Skip navigation

By Reid Wright

Hawgfest announced itself to the otherwise quiet night with a burnout contest. Note the elbow tattoo of the guy in the white shirt.

“You should get this,” a dolled-up chica in porn-star heels said, handing me a shot glass from the display table with the word “Teabagging” on it, with an explicit cartoon of the sexual act. I asked if I could get one for my mother. She thought I was joking.

I left the vendor’s booth and sat down, trying to ignore the young lesbians noisily making out behind me. A portly biker woman chomped at a dangling hotdog with her teeth from the back of a rolling motorcycle. The crowd cheered.  It’s a cultural experience, I told myself.

A wet t-shirt contest is also a cultural experience.

In my mind, I was working for National Geographic on assignment in Zambia, studying some remote tribe. Strictly professional.

But as the water came down and the t-shirts came up, I could only think one thing.

God bless America.

After all, in what other country could lawyers, dentists, receptionists and information techs strap on leather chaps and saddle up their motorcycles to head a few towns over for a weekend to drink booze, roast their tires and flash their naughty parts in mockery of the civilized world?

These are freedoms worth fighting for.

But then again, in what other country would they need to behave this way? All the hours Americans spend bound in undisruptive clothing, working undisruptive jobs and saying undisruptive things — it’s no wonder they behave like animals when given the chance.

Americans have become cows — plain brown cows. Too timid to do anything uncivilized or not politically correct, they graze though life without ever trying to escape their pasture or unleash the kung-fu killer instinct locked away somewhere in a forgotten strand of DNA. 

In the end, they obediently line up at the slaughterhouse and wonder why their life meant nothing.

In striving for a perfect humanity, we forgot  that we are in fact animals —aggressive, loud, sexual, violent, crude, passionate animals.

How long before letting ourselves go on the occasional weekend isn’t enough? How long until the animal within snaps and stampedes through our civilized mind and unleashes its long pent-up fury? 

If you read the news — and read between the lines — it happens every day.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: