Uh, What Do We Want?


Sunday morning, folks mass for the march past Madison Square Garden on 7th Ave. "Ashcroft is an asshole!" gets a few half-hearted cheers, but mostly people are just milling about, so an older balding guy with long, graying wavy hair on the sides starts up a cheer:

What do we want?

Apparently people aren't sure; there are a few mumbled guesses, but no real consensus.

When do we want it?


Well at least they know when they want whatever it is they want. (After a few more tries, they apparently decide that what they want is "peace." I'd been hoping for gelato, but whatever.)