Code Pink came to town (Miami, that is) again yesterday. Again they were met by counterprotestors, again they took to their heels, and again they whined that their rights were being trampled. I'm not sure what the ladies had in mind, other than gathering publicity, since Posada Carriles, the "terrorist" they want sent back to face Castroite brand of justice (that's the one where they shoot first and never ask questions) has been tried twice in Venezuela for the crime of which they accuse him.
To my mind, this picture from Abajo Fidel says it all. The young man waves the legs he lost in his dogged and relentless quest for freedom from a terrorist state in a visual denunciation of the pink spandex performance art. Now that's a protest, or as my mother would say, "una galleta sin mano."