Quilting Your Way to Infamy

Hola, los amigos del queso! You are all absolute stars--live like it. I mean it. Go out there and give them your best "you-don't-know-who-you're-dealing-with" attitude. People love that crap.

So anyway, on to more from the trip that the most wonderful woman in the universe and I took to the nations capital. By the way, did you know that the number one factor involved in selecting a state capital is geographic location within the state, not influence or population. The capital attempts in most cases to be the central most point in the state (ex: Harrisburg, PA, as opposed to the larger Pittsburgh or more natural choice Philadelphia). I digress...

Have you ever noticed that most people become a complete wanker once they step into a museum? I mean, I have documented proof on this--my cousin, the slab, works in a museum (which is the field of "finance" if you ask my shame-faced grandfather), and he confirms that people do this in museums. Take for instance the Smithsonian Institute National Museum of American History. After walking in the doors and praying prayers of thanksgiving to any God who will claim to be in charge of air conditioning, you are confronted with the first exhibit on the left--an exibit on the history of American Quilting.

When I saw the exhibit my first thought was "huh...my Auntie Julie would love that." Why? She quilts. Sure, she's Brittish, but still she quilts. So as the most wonderful woman in the world and I clasp hands and prepare to make our way hastily through the massive throng of twenty and thirty somethings and even some families in order to move to the exhibit on Ella Fitzgerald: First Woman of Song. Then it hit me!

Why was I having to become the human bulldozer to get myself through the literally 35 or so young guys who had crammed themselves into the History of American Quilting exhibit?

Before you think, hey he's going to gay bash! No he is not! I mean, I am not. I am going to bash on wankers. I am going to bash on people who for some reason feel the necessity to give a crap about something they would not have ever thought to care about lest they appear to be too normal. I mean, honestly, I can see my Aunt wanting to stop and browse. I can even justify her husband being compelled at that point to go with her. But this many people, who were obviously more concerned with appearing open-minded and interested in all things is just ridiculous.

I can already here chopper1's motor going, so let me just address his next thought: Okay, I will give you that perhaps you hadn't cared but now this had piqued your interest, so you looked. Good. Look. For a moment look. Give it the old once over, discover why you already knew you didn't get into quilting and move on.

Going into a museum does not mean that you have to look smarter than you are. You can go in just to see the Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington sections--briefly appreciate the other exhibits, learn a thing or two, and move on. You don't have to become the greatest renaissance man ever once you go into a museum. This monly makes you deserve a sound thrashing.

That's it for today my beloved fans. Be sure to take your daily vitamins and say your prayers.