Old Gory

Baseball season is nearly upon us, and I am excited! Old Style, malt cups, dashed hopes! (I live on Chicago's north side, I've come to terms with it.) And once again, I'll be standing with my right hand over my heart, singing the Star-Spangled Banner. Which got me thinking...

Here is the weird thing about the Star-Spangled Banner (aside from the obviously weird fact that it's a song about a flag): it's a question.

I know folks like to toss around the phrase "land of the free and home of the brave," but the song we sing when we go to watch the Cubs play doesn't say anything along the lines of, "This is America, dammit, land of the free and home of the brave and a big old invincible rockin' place to be!" It basically says, "Pardon me, but the horrific violence has made everything smoke-filled and chaotic, and now it's barely dawn and still pretty dark and I don't even know what this nation's status is - can you see through all this crap and tell me whether or not our flag is still up?"

It gave me pause. Americans, I think, are occasionally guilty of a bit of braggadocio when it comes to the ol' U S of A. After all, we are told, it is the greatest damn country on the planet, and I have yet to see proof to the contrary (though I admit that I am not well-traveled). So it struck me as odd that the lyrics of our national anthem seem to be from the perspective of one who, when it comes to this country, is very ... unsure. "Did we even make it?" the song seems to be asking. Not exactly a ringing endorsement of our nation's strength.

But that is not the whole story.

In fact, the Star-Spangled Banner, written in 1814 by Francis Scott Key, has four verses; we only ever sing the first one at Wrigley Field. And until today, I had forgotten that the other three verses existed. They tell a tale of violence, of bloody vindication, of devastating come-uppance, and, interestingly, they seem to advocate the sort of Christian cowboy attitude that has earned the U. S. a bit of a nasty international reputation over the past few years.

See for yourself:

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more!
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war's desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

"Conquer we must when our cause is just?" That's a slippery slope, especially when we bring God into the mix. Anybody ever hear of the Crusades?

I think I'll go ahead and just stick to the first verse. After all, I don't want to miss the opening pitch.

I Can't Not Laugh At This

It may be the best ninja-related death acting in the history of the arts. Or I may just be an imbecile. You can decide for yourself. In the meantime, I'll be over here, chortling.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-EvPvfVOUV8

It's Kind Of A No-Brainer, Katie...

Katie Couric said this evening that in tomorrow night's CBS Evening News segment on the Vice Presidential nominees, she'll ask both Governor Sarah Palin and Senator Joe Biden what they think current Vice President Dick Cheney's best and worst deeds as Vice President have been.

As for his best deed, well, that's up for debate. As for the worst? I'm gonna go ahead and say that would be ... shooting someone in the face.

But that's just my opinion.

You Can Put Lipstick On A Male Chauvinist Pig, But According To John McCain, It's Still... John McCain.

Let me start by saying this: I'm not one hundred per cent sold on either of the Presidential candidates yet. I'm still doing a lot of research, I'm watching CNN, Fox News, and everything in between in an attempt to cut through all the crap and figure out exactly where each of these guys stands. I've been disappointed with both Republicans and Democrats during this race to the White House, but today a line was crossed. In a move displaying bold disregard for a little thing I like to call "logic," the McCain campaign has officially taken this Presidential race from tasteless to downright inane.

No doubt you've heard about this ad nauseam already. McCain's camp has been touting the Arizona senator as an agent of change whose policies would be drastically different from those of the current administration, but yesterday, in a highly-publicized speech, Barack Obama made the assertion that if elected President, John McCain would, in fact, keep things status quo. To sum the idea up, Obama used the phrase, "You can put lipstick on a pig, but it's still a pig." The McCain camp was immediately up in arms, claiming that this was a sexist attack on Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin.

Set aside for the moment whether or not Obama's assessment of McCain's proposed policies is correct. Set aside, even, whether or not the comment IS sexist. It is completely absurd and, really, quite stupid for McCain to claim it's a sexist phrase. You know why? Because he's used it himself. More than once. Including one time when he was speaking about Senator Hillary Clinton's proposed health care plan, a comment more directly linked to the female senator than Obama's comment yesterday was linked to Sarah Palin.

