So I’ve started a political movement.
Because apparently retirement wasn’t stressful enough.
Most guys retire and buy a fishing boat.
I formed an LLC.
I’m 69 years old. I should be yelling at somebody about my property taxes.
Instead I’m walking around Greensboro going:
“WHO WANTS DEMOCRACY?!”
People are locking their doors.
But I’ve been talking about turning spectators into citizens, and I realized eventually you’ve got to actually demonstrate this shit.
So I came up with an idea.
I want Greensboro to have a giant community block party.
Music. Food. People meeting each other. Talking to strangers.
Basically everything Americans used to do before we got phones.
Remember talking to strangers?
We used to do that!
You’d sit next to somebody at a bar and say:
“Where you from?”
Now you sit next to somebody and stare at your phone for 45 minutes while wondering:
“Who the fuck is this guy?”
So Tuesday night I’m going before the mayor and City Council to pitch my idea.
And today I’m doing the groundwork.
Because I spent 42 years in business.
And if there’s one thing I learned in 42 years, it’s:
Never walk into a meeting cold.
You’ve got to soften them up first.
So I sent emails.
I designed a poster.
Then today I physically went to City Hall and dropped off a copy for every council member and the mayor.
I’m basically lobbying.
Except apparently I’m the only lobbyist in America who isn’t carrying a check.
I’m carrying a poster.
“Hello, Councilman. I’d like to influence your vote. Here’s some cardstock.”
That’s the Truth Party Super PAC.
Office Depot.
I walked into City Hall with these posters like I’m running for student council.
“FREE PIZZA IF JOHN WINS!”
And Destiny at the city clerk’s office is helping me distribute them.
God bless Destiny.
Because somewhere tonight a council member is going to open their paperwork and find this psychedelic block-party poster.
And they’re going to say:
“Who the hell is John Eagleton?”
And somebody’s going to say:
“You’ll meet him Tuesday.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
That’s exactly what I want.
I want them talking.
Because Tuesday night I walk in and hopefully somebody recognizes me:
“Oh yeah! You’re the block-party guy!”
YES!
That’s me!
You don’t even have to know my name.
Block-Party Guy is fine.
I’ve been called worse.
Now, I don’t know how City Council is going to respond.
Maybe they’ll love it.
Maybe they’ll say:
“Mr. Eagleton, this is exactly the kind of community-building initiative Greensboro needs.”
Or maybe they’ll give me the government version of:
“That’s interesting.”
You know what “that’s interesting” means.
You’ve heard it from your spouse.
“Honey, I’m thinking about growing a ponytail.”
“That’s interesting.”
You’re not growing a fucking ponytail.
Government has its own language.
“We’ll take that under consideration.”
Dead.
“We’ll refer that to staff.”
Very dead.
“We appreciate your engagement.”
Call the funeral home.
But here’s the thing:
I don’t really care.
Obviously I want them to say yes.
I want the party.
I want thousands of people downtown.
I want music.
I want people dancing.
I want Democrats talking to Republicans.
I want old people talking to young people.
I want people meeting somebody who doesn’t look anything like them and discovering:
“Holy shit. You’re actually pretty normal.”
That’s the dream.
But even if they say no, I still did the important part.
I showed up.
And that’s what I’ve been preaching.
We’ve become a country of professional complainers.
We sit home watching television:
“Congress is terrible!”
Okay.
What did you do?
“I posted something on Facebook.”
Oh!
Thank God!
Thomas Jefferson would be so proud.
“We hold these truths to be self-evident…”
SHARE. LIKE. SUBSCRIBE.
Democracy saved.
And I’m guilty of it too.
It’s incredibly easy to complain.
Actually participating is inconvenient.
You’ve got to write an email.
You’ve got to leave your house.
You’ve got to find parking.
You’ve got to go through security.
You’ve got to sit through a meeting.
And eventually somebody gives you three minutes at a microphone.
Three minutes!
I’ve been talking for five minutes already.
City Council would’ve shut my ass down two minutes ago.
“Mr. Eagleton, your time has expired.”
My time has expired?
I’m 69!
Don’t say that to me!
Could you phrase that differently?
“Mr. Eagleton, your presentation period has concluded.”
Much better.
I have plans Wednesday.
But that’s citizenship.
Citizenship isn’t watching.
Citizenship isn’t complaining.
Citizenship isn’t waiting for somebody else to fix everything.
Sometimes citizenship is incredibly boring.
Sometimes it’s an email.
Sometimes it’s a poster.
Sometimes it’s standing at a microphone while nine people stare at you thinking:
“Who let the block-party guy back in?”
And you know what?
I’m okay with that.
Because if I want other people to become citizens again, I’ve got to do it myself.
So Tuesday night I’m going to City Hall.
I’ve sent the emails.
I’ve delivered the posters.
I’ve done the homework.
Now there’s only one thing left to do.
Show up.
And if City Council approves my block party?
Fantastic.
We’re throwing a party.
And if they don’t?
Well…
I’ve already got the posters.
So this shit is getting complicated.
PS: If the city says no, I’ll pay and pull permits!
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