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Pensacola’s FAFO Charlie Kirk Memorial Moment – HotAir

Besides our sugar sand beaches (which, as I explained once before, are actually crushed crystal vice silica, so they act as a huge space beacon for calling in every weirdo on the planet), Pensacola has some manmade landmarks that are notable, historic, and, depending on your taste, well worth at least driving by at least once.





One of these isn’t a 17th-century fort or world-class aviation museum, although it is nestled right up to where Bayou Texar meets Pensacola Bay, so the scenery is pretty spectacular. 

It’s a humble railroad trestle that sits astride the southern portion of 17th Avenue, which is still owned and used by the CSX Transportation Company. Trains roll over it regularly. 

It’s famous for two things. 

As the base of 17th is in a dip coming off of one of Pensacola’s pretty steep inclines, the trestle appears to be much taller than it is. And regardless of the size of the warning signs, complete with flashing lights, it only has ten feet, eight inches of clearance?

By God, the bridge claims victim after victim, and literally truck scalp after scalp.

YUP – GOT ANOTHER ONE

The other thing the little trestle that can is known for is also how it got its name – The Graffiti Bridge.

What started out as a random wall of bored taggers’ unsightly scribbles gradually morphed over the years to sometimes elaborate messages and murals painted within a day and often gone just as quickly.

As dangerous as it is with active CSX freight trains roaring out of town over it, the entire trestle – from roadway to concrete guardrails along the narrow tracks – is covered with layers of paint from decades of thoughts, artistic expression, and just gibberish – all celebrated as part of a living exhibit that is the bridge’s spirit.





There are local artists who have become go-to fellows for commissioned works on the bridge, and the guy seen in this little short is one of them. He’s known as Rodman. This video also gives you a great idea of how claustrophobic the whole trestle area is. Yet, it’s covered head-to-pavement with everything from gibberish to graduation wishes from proud parents. And all will be covered with more graffiti – or completely – within days. Just memories.

This past weekend, Rodman was asked to paint a Charlie Kirk memorial on the largest, south-facing wall. Knowing Pensacola has its share of volatile elements, he said he was initially hesitant because he was worried about violence breaking out at the vigil that was planned around it for Sunday evening, but finally agreed to do it.

It seemed like the right thing to do.

Rodman got it finished in the nick of time, and folks who were going to attend Sunday’s vigil weren’t going to take any chances.

The wall got awfully popular as word of it spread.





As evening approached, the crowd grew on both sides of the popular landmark, and it looked like almost everyone had candles in hand. There’s a large boat launch right in the same area, so parking was ample, thank goodness.

Artist Rodman was in attendance as well, which turned out to be a good thing, as what he had feared came to pass. 

A vandal popped out of the crowd with his own can of spray paint and went straight for Kirk’s face.

Let’s just say they snatched the miscreant up before he could do any serious damage, and maced the crap out of him for good measure.

In the meantime, Rodman fixed the damage, and the vigil went on (It included a prayer for Minnesota’s murdered Melissa Hortman and her family).

…This is a spot that’s typically used for BLM or anti-Trump rallies.

Tonight, a beautiful mural for Charlie was created by an artist named Rod Man, who was there with Sweet Marie. People were lined up to take pictures and pay their respects.

While this was happening, a young man wearing an “F Trump” hat ran over with a can of spray paint and defiled the mural.

I’m not sure what he thought was going to happen. Maybe he expected the reaction—but he was jumped almost immediately.

I’ve heard different accounts: some say he was pepper sprayed, others say punched. I was right there, but the crowd swarmed and people started screaming.

It ended quickly. He was pulled away, and police were right there. He was walking at first, then started to collapse. I don’t know if it was from actual injuries or if he was being dramatic.

The artist was there and he quickly fixed the mural and the Vigil continued. The night was full of faith, prayer, and remembrance for an amazing man. 





That was the last time anyone saw the mural unscathed. In the same place, on the same wall, where a George Floyd mural sat untouched for weeks.

Our local Antifa delinquents were busy in the middle of the night and came out like the pestilential underclass of cockroaches they are. By dawn, the mural had been defaced with the most revolting epithets and vile scrawlings imaginable.

‘Defaced’ is one thing – that’s what the bridge is all about. But the sheer volume of hate-spew was something else entirely, and that wasn’t going to be allowed to stand.

Paint works both ways.

Gallons of white paint had already begun erasing the utter depravity scrawled across the wall, preventing little eyes from being assaulted as well.

And by last night, the messages had gone from darkness to light.

That’s how it’s done.


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