Sunday, March 13, 2005
 

This 'n' That

Nigelblog!

Bob Iger is now head of Disney (aka The Evil Empire). I get to show off because he slept in my bed once. Not while I was in it, that is. My aunt, late of NYC, was friends with his wife, and they were here in Armpitville for said aunt's wedding. Dang, how 'bout that? Toaster suggests we sell the bed on eBay. I can't picture anyone actually wanting it, though I don't like the bed (and never have, except that when I was a kid, the horizontal board at the foot made an excellent balance beam). I like antiques, and I like to use antiques in a house (bookcases, dressers, my new dressing table, etc), but this one is a big creaky and squeaky for my tastes.

National Anthem article. I don't particularly care who knows the words and who doesn't. All I can say is I personally learned 'em in the high-class atmosphere of Armpitville High football games, which I attended all through my youth. Some say the last words are "Gentlemen, start your engines." My civilized, enlightened upbringing, however, makes it clear that the final words are "WHOOP 'EM, INDIANS!"-- the cry that tore through the crowd at the end of the anthem, invariably.

The local high school football stadium in question has a huge totem pole in it. I kid you not. For the first game of the season, the cheerleaders dress in skimpy "squaw" outfits and dance / cheer barefoot, with ankle bracelets. The mascot is, needless to say, an adolescent in full headdress etc. Before the start of each home game, a person (again, in Indian garb) rides a horse (yes, a horse) out to the center of the field and throws a feathered spear into the ground. And the crowd goes wild.

I have occasionally yelled "Assert yourselves, Native Americans!"

I have often also (returning to the subject) refused to stand for the national anthem. It was awhile back that I stopped standing during US "interventions" in Iraq, and, since that is pretty much a fixture of Amerikun life, I do a lot of sitting.

Oh, and our seats at the football stadium? A family heirloom, passed down from father to son. No, really.

There are some experiences unique to small-town America (thank god) that just can't be replicated anywhere else (thank god again).

Guess I'll go to my tepee now (my brother won one once at school, but we won't even go into that) and have a peace pipe (or the equivalent, a cocktail including Seroquel and Klonopin) before I sleep.

Elvisette philosophized at 11:16 PM