This is what it’ll look like when they’re done with it.
Today’s Sunday, it’s an NFL football day, and I am left out, boxed in, and teed off!
See, now they play a special “B”lack national anthem before they play the real one, and all the players kneel to show us peasants how oppressed they are, etc. Well, blow me down–we’re gonna need some more national anthems! Lots more. Why should “B”lacks be the only ones to get their own anthem?
I am half-German, a quarter French, and a quarter Irish–and there must be, oh, dozens out there like me! All feeling slighted and excluded and triggered by the fact that football won’t play our Franco-German-Irish national anthem–Le Marseilles Uber Alles Go Bragh!
And then they can play all the other national anthems that they want, and kneel for six hours if they want–I won’t care, as long as they’ve played my national anthem.
Always presuming I want to watch the game at all.
Here are a few more hymns:
I Feel Like Traveling on
Oh, the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms
I Know Whom I Have Believed
👍😊
Into the wagon they go!
Thank you, Mr. Duigon! 😄
I want a National Anthem for the Bronx, where I grew up. No, make that a National Anthem for the South Bronx, where I spent my childhood, and another one for the North Bronx, where I lived until I joined the Air Force at age 29. No again, make the second one an anthem for the Bedford Park section of the North Bronx. The other North Bronx sections (Fordham, Gun Hill, etc.) can fend for themselves.
P.S. – Actually, I once wrote a ballade titled “A Mock-Heroic Ballade of Battle from a Certain Section of the Bronx, To Be Sung with Gusto and Intolerance.” The refrain line was, “And I would die for Bedford Park.” It was really a diatribe against Manhattan, and parts of it called on other sections of the Bronx to rise up against the Manhattan tyrants. I wrote it in 1969, after a bizarre and hotly contested mayoral election in which I washed my hands of all the candidates and wrote in Gil Hodges, who had just led the Mets to a World Series victory. Ah, memories.
P.P.S. – Any G.K. Chesterton fans among us may have guessed by now that my poem was heavily influenced by Chesterton’s novel “The Napoleon of Notting Hil.”
P.G. Wodehouse once described a disturbance as making a sound like G.K. Chesterton falling on a sheet of tin.
Who were the mayoral candidates that year? Lindsay and Beahm?
Let’s see: Procaccio running on the Democrat ticket; Marchi on the Republican and Conservative tickets; and Lindsay on the Liberal ticket (he didn’t make it through the Republican primary, probably because he was such a RINO). Plus someone on the perennial communist-front ticket, but I can’t remember who it was or what they were calling the party that year.
Actually, I was pretty far left myself at the time. If I could go back in time now, knowing what I’ve since learned, I’d probably vote for Marchi.
Wow! I remember a quote by Mario Procaccino! Addressing an African-American audience, the mayoral hopeful proclaimed, “My heart is as black as anybody’s.”
I don’t remember who got elected.
Lindsay was reelected, even though he’d bombed out in the primaries. I think Procaccino and Marchi split the anti-Lindsay vote too much.
Who was a bigger RINO–Lindsay or Mitt Romney? Inquiring minds want to know. Not that it really matters anymore.
The words to the black nat’l anthem are uplifting in a way, but the tune is a dud compared to “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
I have never heard it.
I still prefer the American national anthem