Rep. Joe Wilson (R-SC) shows off a photograph of himself and Congressional buddies John Shimkus (R-IL) and Bob Latta (R-OH) standing in front of a large tire with their Canadian minder, Cal Dallas (Conservative Party).

The size of the tire shows that oil sands operations are safe and environmentally friendly. The Canadians are great with technology. Never mind that they don’t seem to know how to remove a date stamp from a photo.

Oh, and Rep. Shimkus has a great understanding of environmental forces. He seems to be one of the few in Congress who understands that we shouldn’t worry too much about global warming because God promised Noah that the world wouldn’t end in a flood.

We’re in good hands here. Suddenly, though, the shoes they’re wearing seem oddly appropriate…

UPDATE: See Rep. Wilson’s entire halting speech.

Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R-AK) discussing Alaska’s coming plans to superimpose itself on the continental United States.

As to who owns Alaska, the Captain is pretty sure that the majority stake is Sarah Palin’s ego.

Sen. John Hoeven (R-ND) displays a mock-up of the North Dakota Heritage Center Expansion, which recycles coal ash as a building material. Note the mock-up’s attention to detail, from the delicate colors of the leaves turning on the trees to the extreme whiteness of the people who will patronize the Center.

Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) is either grumpy about transportation earmarks, or it’s show and tell and he’s brought in a picture of his pet rock.

Why is Senator Michael Bennet (D-CO) sporting an impish smile? It’s because he just won the inaugural Poster of the Day Award. Behind him you will find his masterwork, providing much-needed perspective to Congress’s historically low approval rating.

He’s included comparisons to approval ratings for such whimsical points of reference as lawyers, Paris Hilton, and, of course, US Going Communist (Congress ranked lower than all three). For bringing levity to the abject state of Congress, and for having a fairly readable placard (which counts as placard excellence in the US Senate), Senator Bennet has attained the highest honor (to date) bestowed upon poster presenters by yours truly.

Three quick things:

1. That placard is just about ready to fall off of that easel. Show some respect, Senator Maria Cantwell (D-WA), and center your visual aid properly.

2. Use of space. I know I’ve talked about this before, but a placard is a sacred object, and should not be used merely to denote the topic about which you are speaking. Everyone else is speaking about the same thing; I’m sure they’ll understand what you’re saying.

3. You’re clearly not paying your aide enough to look like anything but a zombie. Seriously, normally I’d attribute his undead stare to his unhappiness with the poster, but it’s just so incredibly dour that I fear that he’s worrying about whether or not he has enough money to take the metro home to his hovel.

Oh and by the way…the Captain’s back!

Sen. Jim Inhofe (R-OK) plays fast and loose with the alphabet. Perhaps he thinks the alphabet is the second-greatest hoax ever perpetrated on the American people.

When you last left your intrepid adventurer, I was making my way from the gentle, sweet-tempered West Lawn to the treacherous grasslands of the South Lawn. I strode confidently—but with some hidden trepidation—into the heart of the lawn of iniquity, my valiant heart beating faster at the bevy of signage I was sure must await me. No more tee ball (tea ball?) protesting; I’d been promised the big leagues. I was not disappointed.

The standards! The banners! The maddening crowd! This was the serious stuff! The West Lawn had certainly given me a buzz, but the South Lawn had completely besotted me with its profusion of pennants. In the distance I could just make out some of the many posters that had been so lovingly crafted by their creators. I felt a slight arrhythmia (temporary, mind you) brought on by the anticipation of reading their works.

I sidled closer, hoping not to attract attention despite my wide eyes and sweaty palms. Suddenly, I was surrounded by demands and exhortations, all written or typed in large fonts on the sturdy backing of poster board or some other such hearty substance. With flags waving about, framing these 28” x 22” rectangles of liberty, I drank in the sights:

The Good

This couple attends to the important business of elucidating the causes, organizational structure, and historical import of the rally for satellite television subscribers in Poland.

