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An Antiwar Blockade Amid the Apathy Armada


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After 10 awkward minutes, reinforcements arrived in the form of a 12-piece marching ensemble, wearing green uniforms and calling itself the Rude Mechanical Band. A message taped on the bell of the band's tuba announced: "This Machine Kills Fascists."
The musicians were followed by a band of 100 chanting demonstrators, some carrying banners painted on bedsheets. The ensemble marched to the IRS's main entrance and, under the stone carving of the words "Taxes are what we pay for a civilized society," attempted their blockade.
The result, however, was more carnival than civil unrest. The protesters cheered as volunteers -- one or two at a time, as if plunging into a cold swimming pool -- hopped the metal barrier to be cuffed and arrested. "Sarah! We got your picture!" a woman called to her friend in plastic flex cuffs. Sarah let out a cheer. Somebody tossed a cardboard rocket decorated with IRS 1040 forms.
When it came time for police to haul off the trespassers in a van marked "Homeland Security," the band struck up "Bella Ciao," a hymn of the Italian partisans from World War II. Amused IRS employees -- free to come and go through the building's other entrances -- watched from inside.
The demonstrators retreated and rebuilt their blockade outside the IRS entrance on 12th Street. The Rude Mechanical Band played Beyonce's "Crazy in Love" and the protesters changed the lyrics to "Uh-oh, this war has got to go." A gray-haired woman in flex cuffs attempted to bump and grind with the officer who had just arrested her. The cops, prepared for riot control, couldn't help but laugh.
"Let's go, there's another one around the corner!" somebody called out. Indeed, Code Pink's marching orders called for the pajama-clad demonstrators to raise a ruckus at Starbucks, Cosi, Caribou Coffee, Au Bon Pain, Saxbys Coffee, Lockheed Martin, the American Petroleum Institute and The Washington Post.
It was a grueling itinerary; fortunately, they were accompanied by a pink canopy bed on wheels.




