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The projection of SWAT power here in Tampa is overwhelming. Local estimates put the security collective at well over 1,000 people, meaning there is one officer for every two delegates in the hall. I’ve spotted members of the Secret Service, the National Guard, the Florida state police, the Tampa police, local sheriffs’ offices, and neighboring-county details. Downtown Tampa was in near-lockdown yesterday morning when Kevin and I tried to claim our credentials. We abandoned our cab ten or fifteen blocks away and walked through a major urban downtown almost entirely emptied out of civilians and populated almost exclusively in their stead by riot police in full battle gear—mace, M9s or Sigs, M16s, thigh packs, radio packs, video cameras. Early reports had said there were to be some 15,000 protesters; perhaps they were detained by the hurricane.
Instead, yesterday was a day of heightened tedium. At one point Kevin and I spotted nine or ten anarchist kids marching down the street shouting obscenities about Romney and Obama. The SWAT teams moved in, many shooting video on their cameras. The anarchists live-streamed the commandos filming them. I took pictures of everyone videotaping everyone else. I’m sorry M. C. Escher wasn’t around to capture all the ouroboric fun.
Prior to the convention, the Tampa police sat down with the ACLU and produced a handy book filled with smart tips for eager anarchists who want “to stay safe”:
After milling around for a while, the kids wandered over to a coffee shop where the SWAT team was kicking back, enjoying their venti decaf Americanos and skinny caramel lattés. They offered the protesters some Gatorade, which the kids gratefully accepted, while the rest of us walked off, vaguely disappointed.
More from Jack Hitt:
Political Asylum — November 6, 2012, 2:01 pm
Obama’s data-driven approach may decide today’s race—and determine the future of the G.O.P.
There was no slant to the sun — it was just there, overhead, burning, making him sweat, making his underwear bind and the shirt stick to his back as if it had been glued on, and why he’d ever let Carolee talk him into this he’d never know. The bus lurched. There was a stink of diesel. Gears ratcheted beneath the floorboards, metal on metal, as if they were going to fuse or maybe explode into a thousand pieces at any moment. He looked beyond Carolee, out the window, feeling ever so slightly queasy, though everyone assured him the water was good here — potable, that was the word on everybody’s lips. Plus, the food was held to the highest standards and the glasses out of which they’d sipped their rum punch and rum Cokes and rum tonics had been scrupulously washed in hot sudsing pristine well water, because this wasn’t like Mexico or Guatemala or Belize, this was special, orderly, clean, a kind of tourist paradise. And cheap. Cheap too.
On top of it all, he had a headache. Or the beginnings of one. But that was understandable, because he’d gulped down three rum punches with lunch, so thirsty he could have drained the whole pitcher the waiter had set in the middle of the table, and no, he wasn’t going to drink the water, no matter what anybody said — not unless it came from a bottle with an unbroken seal. He rubbed his eyes. He had aspirin in his kit back on the ship. Cipro too. But that didn’t do him a whole lot of good now, did it? Anonymous streets rolled by, shops, people, dogs, ratty-looking birds infesting the trees and an armed guard outside every store — or tienda, as his guidebook had it — and what did that tell you about the level of orderliness here? Buenos vecinos. Welcome. Mi casa es su casa.
Acreage of a Christian nudist colony under development in Florida:
Florida’s wildlife officials decided to remove the manatee, which has a mild taste that readily adapts to recipes for beef, from the state’s endangered-species list.
A 64-year-old mother and her 44-year-old son were arrested for running a gang that stole more than $100,000 worth of toothbrushes from Publix, Walmart, Walgreens, and CVS stores in Florida.
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“He could be one of a million beach-bound, black-socked Florida retirees, not the man who, by some odd happenstance of life, possesses the brain of Albert Einstein — literally cut it out of the dead scientist's head.”