The Lonely Lecturer #getmoneyoutofpolitics

I had my doubts. Global Noise, a sister organization to Occupy Wall Street, had a permit to hold a street event at the plaza in downtown Seattle. The plan was to have a speaker give an hour long lecture about how the bankers and the rest of the financial services brethren are both waging and winning a war on the rest of us.

The speaker would be from our Get Money Out of Politics (GMOP) group, a small but earnest collection of political activists who came together as refugees from Occupy. Randy is our designated speaker and expert on the evils of the financial services cabal. He has a prepared slide show on the topic and is eager to engage the financially uninformed public. Possibly too eager.

I'm a veteran of sparsely attended rallies; I'm cautious now. The talk wouldn't begin until 7 pm, so that would be a lengthy, detailed lecture on financialization held outdoors in the darkness of  mid-October.
After a beautiful, extended season of sunshine and no rain, the Seattle rainy season began about a week before the plaza speaker event.

I am desperately unenthusiastic about attending this event, but I am a loyal team player and this is my group. The day is chilly, overcast, and the rain falls intermittently. I'm feeling glum as I board the bus to head downtown. I'm not at all clear as to the agenda prior to the lecture, but GMOP will be setting up a table with informational handouts and political buttons to sell. There might be dancing in the streets, or fellow activists might be banging on pots and pans to protest the unfair debt burden on the masses.

I arrive about an hour before the lecture is to begin. I see a nearly empty plaza; no dancing, no banging on pots and pans. At least I'm conveniently in downtown Seattle. I go shopping.

As lecture time nears, I saunter over to the darkened plaza and find the GMOP table manned by five or six compatriots. The props for speaker Randy are set up; the sound system is now playing dance music and possibly a dozen people are gathered. At least it's not raining and Randy is still game to go on with the show. The turnout is beyond disappointing; it's the least attended event imaginable. The situation is so preposterous, I turn unexpectedly giddy.

Professor Randy, who is actually a medical doctor, appears undaunted, and presents the full, unabridged lecture to the motley crowd. A few people are actually listening and paying attention. On all sides of the plaza, shoppers continue shopping; still resolutely uninformed. 

Friday Night Lecture

Crowd Shot

The Lonely Lecturer