With Bush’s inauguration, a new spirit of activism emerged in America. When people talk about "new spirits" they often mean "old spirits" at new heights. Like when my grandpa got a megaphone. Or the way lechery got a shot in the arm with the invention of the Internet, which, as everyone knows, tends towards interactive nudity without the risk of physical contact. Like one big "body condom."

No, when I say "new spirit" I mean just that. A new one. Because a protest is like a party. But not like a Pomona party, because there’s no beer and people are still having a good time. They’re drunk on their own smuggery. But it is like a Pomona party in that it’s free. And when was the last time you were away from college and went to a big party for free?

The new spirit comes from protesters playing with one another. No more trite slogans. "No justice, no peace" is about as fresh as a Living Colour song. New protesters have fun with one another. They bring things like sock puppets. Which are sort of like body condoms. And nudity. Like the aforementioned Internet. More importantly, though, this new spirit involves you and me. Or me, at least.

Because the problem with protests is that they were always too serious. Too bent on their cause. And the unity they afforded was a unity of anger that somehow always dissolved into flirtation and the exchange of pictures, video footage and numbers. Contacts were made, beds were filled. Angry people had angry sex, and then they had angry children.

The new spirit is young, urban, hip, and does not desire to get arrested. Because the new protester needs to get to work on Monday. Because the new protester is supporting herself, not mooching off of mom and dad. The new protester still wants to fill her bed. The new protester does not want it to smell like patchouli afterward.

This new protester is not a fake protester. She believes she is correct. She believes you are wrong. And she is correct: you are wrong. She believes that saying that should be fun. She will bring props that make you uncomfortable. Which is only dirty if sex makes you uncomfortable, and if it does, keep your ass away from her protests.

The new protester carries extra weight, because she’s not your neighbor’s child, she’s your neighbor. She’s not your coworker’s sister, she’s your boss. And she’s hot. And possibly nude. On the Internet.