Oh, Say, Can You Tone It Down A Bit?

Back in the day, there were two things that I actually liked about being in the army. One was free cigarettes, but you had to go to Vietnam to get those. The other was getting to salute the flag—like a damn man, damn it—instead of standing there like an idiot with your hand over your tit.

I was thinking about the plight of the civilian last night while watching the opening ceremonies of the Dallas Cowboys and the New York Giants—Red versus Blue, pretty much—and sympathizing with the assembled thousands who had to stand there for a good two minutes with their hand on their tit or risk being ostracized from the League of the Virtuous.¹

The whole shtick of playing the Star Spangled Banner before a sporting event didn’t become part of “America” until World War II. It would have been “nice” if the whole thing had been dropped afterwards, but, well, it wasn’t, and now with the various crisscrossing culture and counterculture wars over the passing decades, the whole ritual has become a means for the Right to throw their weight around. We took away their Jesus but we can’t take away their flag.

The NFL in particular has become ground zero in the Right’s use of sports to glorify a militaristic patriotism, and to force the rest to us to, well, to not bend the knee but rather grab the tit. Compared to the Super Bowl, of course, last night’s opening festivities were pretty tame. If there were jets swooping overhead, I missed them, but there were two gigantic flags—as though the U.S. and Texas were equal nations—plus a cast of thousands ringing the field. I realize that “unpretentious” is not what the NFL is about, but what’s wrong with a new tradition?

Afterwords
I am as patriotic as the next guy (probably), but I find extorted patriotism as offensive as extorted love. No one should have to “prove” their patriotism. And being an American shouldn’t mean that you want to spend $600 billion a year on “defense”.