But not all who came out in costume were playing make believe. I ran into a couple of doctors, one sporting her white coat, another simply draping himself in the practical symbol of the profession:

Stethoscope: mark of the serious physician. Kudos also to this gentleman for the most immaculately trimmed beard I’d seen in some time and for the most disproportionately large dot on an exclamation point I’ve ever seen. I guess he really didn’t want to put too fine a point on it…

The signs, however, quickly drew me away from the costumes. These weren’t your everyday signs. These were signs that made you think. That made you reexamine. That made you wonder…what exactly was on the other side of the sign…

Will what?! Will what?!? Alas, the gentleman never flipped the sign around and I was soon scoping out other signage. And no sign was more hip to the zeitgeist of the 90s than this gem:

Washington, DC’s equivalent of celebrities made their brief entrances to and exits from the fray, including Representative Peter King (R-NY). Sadly the camera does not love Rep. King.

The lack of love from the camera is not of Pete King’s making, though. I simply had the camera set to “Signage,” and true to form, the police insignia is crystal clear.

And lest you think the signs were one-sided, have a gander at this:

The Bad

Unfortunately, not every sign was up to the standards that the day and the event demanded. It’s only fair, in any outing such as this, to give an honest depiction of the event, and it is to this end that I supply some representative samples of some of the failed signs:

A nation devided cannot stand.

The M•Peach. Best of all possible peaches.

Sadly, Godwin’s Law fared all too well here, though I suppose I should take heart that no one seems to be laying claim to the sign.

The Ugly

Throughout my time at the Capitol, giddily taking pictures of the pastime I was born to document, there were scenes of intimidation and hostility. This behavior does not suit a man of my rank and upbringing, and so I did not partake in these base displays of naked aggression. Instead, I endeavored to soothe tempers and calm nerves, to remind people that what this is really about, when it all comes down to it, is the signs.

Not all people acquiesced readily to my presence as an avowed pro-sign advocate. A man approached me and asked me what side I was on. I told him I was there taking pictures. He asked me again what side I was on. I told him I was on no one’s side. He told me that if I wasn’t on his side, I needed to leave, because this was their protest. This entire time, he was far closer than he needed to be to be heard, and a constant scowl was on his face. Opaque sunglasses covered his ocular cavities, making it impossible to see the man’s eyes. Still, I got the impression that he wasn’t happy with me. After it became clear that I wasn’t going to slink off at his bluster, he scowled and walked off.

Most people I met that day were willing—and sometimes eager—to have a discussion about signs and the issues. Some did so a tad shrilly and dismissively, to be sure, but they were merely rude, not threatening. Not so for this gentleman. I didn’t intend to photograph him, and had no reason to, he being signless. However, while perusing the photos I’d taken, I noticed his hunched figure in a crowd shot. Of the signs I showed, the misspellings happen, the Hitler references are inevitable (and so overused as to be completely devoid of any shock value whatsoever), and most of the signs are just predictable hyperbole. This man, on the other hand, tried to expel me from public land through intimidation. The Captain is not pleased, sir. Your actions did not become you.

Trust me. He looked more menacing head on.

Post-mortem

What an amazing day it was. In addition to all the signage, I had an hour and a half verbal sparring session with another gent, where I was aided in my task by a Chief Petty Officer of signage who responded to the challenge of accompanying your humble servant on his quest to document and revel in the profusion of signs. This post, in all its extravagant length and meander.

After months of reflection and analysis of his harrowing (and fascinating) experience at a health care Tea Party protest, the Captain is finally able and willing to recount his tale.

As those of you who’ve been following along know, the Captain’s semiotic appetite was whetted when he came across several souls traveling on government-subsidized transit to protest government spending.

The Captain heard whispers of a massive gathering of posters, placards and signage taking place at the United States Capitol the following day. Encountering these fellow lovers of banners, standards, and insignia was a sign of its own, and your humble Captain was drawn to the siren call of the poster board like an untethered Odysseus.

The Captain Journeys Forth

The morning was spent excitedly preparing for the day ahead. On such a momentous occasion, my traditional breakfast of Cap’n Crunch would not suffice. I supplemented it with Chex, hoping to channel the power of that warrior hero of bygone years, the legendary Chex Warrior. The day was balmy and clear. Perfect poster weather.

I decided to again take public transit in hopes of seeing more high quality posters. However, what I found was far more impressive. Sadly I don’t have photographic evidence of it, but I vividly remember the imposing man (and when the Captain calls a man imposing, the man is imposing) wearing an American flag wrapped around his neck and draped down his torso and a Salvadoran flag draped down his back like a cape. “How does this signify displeasure with health care?” My question was soon to be answered.

