Wednesday, January 11, 2017

The Great March of the Sisterhood.

Back in 1936 my grandpa Curtis supported the great Jarrow Hunger March. It is worth researching. Hundreds of unemployed miners and shipyard workers marched in protest against working conditions in the mines and factories of the North of England.
They left Jarrow, in Northumberland, on October 5th and arrived at the Houses of Parliament three weeks later to present their petition. 
They were jobless, penniless and, after three hundred miles on the road, some were shoeless. They had good reason to register their anger against a system that had impoverished them and their families.
Fast forward to 2017. The Great Sister March organized by a few dozen disaffected starlets from Hollywood (all millionaires) who want the world to know of their outraged sensibilities and their violated woman-hood because of the election of Donald Trump.
Not that any of the afore-mentioned has had a finger laid upon them by Trump and his team. Not at all. But that is not the point.
This splendid spectacle of the cosseted, the beautiful, the spoiled, the adored and the privileged are just plain mad that Hilary Clinton didn't make it to the White House and, by golly, they are going to let everybody know. This grand parade will be a little short of three hundred miles. Actually it will be half the length of Pennsylvania Avenue ( about the distance that their spiked heels and tight skirts will allow). Nor will there be any sleeping out in the open air for the cause.
After their speeches and autograph signings it will off to spend the night in a five star hotel and then back to Tinsel Land with a story of their utmost sacrifice to pass on to their progeny.
Such is the world that we live in 80 years after Jarrow.



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