March For Our Lives

When I look at both signs, I get the same feeling. Outrage brings us together but expression is joy. Marching is God’s Mosh Pit.

They were sitting on the steps, resting their feet. I plopped down in front of them, asking if I could take their picture. I made them laugh. It underscored the heart of what they were trying to say.

He flexed. I said, “Bet you’ve never done that pose before.” The woman walking down the street turned around to laugh.

Look at this family. How can you not be moved?

One thing you can be sure of when there’s a school shooting: the shooter will be male. We should amend the constitution giving only women the right to bear arms. I’d like to see Dana Loesch break that news to Ted Nugent.


Jordan Klepper was mining the march for comedy gold. At first I was offended. Then I had to admit I was jealous. He’s reacting. This is how Jordan Klepper is processing the moment. I’m sure some will laugh. I’m sure some will be outraged. So what? He showed up and nothing else matters.

After I took the picture, she asked if I had any money. I didn’t. I really didn’t. But I felt bad. If you ever see her on the streets of Washington DC, please give her all the money in your pocket and send me the bill. Thanks.

There was so much creativity at the march, I found myself running from one side of Pennsylvania Avenue to the other, trying to catch as much of it as I could.

The march was over. I was standing on the corner, Ubering. But I kept getting pulled in by the gorgeousness.

I was almost too shy to ask. They were so precious. I let them walk on by. Then I doubled back and asked if I could take their picture. “Of course,” they said.

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