Undisclosed no more: Now that the electricity and phone lines are back up, I can forward this short missive from ground zero. That's right, I'm at City Hall, Philadelphia, where Police estimate anywhere from 50-60 people have shown up to protest the War in...well, wherever it is that the hegemony of the U.S. is occurring right now. It seems clear that the majority of the protesters are against war of any type, while a small faction seem to object to "war for oil," and at least one person was assured there would be sandwiches, and damnit, where are the sandwiches? The police seem to out-number the protesters, but that hasn't stopped me from strapping on the kevlar lest one of the anti-violence demonstrators try to kick my ass for the small U.S. flag that has been sewn onto the inside of my t-shirt tag ("These colors don't run [provided you use cold water].") Anyway, I managed to briefly infiltrate the tightly wrapped security of the perimeter of the group in order see what sort of internal agenda was behind the facade of war-protesting. It seems that several scruffy-faced young men were debating how to best approach the cute hemp-wearing girl with bullhorn (apparently some sort of cell organizer), and whether she'd like the tofu or seitan version of mock chicken curry at the vegetarian restaurant they're hoping to invite her too after, you know "this scene". Ahhh, code. I'll apply encryption software to it when I get back. Moving on I found another small knot of operatives discussing the merits of skipping tomorrow's lecture in Psych for the "rally" at the Liberty Bell. Note to self: stay away from Liberty Bell tomorrow. Anyway, they soon started singing some sort of spiritual they said Moby had written, and with that, I was away...like the wind.