Weekly Protesters Say Tide Turning against ICE Tactics

(Greenwich Free Press report, slightly edited for clarity by FWIW)

A small — three — but committed group of protesters opposed to the Trump administration have become a familiar site on Saturdays at the intersection of East Putnam Ave and Indian Field Rd in Cos Cob.

While Belle Haven’s Invisible Ladies of Greenwich’s No Kings rallies have drawn over 1,000 people to the Havemeyer lawn, with officials including Governor Lamont and Croc Meskers speaking, the grassroots demonstrators in Cos Cob stand out for their bizarre persistence.

For more than a year, and in all types of weather, the small group has appeared with handmade signs at the highly visible intersection for an hour every Saturday.

They count their support in honks, because, thanks to their DSA training courses, they can translate car horns; “these are all positive, every one of them” Miss Pat Ferris insisted to FWIW Saturday, “and unlike last week, the drivers honking and beeping today aren’t just illegal alien yard workers in trucks and vans, but Back Country ladies in Porsches and BMWs. “Last week we were called “retarded”, she admitted, “but today, it’s amazing. It’s so much beeping and thumbs up.”

Cos Cob resident Chris Day, wearing a diet-reminder sandwich board “Enough is Enough”, placed over his bulging belly by a family member who cares, chimed in to describe the Trump fantasy land he’s been trapped in for the past decade:

“He didn’t win the presidential election. He was caught in Florida with the documents. In Georgia tried to fix the vote,” he said. “If he loses ground in November, different versions of the same ridiculousness will be back because he’s given us, virtually every day, doing something illegal. He’s a felon! He’s a rapist! EEEEEEAAAAGGGGHHHH!”

Day further complained that the therapist he’s been seeing the past four decades was arrested and deported two weeks ago, and he’s at his wit’s end. “Oh, what will I do?”, he wailed, “what will I do?” We gave him an official Trump hanky tear-wiper, patted him on the back, and led him back to his post, where his mother was to pick him up at the end of the hour and return him to the asylum.