Friday, September 26, 2008
Call Gregoire: (360) 902-4111
My phone was set for seven to get the girls off to kindergarten, but they're their own alarm. I heard their voices before I saw them. They were on the move and had me surrounded. I was about to retaliate by unleashing the tummy tickle when the phone went off. It was the real ring, which sounds sort of like an east Indian techno samba. It was Scott Morrow at 6:45.
"Is 'it going down,'" I asked?
"The cops aren't here yet, but we've split the camp in two. Half of it's where we were, on WashDoT land, and the rest is in the parking lot, which is owned by the state. The parking lot has never been posted for campsite removal."
"Scott, you're a fucking genius."
"We need you to tell people to call the Governor to ask that the state not violate it's own new policies by clearing a camp without notification."
"OK. But right now, I need to get my kids to school. I won't be able to do much for a couple of hours.
"I understand my friend. Whatever you can do."
"Alright man. Good luck."
So, for what it's worth, there it is.