“So here’s a quarter, call someone who cares.”
Travis Tritt wrote those lines, having been shafted by a romance gone bad. Country music can synthesize anything with these ‘somebody done somebody wrong songs.’ They lend substance to America’s self-indulgent malaise.
Everybody’s protesting something. Everywhere there’s Unrest, Disunity, Dysfunction and Inequity. It’s a cacophony of chaos. Social media is making martyrs every moment. Take a knee and Tweet your sacrificial rant; fame can be yours, too.
You gotta love the NFL players: their humility, their unity, their locking of arms, their bending of knees, the solidarity of conscience…all in peaceful protest. These growling and snarling turf gladiators who breathe out slaughter on testosterone-infused Sundays, they’re showing their compassionate side.
But for what? Oh, the usual…inequality and barrages of police brutality. Who better to lend credence to the subject of brutality? Res ipsa loquitor.
Ok, ok, back it down, quit foaming at the mouth. Only fools torch such a hallowed institution as football, and this is not a diss-your-darling kiss-off. Head knocking is brutal business. Survival is iffy. Anybody brave or crazy enough to do it deserves respect.
Now let’s set the record straight. I’m not against football in general; I’m just not necessarily for it in particular. Oh, I know, it makes men out of boys, exemplifies team spirit and guarantees orthopedic surgery. My broken nose testifies to it.
But I’m touched by their knees, nature’s built-in body parts that express humility and contrition. And there are plenty of other ways to apply these conciliatory virtues and make a statement. I know these things.
How? Because I purchased a $15 pair of rubber knee pads at Home Depot. I can testify it’s one of the best investments a married man can ever make. Men, when you feel like protesting something really stupid around the house, put ‘em on. Meekness pays big dividends.
My blood is running hot for protesting. The choices are unlimited. Just today I had it out with a gas pump. Did you know that gas pumps now talk to you? Get this: I pull up to one, start pumping. A grinning face shows up on the pump screen. It starts talking, rap music as background. “Hello, friend, you look like yesterday’s scarecrow. You need food. Come on in, I have some hot donuts, a cup of our famous-brand coffee, just for you.”
I protested with a wad of Juicy Fruit stuck right to his screen-smirking face. Was that extreme? After that, I called one of those ‘for-the-people’ lawyers. I got the number off of a billboard that pictured this mean-looking woman, dressed in black, holding a sledge hammer with the caption: “5’ 5” and Full of Mean.” I expect results soon.
Later I want to protest the ‘Unknown’ callers on my cell. Female Robo calls. Is this what the world’s coming to, female robots selling cruises? But protesting might put me on the ACLU hit list as a gender-bashing blowhard. I’m wary.
I was recently invited to join the ‘Protest a Politician Movement,’ that august convocation of disgusted citizens. It didn’t lead anywhere. Nobody could agree on anything harsh enough. I suggested duels with water pistols, or paintball rifles. It went nowhere.
Someone should protest baseball. I’m not that person, no credibility. I didn’t make the high school team because my eyes saw triple balls coming at me. I was made water boy. Today’s games are so long–up to five hours– that players take naps between pitches and you’ll have to come back to the stadium the next day to see who won.
As I contemplate protest opportunities, I think of other body parts to use. I know it’s a stretch, but think of it as the ‘metaphorical body.’ The elbows with sharp edges. The lying lips. The wagging tongue, the nose butting into someone else’s business. The pointing of the fingers, index and middle, if you will.
The itching ears, the shifty eyes, the gnashing teeth, the run-around feet and the closed pumping fist. Don’t forget the boasting chest, the shrugging shoulders, the sagging bellies and the devious head fakes. Oh, so many opportunities.
So, taking a knee might be the most sensible protest gesture possible. Yet, what could be a more compelling demonstration of unity than taking two knees?
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So take a knee and protest. And here’s a quarter, call The Someone who cares. And when you do, say, “Thanks.”
Bud Hearn
October 6, 2017