News from the Home Front
Gentle reader,
Our Florida correspondent, erstwhile pirate and songwriter extraordinaire, Mr. Lynn "The Wolfman of Astatula" Nelson, informs me that our hometown alma mater, Exira High School, is sending their girls' basketball team to the Iowa state championship tournament for only the fourth time in history, the last time being in 1965. They play their first game on Monday in Des Moines.
When I first got this news from Lynn, I thought, "Who gives a shit?" Then, I reconsidered and decided that this news is indeed worthy of publication. You see, I never went in for any reindeer games or otherwise in high school; sports to me were anathema. As a matter of fact, they still are. I could really care less about what team wins, loses or even how they play the fucking game. If you are going to give me a competition, then give me something like war, where there are real winners and real losers. Philosophically speaking, I suppose all who play the game of war lose in the end; at the least it causes a loss of innocence and of general respect for life. But that aside, there is always a bit of thrill in the initial contact between nations on the battlefield. That was brought home to me in the first Gulf War in 1991, when I sat around and partied with my friends, drinking beers and munching on "war nuts" (we had renamed beer nuts), watching the sanitary airwar as bombs were dropped with Skywalker precision through the elevator shafts of buildings from 20,000 feet. War is a spectator sport in this age of media saturation, and you will unfortunately find some of its biggest fans and supporters on the opinion pages of your local newspapers. You will fortunately find many fewer in the ranks of the armed forces. As for me, I find little thrill in it today, but it still beats the heck out of basketball.
Of course, being a good alumnus, I wish those who do care the best of luck. Destroy the enemy and bring home the trophies of sport to the hallowed halls of Exira High!
Our Florida correspondent, erstwhile pirate and songwriter extraordinaire, Mr. Lynn "The Wolfman of Astatula" Nelson, informs me that our hometown alma mater, Exira High School, is sending their girls' basketball team to the Iowa state championship tournament for only the fourth time in history, the last time being in 1965. They play their first game on Monday in Des Moines.
When I first got this news from Lynn, I thought, "Who gives a shit?" Then, I reconsidered and decided that this news is indeed worthy of publication. You see, I never went in for any reindeer games or otherwise in high school; sports to me were anathema. As a matter of fact, they still are. I could really care less about what team wins, loses or even how they play the fucking game. If you are going to give me a competition, then give me something like war, where there are real winners and real losers. Philosophically speaking, I suppose all who play the game of war lose in the end; at the least it causes a loss of innocence and of general respect for life. But that aside, there is always a bit of thrill in the initial contact between nations on the battlefield. That was brought home to me in the first Gulf War in 1991, when I sat around and partied with my friends, drinking beers and munching on "war nuts" (we had renamed beer nuts), watching the sanitary airwar as bombs were dropped with Skywalker precision through the elevator shafts of buildings from 20,000 feet. War is a spectator sport in this age of media saturation, and you will unfortunately find some of its biggest fans and supporters on the opinion pages of your local newspapers. You will fortunately find many fewer in the ranks of the armed forces. As for me, I find little thrill in it today, but it still beats the heck out of basketball.
Of course, being a good alumnus, I wish those who do care the best of luck. Destroy the enemy and bring home the trophies of sport to the hallowed halls of Exira High!
Comments
Listening to this great music you have linked to your page. Who is this guy? Weird.
-Lynn