The Sneedlets proudly announced that they were going to Disneyland on their grandma's stationary bike. They didn't get too far.
And now, a rant. I don't suffer pretentious fools easily, I prefer people who are genuine. Perhaps you are thinking, well duh, who doesn't? Apparently, to a lot of people, it doesn't really matter.
Consider the following.
I went to the University of Arizona football game against the University of Southern California yesterday. It was a late afternoon start time, the weather was nice and I arrived an hour early, due to parking congestion, so I decided to walk around the tailgate area, to kill some time.
For the readers that are not familiar with American sports, tailgating is a party held near a sports stadium, prior to a game. The tradition began when the tailgate of a pickup truck was used as an impromptu picnic table. If you watch the introduction to a National Football League television broadcast, you will see lovable working-class schmucks, grilling, drinking beer and having a grand time in the parking lot of the stadium. This is not our tailgating, no siree.
Nowadays, you don't see many tailgaters actually using the tailgate of their truck. Now they have motor homes, with elaborate setups, including satellite television or large tents. It is a giant game of one-upmanship, each group constantly trying to improve their setup.
Additionally, the days of tailgating for free have been replaced by the need for a pricey permit from the University. Only those willing to pony up a minimum of $330 are welcome to tailgate at the stadium. In athletics, there is no shortage of ways to get money out of the fans, and no shortage of the pretentious willing to fork it over. At the University, the tailgaters are staked out on the mall, rather than in the parking lot.
As I walked around the tailgate area, I was struck by the number of people who seem to believe that being part of the right experience, conveys upon them some special status. The sights and sounds are hilarious. Come Monday, they will regale one another with fantasic tales of this past Saturday's tailgate antics. Who they saw, who saw them and what was said, all very important stuff.
An example of the sort of pretense I really hate was a boss I had for 6 long years. He desperately wanted to be better than his roots and a habit of trying to impress his underlings, a group that he was positive was beneath him. He once told me that his family would forego one of their frequent jaunts, so as to spend the money on a "nice piece of art for the house". This jackass couldn't recognize art if it fell off the wall and hit him on the head. Another time he described, in mind-numbing detail, the ski equipment he and his brood owned. I was so impressed. He thought things like tailgating with the right crowd was his ticket to be taken seriously. He was insufferable.
To be sure, most of the people in the tailgate area are just fans having a good time with their friends, but the whole idea creeps me out. Like Groucho Marx once remarked, PLEASE ACCEPT MY RESIGNATION. I DON'T WANT TO BELONG TO ANY CLUB THAT WILL ACCEPT ME AS A MEMBER. That's how I feel about tailgating, I wouldn't want to join in, even if they would have me, because I don't want to be associated with the idea. Although, I have thought it would be fun to pay up for a permit and bring about 25 homeless guys to my tailgate party. That would freak out the posers.
My favorite tailgate groups are the ones that have large tents with fences to keep out the interlopers. These setups require a $1400 permit to set up. There is a large mortgage company that has set up a tent and only invited guests are welcome. These mortgage companies stay afloat by hustling families and saddling them with inappropriate financing schemes. I sure wouldn't want to be a part of their party.
The creepy Wells Fargo Bank has another big set up. Did you hear about the guy who played piano in a whorehouse? His family disowned him when he quit to manage a Wells Fargo Bank branch.
Perhaps you are struggling with my exact point here so let me paint you a picture.
Apparently, we have a club of Hummer owners here in our fair city. If owning a Hummer doesn't scream pretentious a-hole at you, I don't know what would. At the tailgate area, these Hummer owners drive their beasts in and line them up for the world to see. They might as well stand shoulder-to-shoulder with their Johnsons hanging out. A display of coupious pigginess. To make matters worse, I will bet you that 95% of these things are leased. Nothing like having to rent your piggery.
Keep it real. Merle.
P.S. I don't actually know what keep it real means.
Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it.
Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor
Sep 24, 2006
Mostly Hat, Little Cattle
The Sneedlets proudly announced that they were going to Disneyland on their grandma's stationary bike. They didn't get too far.
And now, a rant. I don't suffer pretentious fools easily, I prefer people who are genuine. Perhaps you are thinking, well duh, who doesn't? Apparently, to a lot of people, it doesn't really matter.
Consider the following.
I went to the University of Arizona football game against the University of Southern California yesterday. It was a late afternoon start time, the weather was nice and I arrived an hour early, due to parking congestion, so I decided to walk around the tailgate area, to kill some time.
For the readers that are not familiar with American sports, tailgating is a party held near a sports stadium, prior to a game. The tradition began when the tailgate of a pickup truck was used as an impromptu picnic table. If you watch the introduction to a National Football League television broadcast, you will see lovable working-class schmucks, grilling, drinking beer and having a grand time in the parking lot of the stadium. This is not our tailgating, no siree.
Nowadays, you don't see many tailgaters actually using the tailgate of their truck. Now they have motor homes, with elaborate setups, including satellite television or large tents. It is a giant game of one-upmanship, each group constantly trying to improve their setup.
Additionally, the days of tailgating for free have been replaced by the need for a pricey permit from the University. Only those willing to pony up a minimum of $330 are welcome to tailgate at the stadium. In athletics, there is no shortage of ways to get money out of the fans, and no shortage of the pretentious willing to fork it over. At the University, the tailgaters are staked out on the mall, rather than in the parking lot.
As I walked around the tailgate area, I was struck by the number of people who seem to believe that being part of the right experience, conveys upon them some special status. The sights and sounds are hilarious. Come Monday, they will regale one another with fantasic tales of this past Saturday's tailgate antics. Who they saw, who saw them and what was said, all very important stuff.
An example of the sort of pretense I really hate was a boss I had for 6 long years. He desperately wanted to be better than his roots and a habit of trying to impress his underlings, a group that he was positive was beneath him. He once told me that his family would forego one of their frequent jaunts, so as to spend the money on a "nice piece of art for the house". This jackass couldn't recognize art if it fell off the wall and hit him on the head. Another time he described, in mind-numbing detail, the ski equipment he and his brood owned. I was so impressed. He thought things like tailgating with the right crowd was his ticket to be taken seriously. He was insufferable.
To be sure, most of the people in the tailgate area are just fans having a good time with their friends, but the whole idea creeps me out. Like Groucho Marx once remarked, PLEASE ACCEPT MY RESIGNATION. I DON'T WANT TO BELONG TO ANY CLUB THAT WILL ACCEPT ME AS A MEMBER. That's how I feel about tailgating, I wouldn't want to join in, even if they would have me, because I don't want to be associated with the idea. Although, I have thought it would be fun to pay up for a permit and bring about 25 homeless guys to my tailgate party. That would freak out the posers.
My favorite tailgate groups are the ones that have large tents with fences to keep out the interlopers. These setups require a $1400 permit to set up. There is a large mortgage company that has set up a tent and only invited guests are welcome. These mortgage companies stay afloat by hustling families and saddling them with inappropriate financing schemes. I sure wouldn't want to be a part of their party.
The creepy Wells Fargo Bank has another big set up. Did you hear about the guy who played piano in a whorehouse? His family disowned him when he quit to manage a Wells Fargo Bank branch.
Perhaps you are struggling with my exact point here so let me paint you a picture.
Apparently, we have a club of Hummer owners here in our fair city. If owning a Hummer doesn't scream pretentious a-hole at you, I don't know what would. At the tailgate area, these Hummer owners drive their beasts in and line them up for the world to see. They might as well stand shoulder-to-shoulder with their Johnsons hanging out. A display of coupious pigginess. To make matters worse, I will bet you that 95% of these things are leased. Nothing like having to rent your piggery.
Keep it real. Merle.
P.S. I don't actually know what keep it real means.
Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong and sometimes just full of it.
Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor
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1 comment:
You didn't even know it, and you were keepin it real.
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