“My my,” I thought. “What readable but drab signage you have. This is a good appetizer, but I hope the main course is more varied.” I looked around, worrying that I’d picked the wrong day for more anti-health care signage, the exemplars of which had been thus far very impressive. Looking forward, all I saw was a large crowd for the immigration rally. The rally looked pleasant, but I looked out over a dearth of interesting posters.

I wondered aloud whether perhaps I’d gotten my information wrong. Perhaps there was no health care protest today! But that made no sense. A Captain is diligent in his scheduling, and the Captain was well aware that the vote was scheduled for that evening. I ventured on towards the Capitol, wondering what awaited me.

As I trudged on down the dusty dirt road towards the majestic dome of the Capitol building, I saw my first shimmer of anti-health care signage. Masterfully mounted on the bed of a pickup, a banner featuring a traffic sign. Now very little gives the Captain a thrill like metasignage, but my respect for signage made me question the safety of driving around on a street with a road sign on your car. The Captain is nothing if not lawful, and will research relevant law in the name of justice and clear, efficient signage.

Heartened by the sight, I hastened towards a small group of people mulling about on the west lawn of the Capitol. “Surely they can tell me where the protest is,” I mumbled commandingly (yes, even the Captain’s mumbles are commanding). As I approached, I was elated to discover a smattering of posters across the lawn. Certainly there were some exciting ones here, despite the paucity of the populace.

I was not disappointed.

The West Lawn “Kiddie Pool Tea” Party Protest

The Captain is a family man, so it pleased him no end that this father was passing on the fine art of crafting plucky, homemade signage to his son. I asked these fine folks when the protest was and where everyone was hanging out, and the father politely informed me that the south lawn was where all the raucous protesting was going on. I asked him if he was keeping his son in the “kiddie pool,” so to speak, away from the most heated vitriol, and he smiled and said yes. I failed to ask about the peculiar use of quotes and the lack of a comma somewhere between “lie” and “sir.” The lad is yet young and is learning his way through the ins and outs of signage. Being taken to task by Captain Placard himself might have stunted this young fellow’s signmaking enthusiasm.

I moved on to sample more from this cornucopia of poster-based political speech.

The Captain appreciates the penmanship on this placard very much. Placard penmanship is often dismal, so it pleases the Captain greatly that this man is carrying the standard (literally) of proper signage script. Just look at the tails on the a’s in “Obama.” Exquisite.

This gentleman wins the Captain’s award for best signwielding apparatus. The workmanship and craft of this device, the flags accentuating the highest peaks, the sign billowing like a sail on the Santa Maria… This is truly a monument to signery. Who can blame a man with such a sign for collapsing (into a sitting position) under the pure grandeur of the thing.

I suppose it’s not really this poor fellow’s fault, but I think his sign has a typo. I think this is what he was going for:

Brilliant viral marketing if he’d gotten the name right. So close. Maybe they changed the name in post.

These signs were enough to really get my heart pumping, and I could feel my pupils dilate in anticipation of what gems the more raucous south lawn held. The Captain is a firm believer that raucousness and placards have a positive monotonic relationship.

In our next installment, your loyal Captain braves the Capitol’s treacherous South Lawn.

While the Captain is most accustomed to getting his signage fix from the comfort of his own home, something occurred this past weekend that made him leave his traditional C-SPAN monitoring post for a time and venture out of doors. Lured by lofty promises of sunshine and balmy temperatures on Saturday, the Captain—his soul full of trepidation—lurked apprehensively out of his den and into the world.

His fear of being bereft of signs for the foreseeable future was misplaced, however. Upon passing through the very doors that the Metro is always going on about opening, he was greeted by this beautiful sight:

Your humble servant immediately felt more at ease. But this was nothing compared to the fervent joy felt when scanning the surroundings to find:

Look at the craftsmanship. Examine the subtle texture of the fill pattern, the bold font, the strong yet not obnoxious color palette. And don’t even get me started on the quietly subversive pun at the center of it. It is, in short, a fine example of a protest sign.

I knew then that I needed more. I wanted to approach the gentleman next to her and ask him to unravel his sign, but I was with an impressionable Ensign (pun fully intended), and the Captain cannot afford to show ebullience or a lack of poise in front of his subordinates.

I went about my day, enjoyed the weather as much as I could, but vowed I would soon seek out the destination of that brilliant sign, to find others like it, and to bask in the light of a thousand signs.

To be continued…