So if John McCain is going to stand by the claim that Obama's use of the phrase is evidence of sexism, then I would advise Sarah Palin to bail on this election; what woman wants to be the running mate of such an obvious sexist?

An Open Letter To Nick Paumgarten

In the August 25, 2008, issue of the New Yorker, in an article entitled "A Greenwich of the Mind," you wrote,

"Deep-seated thrift craves vindication, just as envy wishes for comeuppance, but even the most pious strain admits a twinge of fear in the face of vacancy and failure. "

Are you serious?

Dude. You're a good writer. Stop trying so hard.

Tony, Tony, Look Around...

I was thinking today about being canonized. Not the way one thinks of perhaps getting Chinese for dinner, just thinking about it in general. (I'd be a pretty tough sell, anyway, what with not being Catholic or performing any miracles.) But I was thinking it was nice that in the Catholic faith there's a saint for just about every situation. For example, if you've lost your keys or been raped, turn your prayers to St. Zita. Having trouble with vermin? St. Magnus of Fuessin's the guy for you! My favorite may be St. Drausinus, patron saint of invincible people. Weirdly, St. Drausinus is also the patron saint against enemy plots. Even invincible people can be paranoid, I guess. Here are some other notable saints:

St. Lydwina of Schiedam - patron saint of ice skating, roller skating, and sick people

St. Dymphna - patron saint of the mentally ill, therapists, and princesses

St. Sebastian - patron saint of racquet makers

St. Drogo and St. Germaine Cousine - because unattractive people need two patron saints

St. Vitue - patron saint against oversleeping and actors (who tend not to be morning people, so that makes sense)

St. Godelieve - patron saint of healthy throats

I couldn't help wondering if the patronage of a particular saint has anything to do with things the saint actually did during his or her lifetime. I know that St. Lydwina was Dutch, so it makes sense that she'd be the patron saint of ice skaters, but sick people? Was Lydwina the Zeena Frome of the Netherlands? I did some research, and it turns out the answer is yes! Lydwina of Schiedam was injured while ice skating at the age of sixteen. Gangrene set in at the site of a broken rib. She was in constant pain for the rest of her life. It is said that she had ecstatic visions, that miracles took place at her bedside, and that for the last nineteen years of her life, her only food was the Eucharist. Clearly, she did not mess around.

I wondered briefly what I'd be the patron saint of if I were to be canonized, but after reading Lydwina's story, the obvious answer is: nothing. Unless, of course, you counted the fact of my canonization as a miracle, which it would pretty much have to be. So there you go. St. Jeremy, patron saint of unlikely saints. (But knowing the Catholics, they've probably already got one of those.)

I'm Kind Of, Like, A Really Big Deal

So this is my first post on my first blog, and it's hard not to feel a little ... ridiculous. "Who the hell do you think you are?" says a voice in my head. "Why should anyone listen to your little musings? Do you really want to perpetuate the rampant narcissism you've complained our culture seems to be fostering? What are you doing, you big fat jerk?"

I have friends who blog, and I don't think they're idiots for doing so. I find their blogs - and others - amusing, thought-provoking, and often laugh-out-loud funny. But when it comes to my own, well, that voice...

Then I remembered this story:

On a recent trip to my home town, I was out at the Irish Pub (a fine establishment) with my best friend Shirley and saw a girl I recognized. I knew she'd gone to high school with us, but I couldn't think of her name. "Hey," I whispered to Shirley.

"WHAT?" she bellowed. (After a certain number of beers, Shirley can only bellow or speak in a stage whisper, not unlike Jack Bauer.)

"Shh!" I hissed. "The girl in the black tee-shirt, she went to high school with us. What's her name?" I was trying to be inconspicuous, since it was a small place and the girl was only a table away.

"YOU MEAN MEGAN SCULLION?"

"Dude, shut up!" I admonished. "She can hear you!"

"SO WHAT?" Shirley said, shrugging. "WHAT'S SHE GONNA DO, BLOG ABOUT IT?"

Shirley tells it like it is better, louder, and more hilariously than anyone else I've ever known. What could I say? She had a point.

And my point is, maybe I'm taking myself too seriously. Let the blogging begin!