Today as I meandered my way through the Dallas Arts District on my way to the office, I happened upon slight idealogical scuffle. On one side, the meager Occupy faithful, decrying the evils of corporate greed and big oil. On the other, a menagerie of geriatric adults, dressed to the T in tuxedoes and boas, flourishing humorously large cigars and champagne flutes while chanting “It’s a class war and we’re winning” and “Fracking for your own good, get a job or two!” with obvious amusement. Their signs, bearing such phrases as “Global warming=better tans” and “Clean air is a quaint idea” blew about in the breeze as the scruffy crowd opposite chanted “We don’t need the bourgeois” through well-used magaphones. The bike-mounted police milled about unconcerned. One complimented me on my ride as he peddled past, heading for a vacant park bench. I soon followed his lead, leaving the chanting in the distance, slightly disconcerted by what was either a tasteless jest or an ineffective attempt at satire. It just seemed like everyone was having a bit too much fun.