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The prewar protest rallies have more the flavor
of a Saturday afternoon excursion than a heartfelt cry of murder
and mayhem. This afternoon, I picked up three, no four, erstwhile
demonstrators who had gotten off at the wrong starting point -
taking a taxi ride to the actual protest at Civic Center, with a
buxom T-shirted smiling girl sitting in the middle of the back seat.
The white cardboard placard she gallantly hoisted clambering out
of the taxi beneath fair skies of cumulus mediocris, proclaiming,
"It's Time to Stop the War!" simultaneously suggested,
"Tits Time to Stop the War!"
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