“Your mama told you never to eat your friends with your fingers and hands. But I say you ought to eat what you will. Shove it in your mouth any way that you can.” From Silver Spoon, written by Grace Slick (before she went Vegan)

Do you know where you were 56 years ago? Statically speaking, most of you folks weren’t even zygotes back then, but I remember where I was in August 1968. I was in Sweet Home Chicago, specifically in Lincoln Park and in Grant Park, and I was pissed.

Compared to today, America was as different as Earth-616 is from Earth-1. You’ve probably heard a lot of noise juxtaposing the Democratic National Convention in Chicago back then and the Democratic National Convention that started today. Most of the comparisons I’ve encountered are bullshit.

We were protesting America’s War in Vietnam and similar issues involving freedom and truth. We didn’t like the policies of candidate Hubert Humphrey, a failed, phony progressive who became President Lyndon Johnson’s top toady. LBJ was a man whose ego overwhelmed his sense of decency and honesty. “Dump the Hump” became Hubert’s epitaph. The only major difference between Humphrey and his opponent Richard Nixon was that the latter was less cheery and more creepy.

Nixon won anyway by seven-tenths of one percentage point. The Vietnam War didn’t skip a beat, plodding on until Saigon fell on April 30, 1975. By then, Nixon had been forced to abdicate by his own political party, and Gerald Ford continued to steer the ship of state into the iceberg.

Chicago mayor Richard J. Daley, a true-blue Democrat who was almost as powerful as he thought he was, believed the best way to support Humphrey was to dress his police force up in riot gear and beat the shit out of the more than 10,000 protesters who were marching peacefully. I know; I’ve seen just about every minute of television coverage both aired and unaired (I can explain that, but I’m in full-babble mode). Many of us, including myself, were beaten by the police for committing the crime of existing while belligerent. One was killed.

Our well-broadcast chants evolved from “Stop the war” to “The whole world is watching.” The turmoil expanded to the press corps and to the floor of the Democratic National Convention itself where some credentialed reporters and delegates also were harassed, gassed, and beaten.

Well, I don’t do speculative reporting. I think there is little reason to believe it will come down in any similar fashion. It could; fools often hang themselves by their self-righteousness. There will be protesters, but Mayor Brandon Johnson is no Dick Daley. We will see plenty of all sorts of belligerence (not from me; I won’t be going to Chicago for another three weeks), but it’s hard to imagine Johnson allowing the cops to go apeshit.

The most important difference is that most of the likely protesters are not complaining about our direct military involvement in a senseless war that already was lost. MAGA will be there, and many of them have proven to be extremely violent and occasionally murderous. This could be a very big problem. Personally, I wouldn’t march around a city with so many Blacks, Jews, Democrats, and short-tempered decent folk while under the Confederate battle flag.

Other protesters will be out there promoting various Palestinian causes. I’m not certain why they thought Chicago might be a good venue, other than the presence of cameras and smartphones. Candidate Kamala Harris is more sympathetic to them than President Biden has been and much more sympathetic than Republican Trump and his Christian Nationalist goose steppers. If they don’t watch themselves, they can shoot themselves in their proverbial feet.

Then there are the fools who think communism, socialism, fascism (really!), pederasty and the Democratic Party are all the same thing. These people all should be deported to Turkey.

Chicago is a wonderful place with a zillion great restaurants and bars and an unending music scene that can beat the band. Sadly, most DNC attendees will not be able to get into any of them.

Let me offer a bit of advice. If you see a bunch of powder-blue helmets atop a bunch of burly well-padded police officers, I strongly recommend you get on the Blue Line subway and try your luck at O’Hare Field.