Nashville: Me, the presidential debate & the world's largest bachelorette party
Last August I dutifully trudged off to Milwaukee to witness the
Democratic presidential convention. It was mostly a no-show. All the
delegates stayed home and watched it on Zoom.
Two weeks later I dutifully trudged off to Charlotte to witness the Republican presidential
convention. It was mostly a no-show too. All the delegates stayed home
and watched it on Zoom.
And I just recently trudged off to Nashville to watch the presidential
debate between Trump and Biden. It was a no-show as well. The audience
all stayed home
and watched it on Zoom. In fact, there were only ten policemen, 14
demonstrators and a single lone Humvee outside the venue as far as I
could tell.
All this intense fear and trembling because of a virus that has a 99.9
percent recovery rate and is hardly worse than the flu -- or even the
common cold?
What is wrong with you people! Fear and trembling is anti-American. Man up.
Other than my non-experience with the lone Humvee, the no-show audience
and the 14 measly demonstrators, Nashville was a very pleasant
surprise. I toured the Grand Ole Opry with my friend Glenda. I toured
the Ryman. I bought my ticket to the Country Music Hall of Fame. I
went to Pegleg Porker for fall-off-the-bone BBQ as recommended by my
friend Pat. I toured the Johnny Cash Museum and even bought the
T-shirt. I ate buttermilk biscuits and took selfies in front of the
Parthenon. I rode the #5 bus. A lot.
And then I hung out on Broadway -- that famous two-block area where all
those extra-loud honky-tonk wannabe-pseudo dive bars are located.
Sooooo many people, filling the streets, even in broad daylight. Sooooo
many drunks. Hundreds of drunks -- and all politely masked up too.
And almost all of those drunks were young women. Wha? So I snagged up
one of them as she was happily staggering between one tourist
honky-tonk and another. "Why so many drunk ladies," I asked her point
blank.
"Bacdjeralette patty," she stammered. Oh. Right. Apparently young
brides from all over the South come here to downtown Nashville for their
bachelorette parties. And a bunch of them from the North come here
too. Who knew?
But I did have a wonderful time in Nashville -- even cold sober.
PS:
Maybe it's just jet lag, but I find myself being really really really
pissed off about this whole masked COVID lock-down thingie. Some creepy
rich guys in Davos have stolen eight months of my life already -- and
now they are talking about stealing another two or three years more
too? For a disease with a .02% death rate at most? Stolen our smiles,
stolen our hugs, stolen our homes, stolen our dinners, stolen our
children's happiness. Bah-humbug, Scrooge.
"Look over here
at COVID," they constantly tell us on TV. "Don't look over there --
behind that curtain" where the Federal Reserve has already stolen four
trillion dollars and then only given us back a few billion in stimulus
money -- and then they actually expect us to be grateful and feel guilty
while they sail around on their yachts. You bet I'm pissed off.
Rigging the COVID tests, suppressing the actual COVID data, it's a
scheme, it's a scam -- just like the "wars" on Vietnam, Syria, Iraq and
Libya were too. Only this time, even more Americans are dying due to
the lock-down and even more money is being made by people who are
already billionaires. Screw that. You got yours. Where is my next stimulus package, punks?
No wonder I feel so angry. Thanks for letting me vent.
But how come none of the rest of all y'all aren't pissed off too? And
don't say it's because you hate Trump. Hell, everyone hates Trump,
bless his heart -- when it's the oligarchs and swamp-dwellers who own
him (and Biden too) that we should be hatin' on -- and de-funding as
well.
And if I was at a drunken bachelorette party in legendary Nashville, I
certainly wouldn't be wearing no face mask. No way would I walk the
line! And Johnny Cash wouldn't wear no freaking rich man's face mask
either.
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