I spent some time at the HM's office today, trying to clear up a direct mail print job that's now weeks behind schedule. (It does become kind of obvious that the text was written about a month ago when it fails to mention the ongoing new developments of this week. Anyhow, not my fault, and now I get to save the day by riding in to finish it in Scotty-like miracle-worker time, so huzzah.) On the way back - in the pouring rain, admittedly, so I didn't hang around examining the scene carefully - I ran into a protest on Bank and Queen. For the life of me, I don't know what they were protesting. The signs I saw just demanded "Justice," and condemned "Injustice." (There was a charming sign with a painted bloody handprint, too.)
If there was any indication of for whom or what justice was necessary, I didn't see it. That's kind of missing the point of public demonstration, isn't it? You may as well carry a sign saying PUPPIES ARE NICE or WE LIKE ICE CREAM, for all the impact generically being in favour of justice will have.
(Of course, if they had one small sign that actually explained the direction of their ire, I retract everything.)