kevinwalsh
04-07-2009, 04:52 PM
My favourite sports are generally those of solitary participation which would not be particularly fun to watch others do, such as hiking, mountain climbing, and non-competition swimming. Once in a while, however, I will attend a rodeo in person as a spectator. Over the years I've grown used to the introductory rituals, which sometimes include a prayer (and if a believer, I might imagine a deity laughing back saying, "If you must play silly games with the dangerous animals I created, someone will get hurt, so don't go praying to me about that.") and which always include displays of the Jew government's flag and the playing of "To Anacreon In Heaven" (though this fine 18th Century English drinking song is ruined by the bombastic lyrics of Francis Scott Key). I generally sit patiently through this nonsense while nearly everyone else stands at attention and wait for the real action to begin. I did once shout back to an announcer, "Salute Yankee colours?! Why not just say, 'Bend over!'?"
At two rodeos I attended recently (one in October 2008 in Phoenix and one just last Saturday afternoon in Cave Creek), there have been attempts to entice spectators to remain after the end of the performances to stand to attention to more pseudo-patriotic songs. In both cases the stock contractor was Honeycutt, and in both cases the terminal pseudo-patriot song was "God Bless America," by the Jewish song writer Irving Berlin.
Strangely the reactions were different. The first time (October), those invited to stand promptly did and promptly exited the arena seating. The second time in Cave Creek, however, nearly everyone remained standing. Of course the announcer said something a little different this time. He said, "I invite all of you who support our troops to stand." I must confess I stood and promptly left the arena. Perhaps I could have been more emphatic by crawling down the bleachers instead of walking down them so that I would not appear to give any endrosement to troops, but then it was the announcer who said standing signified something, not I. As I walked towards the dirt parking lot, crowded with vehicles but nearly deserted of people, it occurred to me that this was my chance for a quick escape. Normally I linger after rodeos, relaxing or taking a walk, knowing that there would be a traffic jam and that I might as well wait outdoors rather than wait in my car.
On my way, I encountered a few half-hearted people who were holding their hats over their chests in deference to the song even as they were leaving, but the overwhelming majority stood at attention in the arena seating as I left. True to my prediction, I escaped the parking lot very quickly and had very little traffic with which to contend. Maybe this new double-patriotardism has its advantages. As to those inside, I don't know how listening to that Jewish song made them think they were helping anyone's troops, but I'm sure my friends in the Iraqi Resitance and the Taliban wouldn't want me listening to Jewish music to support them. For all the advantage in my escape, I still wish Honeycutt would bring back their politically neutral exit song "Happy Trails."
At two rodeos I attended recently (one in October 2008 in Phoenix and one just last Saturday afternoon in Cave Creek), there have been attempts to entice spectators to remain after the end of the performances to stand to attention to more pseudo-patriotic songs. In both cases the stock contractor was Honeycutt, and in both cases the terminal pseudo-patriot song was "God Bless America," by the Jewish song writer Irving Berlin.
Strangely the reactions were different. The first time (October), those invited to stand promptly did and promptly exited the arena seating. The second time in Cave Creek, however, nearly everyone remained standing. Of course the announcer said something a little different this time. He said, "I invite all of you who support our troops to stand." I must confess I stood and promptly left the arena. Perhaps I could have been more emphatic by crawling down the bleachers instead of walking down them so that I would not appear to give any endrosement to troops, but then it was the announcer who said standing signified something, not I. As I walked towards the dirt parking lot, crowded with vehicles but nearly deserted of people, it occurred to me that this was my chance for a quick escape. Normally I linger after rodeos, relaxing or taking a walk, knowing that there would be a traffic jam and that I might as well wait outdoors rather than wait in my car.
On my way, I encountered a few half-hearted people who were holding their hats over their chests in deference to the song even as they were leaving, but the overwhelming majority stood at attention in the arena seating as I left. True to my prediction, I escaped the parking lot very quickly and had very little traffic with which to contend. Maybe this new double-patriotardism has its advantages. As to those inside, I don't know how listening to that Jewish song made them think they were helping anyone's troops, but I'm sure my friends in the Iraqi Resitance and the Taliban wouldn't want me listening to Jewish music to support them. For all the advantage in my escape, I still wish Honeycutt would bring back their politically neutral exit song "Happy Trails."