Two Days in Camp Casey:
A Conservative's Belly-of-the-Beast Odyssey
By Curtis Loftis
On a hot and dry mid-afternoon, I arrived at Camp Casey, where the assembled demonstrators seemed in somewhat of a melancholy state.
Stressing cocktail conversation, not political discussion, I quickly made friends. My goal was not confrontation, but a desire to understand what was actually happening here in Crawford.
Going incognito was the only way pull it off.
After getting to know several nice women from California's Central Coast, I drove with my new friends to the larger, tented camp with Ms. Sheehan and Company.
There I found a well-funded and orchestrated public relations campaign, run by media professionals, complete with the highest-quality electronic equipment.
From satellite trucks and cell phones to wireless computer access, every modern convenience to enhance the ?message? was found in this remote part of Texas.
It was all there for the gathered left-wing, socialist and self-described marxist media representatives.
Everyone had a purpose and the environment was collegial. Ruthlessly enforced were rules banning drinking and regulating behavior.
Straying from the predetermined message meant an early exit from the facility. Handmade signs were monitored, less they distract from it.
Most of Sheehan's protesters were either professional, working for Fenton Communications, Code Pink, or other groups. Many were longtime protesters, with radical activism dating to 1965, or earlier.
In conversations with about 50 people over 48 hours, all seemed interesting and engaging. We talked sports, cars, of wonderful California and just about everything that could be discussed, without divulging my ideology.
But when political topics did arise, no matter what the issue, they all responded the same way: it's America's fault.
Toward the end, I decided to innocently toss out different issues just to garner a response.
One issue: peasant unrest in rural China, with the brutality shown by the government and their hired thugs. Their response: that America has mistreated its black citizens, or that gays are beaten here everyday.
So the hate America crowd really does exist, intellectually bulimic, having ingested all of this bile. As a show of steadfastness to their peace-and-love cause, they looked forward to regurgitating it.
In an air-conditioned trailer, Cindy Sheehan spent most of the time huddled with VIPs. When she did venture out, it was for scripted and televised moments. Always trailed by her media people, they were quick to keep her on point.
During one conversation with Sheehan, I asked how much time she would actually be spending on the bus tour to Washington. I discovered she would be on it for just two days and away speechmaking during the rest of the time. I wondered if they were paid engagements.
A media handler then grabbed her arm, leading her back to the trailer and away from me.
Their message was protected.
I was left standing there and feeling less secure about my status at Camp Casey. But just a few minutes later, she emerged from the trailer, smiling and performing for the cameras.
Like the carnival chicken that plays tic-tac-toe, Cindy Sheehan eagerly performs for any microphone put in front of her.
She is relentless, professional, well-financed and always on message: all bad things are America's fault.[q/]
I guess her handler had to take her back into the trailer to wind her back up.
