Before I opposed the Occupy Wall Street movement, I went down to the local encampment to meet the resident protesters. I had no preconceptions and I am usually not inclined to generalize. However, this group was uniformly unhygenic, unshaven, and very close knit.
By "close knit," I mean that these dirty people are having a lot of sex. This is the dirty secret the Occupiers don't want the media to see. The two individuals that showed me around the camp were male, bearded, and both wore colorful, homemade kilts. As we conversed, I witnessed a nearby Occupier urinating in some evergreen bushes. I was about to voice a complaint when one of my guides said,"...Well, when you gotta go, you gotta go..."
They offered me food in the form of stale, crusty bagels donated from the coffee shop across the street. As I sifted through the box in search of something edible, one of two Occupiers asked me if I was a "dom." I asked him what that meant. It was explained to me that it was a sexual slang term for a dominant, whip wielding person who can sexually dominate "subs" or "submissives."
Having made it clear that I was not familiar with the concept, I nonetheless pressed them for an answer as to why me. After all, there is nothing about my person which would indicate a sadistic or domineering nature (I'm a 120lb weaking). It was to be, they informed me, a part of a protest in which a domineering man dressed as a "CEO" would whip around other protesters dressed as "exploited employees."
I pleasantly excused myself at that point, and offered the camp the use of my shower, leaving them with a made up telephone number and an empty promise to return with my "CEO" costume. My experience with the Occupiers that morning is the reason why the pubic lice outbreak at Occupy Portland failed to shock me:
