Surly's Soap Box

Self-indulgent blow hard attacks motorcycle enthusiast:

The disturbing roar of hollow patriotism

By Garrison Keillor

May 28, 2008

Three hundred thousand bikers spent Memorial Day weekend roaring around Washington in tribute to our war dead, and I stood on Constitution Avenue on Sunday afternoon watching a river of them go by, waiting for a gap in the procession so I could cross over to the Mall and look at pictures. The street had been closed off for them and they motored on by, some flying the Stars and Stripes and the black MIA-POW flag, honking, revving their engines, an endless celebration of internal combustion.

A patriotic bike rally is sort of like a patriotic toilet-papering or patriotic graffiti; the patriotism somehow gets lost in the sheer irritation of the thing. Somehow a person associates Memorial Day with long moments of silence when you summon up mental images of pilots revving up B-24s and infantrymen crouched behind piles of rubble steeling themselves for the next push.

You don't quite see the connection between that and these fat men with ponytails on Harleys. After hearing a few thousand bikes go by, you think maybe we could airlift these gentlemen to Baghdad to show their support of the troops in a more tangible way. It took 20 minutes until a gap appeared and then a mob of us pedestrians flooded across the street and the parade of bikes had to stop for us, and on we went to show our patriotism by, in my case, hiking around the National Gallery, which, after you've watched a few thousand Harleys pass, seems like an outpost of civilization.

There stood Renoir's ballerina in pale blue chiffon and Monet's children in the garden of sunflowers. And Mary Cassatt's "The Boating Party," which I stood and stared at for a long time. A lady in a white bonnet sits in a green sailboat, holding a contented baby in pink, as a man rows the boat toward a distant shore. (Perhaps the boat is becalmed.) The man wears a navy blue shirt, he is preoccupied with his rowing, and the lady looks wan and mildly anxious, as well a mother should be. The baby is looking dreamily over the gunwales. Is the man a hired hand or is he the husband and father?

A work of art can lift you up from the mishmash of life, the weight of the unintelligible world, and vulgarity squats on you like an enormous toad and won't get off. You stroll down past the World War II Memorial, which looks like something ordered out of a catalog, a bland insult to the memory of all who served, and thousands of motorcycles roar by disturbing the Sabbath, and it depresses you for hours.

If anyone cared about the war dead, they could go read David Halberstam's The Coldest Winter or Stephen Ambrose's Citizen Soldiers or any of a hundred other books, and they would get a vision of what it was like to face death for your country, but the bikers riding in formation are more interested in being seen than in learning anything. They are grown men playing soldier, making a great hullabaloo without exposing themselves to danger, other than getting drunk and falling off a bike.

No wonder the Current Occupant welcomed them with open arms at the White House, put on a black leather vest, and gave a manly speech about how he'd just "choppered in" and saw the horde "cranking up their machines," and he thanked them for being so patriotic. They are his kind of guys, full of bluster, giving off noxious fumes, and when they leave town, nobody misses them.

Meanwhile, the man pulls at the oars, the lady wonders if this trip was a good idea or if some disaster is at hand, and the child lolls on her lap, dazed by the sun. They started this trip in 1894 and haven't advanced an inch; meanwhile, half the people who ever stood and watched them have reached that distant shore and the rest of us are getting closer every day.

I am the boatman and maybe you are, too - it is quiet on the water, we lean on the oars, and we are suspended in time, united with every other man, woman and child who ever voyaged afar.

Garrison Keillor's column appears regularly in The Sun. His e-mail is oldscout@prairiehome.us. Send him a note to let him know what a prick he is.

I've been driving my motorcycle almost exclusively this spring. I'd like to say that it's because of the lovely weather and the beautiful drive down the Theodore Wirth Parkway. But the weather hasn't been all that lovely, and with the removal of the Lowery Ave bridge, Theodore Wirth isn't an option. Nope, it's the high price of gas that has me riding daily, and I'll tell you, nothing takes the joy out of riding a motorcycle quicker than rush hour.

At current prices ($3.79 for premium), it cost me about $.10 a mile. It costs me $.33 a mile to drive my truck (on regular). If gas hits $4.00 a gallon for regular by winter (as they're predicting), I might have to see if I can get a sidecar for the bike! Actually, If I didn't have to drive the interstate to get to work, that would be a viable option.

While I'm not for government intervention, I might support a mandatory 4 day work week. 4-10 hour days, cutting peoples driving by twenty percent, might not lower prices, but it would save everyone 20% of their own personal gas bill.

Fuel for thought.

Anyway, I went on a long ride in the country this morning, and that restored some of the joy of riding. I actually had a chance to get into fifth gear and 'blow out of some carbon'. That's code for "drive fast". I won't say how fast, as my wife is sitting her next to me and I don't want to leave a paper trail.

...if they preach on "The Four Horsemen of the Kentucky Derby" and seem particularly perplexed that the Pale horse didn't win, place or show.

...and yelled, 'Ouch! That hurt!'

So, what has Surly Dave been up to? Well, as many who read here know, I do a little preaching. I've never bragged about possessing supreme speaking abilities or my ability to captivate my audience. I would not be called 'fiery' or 'charismatic' in the pulpit. But I am passionate.

But that's not the point. The point is that I recognized that I needed to hone my speaking skills. So like anyone else in my position, who doesn't have time or resources to invest in a communications degree, I decided to take a class in stand-up comedy.

I know what most people say when you read that: "Don't you have to be funny to be a stand-up comic?"

Ha ha. I thought I'd give that one to you for free.

Anyway, my instructor says I've got a great 'comedic instinct' and is helping me with writing jokes and such. Believe me, writing for the stage, at least for stand-up isn't as easy as it seems. Writing humor (which I've done a little here on this blog) is different because you have a chance to be clever and you have more opportunity to build your 'bit'. The reader has a chance to re-read something, think about it, or come back to it. With an audience, you have to consider them hostile. You have to convince them, in a short period of time, that your point of view is funny. They come to a comedy club or go see a comedian with the attitude of, "Well: Make me laugh."

Of course, some of the church audiences I've faced could be considered hostile as well...

I'm already enjoying some of the benefits of the class as far as sermon prep and preaching goes. Not that I've done any since starting that class, in fact, I'm taking a 6 month sabbatical from the pulpit, but I've had an 'epiphany' of sorts: A couple weeks ago, I was watching a show on the History Channel called, "The History of the Joke" and in the show, they had an interview with George Carlin. He was asked, "Do you try to make people think in your act?" and he replied, "No: I try to do the thinking for them. I don't want them to think." He then went on to explain he had dropped out of school in the 8th grade, and all his life he has been trying to prove to people that he is 'smart'.

I really related to this. I didn't finish college, and on our pulpit team there are many college grads: A Lawyer, Teacher, Computer Geeks with fancy degrees, a pastoral studies major, a corporate trainer turned home schooler, and Art major...Also, many people in our church are grads from some of the local bible colleges. While I know I have the call to preach, I was often under condemnation for not being 'trained', 'educated', or 'smart' enough. (This condemnation came mostly from myself) As a result of my own insecurity, I was often 'clever' in my preaching, tackling big, heady topics, reading the latest books, using big words, all trying to prove to everyone that 'I am somebody'.

Even the humor I used was 'intelligent', often asides meant to show how 'smart' I am.

What stand-up comedy has taught me is how to form a clear, concise argument and bring it home with an easy to remember point. It's also taught me how to more fully use the natural gifts and point of view God has given me instead of contrived ones.

As far as doing the comedy thing, I will have some opportunities to perform in the near future. I might even make an announcement here as to when and where.

Years ago, I did some stand-up and open-mic nights. I was even encouraged by members of the church to go into Christian comedy, but that was when the Mike Warnke thing blew up, and everyone soured on Christian comedians for a while. Right now, my act is kind of worldly. Not crude or sexual, no profanity, but I make fun of the 'world'. After all, as a child of God, we should see the systems of this world as humorous. Fallen?: Yes. Oppressive? Not when the Kingdom you live in is that of Heaven.

But I'm not going to go there right now.

Well, I'm back to work. Started a job on Monday as a fabricator for a sign shop here in the metro. This is my third sign job now. I guess it gets into you bones or something. I just can't stop being creative, dang it!

Otherwise, life has been insane as usual. One of these days I'll get back into writing or pull the plug. But for now I'll just paying rent on my little corner of the internet.

Maybe I just have set such high expectations of myself (as far as writing goes) that I give up even before I start because I don't have the time or energy to 'do it right'.

Oh well.

The other night there was a program on the History Channel called, 'The History of the Joke'. In the program, Lewis Black interviewed Dr Richard Wiseman, from the University of Hertfordshire, who spent the last few years researching humor and what people find funny. This is, according to years of investigation, the world's funniest joke:

Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He doesn't seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other guy whips out his phone and calls the emergency services. He gasps: "My friend is dead! What can I do?" The operator says: "Calm down, I can help. First, let's make sure he's dead." There is a silence, then a shot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy says: "OK, now what?"

I think the joke is funnier when you actually try to tell it to someone.

...that there are some people I know, people who I might have counted as friends, who have been using content found on this site to mock me, make fun of me, and generally do the "I'll make myself feel better about myself by tearing down somebody else because I'm so desperate to be somebody because my pathetic little life sucks and I want to feel superior..." thing.

If you think my Christianity is funny or a waste of time, or my inner reflections worthy of derision, then maybe you should take some time to look at your own life. At least I'm out there doing something, trying new things, growing as a person, contributing to society while you, perhaps, have given up. And Hey! I'm having fun. Kind of sucks right now being out of work and such, but over all life is good.

It actually makes me sad knowing that I can't really share the good stuff, the deep stuff, the real stuff with you because you'll just use it to stab me in the back. In fact, I'm beginning to believe that the only reason you talk to me is to get more ammo.

Before you lash out in anger, before you pick up the phone or leave that nasty comment, take a week to think about this: Is that how you want a friend to treat you?

Think about it.

Let the McCain coronation begin.

I watched McCain's speech to the Conservative-Something-Something conference this afternoon, and I think he did pretty well. He has a lot of fences to mend in the Republican Party, and I doubt he can pull it off. So, cue the third party that's guaranteed to to skim the ultra conservatives off the top and ensure an O'Bama victory in November.

Remember John Anderson who helped Carter get elected? How about Ross Perot? Who will the next spoiler be? Bloomberg? Huckabee?

Combine that with everyone's tiredness of the current government and an earnest desire for change (on both sides of the aisle) and we'll have a Democrat in the White House for sure.

Looks like the Presidential election is going to come down to a pitched battle between a Couple of Irish men: O'Bama and McCain.

McCain is Irish, hailing from the Ulster region. He's not Scottish as he had mistakenly claimed in his book, but his family has Scottish ties. Read the link for more info.

I can't place O'Bama though. Must be Black Irish.

I am boycotting the Olympics and any of the proud sponsors of totalitarian, oppressive, human rights violating regimes.

Ya hear that Coca Cola! McDonald's! Your going down.

Egyptian officials debate divorce by text message.

I personally think that they should ban the practice just because the guys a gutless bastard for not doing it to her face. Nice to know they respect marriage, not to mention women and family values so much that uttering "I Divorce You" three times in a row is enough to let them off the hook.

I'm probably behind the times on this:

It's sick.

It's juvenile.

It's crude.

It's something you'd find at KAR, not here.

But hey! I found it first.

I hope that this doesn't set the tone for this round of unemployment.

Can't complain about a job when you ain't got one!

Yup, I was 'terminated' today. Let go. Fired.

I saw it coming though.

I was planning on looking for a new position after the Holidays, but now I have lost the luxury of looking while I was already employed.

Maybe I can finish up all those posts I have in the "Save and Edit Later" folder between sending out resumes and applications.

More later.

Life has been insane lately. Not only has it gotten cold out, (cold, as in single digits), but I have had to work 10 to 12 hour days, most of which has been, you guessed it, outside.

I just can't handle it anymore. I don't know how those guys who work outside year around can do it, but my hat is off to them. I just can't handle another day of multiple layers, cold breezes, and frost bite. I thought I'd acclimate, but it just ain't happening. Every year it gets harder to do, every year the joints ache more, the work is more exhausting, the cold gnaws a little deeper, it takes longer to warm up...

I didn't even plow out my driveway with the last round of snow because I just couldn't stand to be outside, to be cold...

So I'm exhausted when I get home, and then I'm busy most every night of the week with church activities. Now that I'm officially installed as an elder at my church, there are added meetings and responsibilities, which I could handle if work wasn't killing me. The nights I don't have anything going, I just crash in front of the computer, too fried to blog (which is when I should post about politics), or I pass out on the couch.

Today, I had a touch of some sort of stomach bug, and decided that it was enough of a nuisance to stay home. While I feel guilty about not going to work, part of me is like, "screw 'em". While the stomach bug is a legit excuse for not standing in the middle of a frozen, snow covered, wind swept parking lot installing signs, part of me feels bad for not toughing it out. I do have a strong work ethic, but if you've ever had to use a porta-potty in 5 degree weather, well, you'd probably make the same decision.

My wife keeps asking me if I'm depressed, but I think I'm just worn down. I need to recharge, to get out with some friends and do some thing different. But every time I make plans, something comes up, whether it be work or home. Heck, I wouldn't know know what to do with myself if I found myself in a purely social environment. It'd probably take me a couple hours to unwind, or at least a couple beers.

It's probably just the season though. The short days, the busyness of the end of the years stuff. I don't personally get caught up in the commercialization of the Christmas season, but I do get dragged into the rush of it. Not that we as a family unit get crazy with the shopping and all that, but the end of the year is generally insane for all.

Perhaps when January rolls around I'll be able to find some balance, but for now I'll take a long week end and hop back on the train Monday morning. Bundled up and working on a roof top in North St. Paul. Joy. At least it's supposed to be in the 30°s.

For the true story of Dick Cheney's heart irregularity, start here.

I think he inadvertently tossed a quarter into a Salvation Army bucket, and his heart started to grow!

(this is humor, by the way)

Extreme Exploitation Make Over: Home Edition is quite possibly one of the saddest shows on TV these days. ABC dumps huge amounts of money building a home for some hurting people (not bad in it's self), but they make it a media spectical. It drives me nuts! I guess it wouldn't be as sexy to build a couple dozen homes for homeless mothers or remodeling a couple dozen handicapped persons homes to make them accessible.

So a bunch of upscale contractors and home furnishing stores get their products placed. What do they do when nobody is watching? These people probably have employees that have heart wrenching circumstances that are worthy on television coverage, at least by ABC's standards. So they get to feel good about themselves for a couple days, impress some stock holders, and go back to business as usual. Or hopefully, better business because of the advertising they received.

What does it tell the people who don't get chosen? That their lives aren't tragic enough for prime time TV?

It sends a message that help comes in the form of a trip to Disney World and new goodies. That's the message of 9/11: Suffer tragedy and the receive a pay out.

You know, this really bothers me. 9 trillion. What's going on here? Why is the government so set on spending money like a drunken sailor? If I spent the way government did, someone would have forcibly taken away my credit cards and possibly locked me up.

Something is wrong here. Very wrong. There isn't a good defense for this.

I recently attended Kilt Night at Keegan's Irish Pub (Last Saturday of each month).

Stopping for gas, the guy behind the behind the counter asks "The Question":

"What do you wear under that?"
"Depends."
"Depends on what?"
"That's it, Depends!"

Lot's of laughter.

Last night (Reformation Day), I wore a kilt to an Halloween event at a church up in Forrest Lake, we stopped off at a gas station for some soda, and the young gal asked me if I was dressed up for Halloween.

"Is it Halloween?" I asked?

I got a blank stare, followed by a nervous laugh.


Leave 'em wondering.