration but America? We’re a nation bound by an idea, not a race, that welcomes all that are willing to work hard for democracy.
Caught up in the pageantry, I nearly missed RFK, Jr.
There was no written schedule but I assumed RFK Jr., the headliner, would speak at the end.
Nope. Why are chud events so poorly planned? He spoke in the middle of the afternoon at Rescue the Republic, leaving me scrambling to bike back to catch the last few minutes of his gravelly-voiced lecture on making America healthy again.
RFK Jr., with a worm in his skull and a taste for roadkill, is the health expert, online chuds lectured me after I questioned their laughable crowd estimates.
Without the Kennedy name, he’d be considered a nut. The wacky uncle who posts conspiracy theories to Facebook. Your high school classmate who followed a rabbit hole from macrobiotics to MAGA. The guy outside the White House ranting about vital fluids.
If Trump is elected, this man, who once strapped a dead whale to the roof of his car, will be in charge of CDC and NIH.
Once Kennedy finished his stump speech on female puberty, people began to leave- that’s why you don’t put the headliner on in the middle of the show.
Various and sundry aggrieved white males then got up to lecture us about the importance of the First Amendment, claiming that they had been cancelled for their views. They all have YouTube or Rumble channels, get paid for speeches and make $$ in merchandise. I’d like to be cancelled, too.
In fact, the only person cancelled at Rescue the Republic was a protester: Patricia Eguino aka “The Commish.” She’s an Advisory Neighborhood Commissioner in DC.
She was in the crowd for the RFK speech with a Simpsons-themed sign reading, “Mess with our democracy? That’s a paddling.”
Eguino was representing the people of DC, like me, who had been victimized by the Trump mob who attacked our city on January 6th. We will never forget and will always oppose you.
The organizers of Rescue the Republic, who talked about how their free speech rights had been violated, kicked out this little lady with a sign because this reminder of insurrection made them mad.
And, despite their supposed hatred of the Deep State, they used the Park Police, a federal agency, to remove her from the venue.
Fucking hypocrites.
Kicking her out wasn’t enough. Standing with her outside the fence, I saw a parade of “speak to your manager” types come up to the Park Police to demand that she be silenced. These were red-hatted MAGA chuds who wanted the Park Police to use violence against Eguino.
Included among them were a shirtless bro in a mohawk who came to the fence all full of aggro. The Park Police talked to him for several minutes as we shouted, “Put on a shirt!”
The day ended as a farce. After Kennedy left, it was b-list and below celebrities, including another foreigner, Lara Logan, to angrily shout at the Make America Great Again crowd. Immigrants are needed even in the chud rallies; another job Americans won’t do.
Nobody seemed very interested. Lots of people came over the to the fence to watch Eguino and listen to hear death metal screams of, “Traitors!”
Including some of the veterans of Freedom Corner, the nightly pro-January 6th vigil outside the DC Jail. Two years ago, there might have been some shouting back and forth; now everyone just kind of looked over and nodded, like you would when seeing a work colleague.
Anarchy Princess appeared on the other side of the fence, having infiltrated the rally. She interviewed one of the leading lawyers for January 6th defendants. He’s failed his clients 100% of the time in court, a feat that he blamed on DC juries rather than the fact that J6ers are guilty as fuck.
We pretended not to know AP so as not to blow her cover. Biketifa rolled up and yelled through the fence at her, “No filming! It’s a violation of my HIPAA rights!”
He also held up a sign revealing that one of the Freedom Corner livestreamers, GloryBeef, is in fact an antifa agent.
Not that much of our nonsense could be heard over the punishing sound system.
The audience trailed away, trekking through the muddy grass of the Mall.
At last, this got boring even for us. We left as Canadian weirdo Jordan Peterson got on stage for the third or fourth time of the day, replaying his chauvinistic schtick again, like a rerun from hell.
This is the end. Or very close to it.
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