"We're a nation under judgment." The woman's statement came off so pat. Irene distanced herself

from the group who were looking at some exhibits, placed in the fire hall's community room - just off from where volunteers were cooking and serving hot dogs, burgers, fries and such.  Among the exhibit, was a photo of a tough looking boy, who appeared to work on a ship - and, evidently, denied his childhood ... let alone, decent wages.  Right alongside, a photo of some baron's wife being assisted as she stepped down from an automobile - the couple, decked in their post gilded age finery, were about to embark upon steps, which had apparently led to some kind of afternoon social event.  The whole set up was to engender class division.  

And it worked.  You betcha..!  And for valid reason, fed by, snooty broads who've nuthin better to do, than go around spouting pat phrases at other women...wives, whose husbands don't make 200k...by snooty-tooties, soon to inherit a goodly amount of acreage from a mother or aunt, with one foot on a banana peel, the other...Irene chided herself to calm it the 'ef down (the slims had side effects - one being irritability).  

The next frame was a news photo of a line of girls and women putting out shoes.  Some looked quite young; one of them could have been Irene's grandmother, who had to leave school at thirteen.  Thing was, gram had loved school, loved books.

It was time to leave.  The parade would soon be starting, and she wanted to check out some of the booths before taking her C15 seat - hopefully, this time, there'd be no drunks/weirdos nearby.   This year's labor day theme, was but a variation of last year's - just the same old diversity line - yep, all about acceptance, that is, as long as you accept Six dogma...which changes on a dime, while remaining the same.  

Buncha Christless bunk...pua!  

She crossed the street toward a booth which appeared to be selling handbags, scarves and such.  A new purse would be nice, the one she was carrying was about shot.  As she approached, she'd changed her mind; half the merchandise had either skulls or fangs - so, that killed any further interest in browsing the other half, which probably had an assortment of trolls, or dragons.  

Whadeverhappened to palmtrees, daisies and kitty cats?  

Two booths down featured candles, but it was too hot, and her purse too small.  The next booth sold music cds, but based on the crowd gathered around and within, there probably wasn't much, if anything, she'd be interested in buying.  Atleast back in her day, metal still had melody, and words; words about life, of thoughts, work, love, regret, rebellion, striving...nowadays, mostly anger, outright blame-gaming and twisted lust...very twisted.

When did things turn so ugly?  Pua! Her mind drifted two-thirds a century back; to seventh grade, that horrible gym suit she had to wear - the one during 8th grade wasn't much better...or was it conditioning, to accept, if not submit to - and eventually embrace - unwomanhood?   Precisely that, was the focus of what passed for much of what was termed "music."   Even people her age bought into...

Holy Hannah!   Irene backed away.  A fight broke out, partially within and without.  Cds flew.  One hit some old guy, the corner drawing blood just above his ear.  He then joined in the foray.   A table fell over, sending more cds and - ew! "toys" in every direction.  A larger table was upended, sending more of the same.  But wood hitting concrete goes boom, but not BBOOMM!!!

But it's too early for fireworks...not far from where irene was walking - and walking fast, a streetfight broke out, between two factions, who she thought got along...well, most of the time.  Evidently, not this time.  People, fleeing the area, began to jostle one another.  More fighting, cursing.  

Where were the police?  

Oh this wasn't good.  Unlike earlier there were no police.  Global troops began moving in.