Posts Tagged ‘English Heritage’


September 16, 2008

At the pretended behest of my roommate (he only casually asked, and I was actually being a bother when I answered him a few minutes later. He’s a very busy man), I endeavored just now to investigate what in hell my last name means. It is inexplicably German, while the lineage I distinctly know of is Scottish, Welsh, English, Czech, French and some other stuff.

Obviously, there’s German in there.

Those of you who read this regularly, know that I will readily lay claim to being American, especially because here’s my birthrights, as far as I know them:

+Caber Toss: admittedly awesome, but is instantly nullified along with anything else cool (like, say, generations of axe-wielding badasses) by
Golf: Fuck. This. Game.

=Golf anyone?

Fuck it, we still need a visual of awesome.

+Boudica: Amen, tell it on the mountain, a warrior queen.
Reality– Who the fuck is Welsh anyway? (Answer: The Manic Street Preachers)

=I guess I can deal with Welsh.

+Dude, more barbarians: I view the English as the historical precursors to the Americans, which a lot of people do, but I tend to go a bit further back. To cut it short, just like us, they’re descended from just about everyone, they killed everyone they could, formed a country, then killed more people and formed an empire. It’s not so much a plus per se, but it makes for a nice point of reference, and explains why we get along so well. Also probably why both countries do stupid things. Like not using metric. Or invading countries.
Wicked, Tricksy, False, Thieves: Contrary to popular belief structures, the English have had next to nothing to do with modern culture. Yes, I’m talking about punk rock. Yes, I’m talking about blues. Yes, I’m talking about rock and fucking roll. And while we’re at it, can I get a Wu?

(say Tang, or I’m gonna look real bad!)

They can keep Clapton, and we’ll trade all hair-metal for Ozzy, the only one who had anything to do with anything. Dance pop should have been over next week and everyone knows Radiohead is saving money to buy a modest island in the Arctic Ocean and start their own country (Damon Albarn can probably come too). Deal with it, and do not call my own musical tastes into question, I am making a point here.

=It’s a filthy toss-up.

+Kafka, thank you.
Ennh: As far as Wikipedia tells me, they eat lots of meat. Also, pointing with the index finger is considered rude, and I tend to use my pinky, huh.

=I can also deal with this, minus the kidney eating.

+Dial That Shit IN: Please, by all means, name as many Poets and Thinkers as possible.
Flag Collection: Ya’ll ain’t never gonna live Vichy down.

=The elevation of humanity is, in hindsight, a bit more relevant. I can deal.

+Dude, beer: Dude, beer. And I guess big daddy Nietzsche.
Oooky television: I think that’s obvious.

=Ennh. I could hang without it. N did go nuts, after all. I worry about that enough as it is.

I’m getting lost here, and I know I’ve missed some things. I think my sister explained it to me at some point. I must not have been listening. Oh well.

So, I’m lost, but then, oh shit! I done gots this flag hangin up above mah bookcase!

I’m not gonna do the chant. That’s for Republicans and morons.

So, in the end, this little experiment was good for drinking a beer and listening to Joanna Newsom, who is a faerie. And further shored up my own personal definition, where I cherry-pick the good stuff and then own up to the bad stuff. Like Republicans and morons. And those stubborn fucking Texans waiting for rescue. Obviously certain death doesn’t scare Texas.

But, like I said, those folks are, in some weird way, related to me.

Thanks, all you shallow-end-of-the-gene-pool morons, for making me increasingly an exception to some bizarre set of rules we have in this country.

And thanks Mom and Dad, for the incongruous fucking name. I should go back to my old plan and drop the middle and switch it to Danger. Then I will get all the ladies.

All of them.