Part 2: Civil Discourse in the Streets – Protests, Pirate Radio, and Public Debate
By Ryan “Dickie” Thompson
Introduction
If Part 1 was about Steven Crowder and Charlie Kirk, Part 2 is about me.
Not because my story is more important, but because it proves the same point: civil discourse is dangerous, but necessary.
Before I ever wrote a word on this site, before podcasts were popular, before YouTube turned into a battleground for speech, I was already out there with a mic. I was on the streets, on pirate radio, and eventually on YouTube, talking with people who didn’t always see things my way.
I’ve gone out on tax day protests, stood outside drug courts, and hosted radio call-ins with people who ranged from libertarian purists to die-hard statists. I’ve interviewed activists, politicians, and everyday people with stories to tell.
And I’ve done all of it with one principle in mind: civil dialogue is better than violence.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy. Sometimes it’s hostile. Sometimes you leave more frustrated than when you started. But it’s still better than rocks, Molotov cocktails, or bullets.
In this installment, I’ll share how those experiences shaped me, how they connect to the current climate of political violence, and why I keep pushing for dialogue even when it’s unpopular.
Protests and the Streets
Let’s start with the protests.
If you want to understand America’s pulse, don’t watch cable news. Don’t scroll Twitter. Go to the courthouse on tax day. Walk through a drug court lobby. Stand outside city hall during a public protest.
That’s what I did.
I brought my camera, my mic, and sometimes just a notebook. And I asked people why they were there. Some were angry about taxes. Some were furious about government overreach. Others showed up to defend government programs.
I didn’t go to preach. I went to ask. And I learned something: people are more willing to talk than you think.
I once asked a man at a tax protest if he thought taxation was theft. He said no—it was “the price we pay for civilization.” That’s the cliché line. But when I pushed him gently—“what happens if I refuse to pay?”—he paused. He admitted that the government would eventually take his property or throw him in jail. That moment of honesty cracked open a conversation he’d probably never had before.
It didn’t mean he changed his mind right there. But it planted a seed. And more importantly, it proved something: civil conversation forces people to think.
Now compare that to what we see today: when leftist mobs burn down buildings, loot stores, or assault political opponents, nobody learns anything. Everyone just digs in deeper. The violence justifies the other side’s worst fears.
That’s why I keep showing up. Because dialogue works where force fails.
Drug Court and Hard Conversations
Drug court was another arena where I learned the value of civil discourse.
Here were people whose lives had been torn apart by addiction and by the justice system. Some of them saw the court as salvation. Others saw it as just another cage.
I would sit and talk with people—sometimes before hearings, sometimes after. And what struck me most was how differently people viewed the same experience.
One man told me that drug court saved his life, because it forced him into rehab. Another told me it destroyed his life, because it robbed him of his freedom while doing nothing to cure his addiction.
Both were right, in their own ways. And that’s the kind of complexity you never hear in political talking points.
The war on drugs is one of the clearest examples of how government violence replaces dialogue. Instead of sitting down and asking why people use drugs, we send in SWAT teams. Instead of debating medical approaches, we fill prisons.
If we had more civil discourse about addiction, we wouldn’t have needed drug court in the first place.
Pirate Radio: Free Speech Without Permission
Before podcasts were a thing, I was on pirate radio.
That wasn’t about money or fame. It was about bypassing gatekeepers. It was about free speech without asking permission from the FCC, advertisers, or corporate suits.
On pirate radio, the conversations were raw. People called in with unfiltered opinions. Sometimes I agreed. Sometimes I strongly disagreed. But the point wasn’t to agree. The point was to talk.
And those conversations mattered. When someone called in to defend big government, I didn’t mute them. I challenged them. I asked questions. I gave them space to speak.
Compare that to what we see today: tech companies censoring speech, governments pressuring platforms, mobs calling for deplatforming. Pirate radio proved that dialogue can survive without gatekeepers—and that’s why I carried the same spirit into YouTube.
YouTube: Protest, Debate, and Open Forums
My YouTube channels—@xcannabiscom, @utahpirateradio, and @slu2com—became my way to keep that ethos alive.
Search “protest” or “radio show” on my channel, and you’ll find countless examples of me putting the mic in front of people who disagreed with me. Not dunking on them. Not clipping them for clickbait. Just real conversations.
That’s the same spirit Crowder tapped into with Change My Mind. And it’s the same spirit Charlie Kirk embodied before his assassination.
We don’t have to agree. But we do have to talk.
Civil Discourse vs. Political Violence
Here’s the contrast I want people to understand.
When I go to a protest and talk to someone about taxes, nobody gets hurt. When I sit down in a drug court lobby and interview someone about addiction, nobody dies. When I host a call-in radio show, nobody ends up in the hospital.
But when extremists decide that talking is no longer enough, the result is bloodshed.
Charlie Kirk was murdered for talking. Steven Crowder had to armor up for talking. I’ve been threatened for talking.
So the question is simple: do we want a society where disagreements are solved with dialogue, or with violence?
History shows us what happens when dialogue collapses. The French Revolution. The Bolshevik Revolution. Mao’s Cultural Revolution. All fueled by the belief that opponents didn’t deserve conversation—only elimination.
That’s where America is heading if we don’t recommit to civil discourse.
Why I Keep Going
Some people ask me why I bother. Why risk it? Why keep putting myself out there in hostile environments?
My answer is simple: because it works.
I’ve seen minds change. Not always instantly. Not always dramatically. But enough to know it matters.
I’ve had people write me months later, saying our conversation made them rethink an issue. I’ve had former opponents become allies. I’ve even had people who hated my guts admit, grudgingly, that they respected my willingness to talk.
That’s enough for me. Because every mind changed through dialogue is one less body lost to violence.
Conclusion
I’ve lived it. And I’ll keep living it.
Because the choice is simple: civil dialogue, or civil war.
Coming Next in the Series
- Part 3: Why Free Speech is Worth Fighting For—Even When It Hurts
A deep dive into why free speech is under attack, why censorship fuels violence, and why defending speech—even offensive speech—is the only way to keep a free society alive.
