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[hooter]

I used to like this guy 

Posted on Thu, May. 29, 2008

By Garrison Keillor
Special to the Star-Telegram

Three hundred thousand bikers spent Memorial Day weekend roaring around Washington in tribute to our war dead, and I stood on Constitution Avenue on Sunday afternoon watching a river of them go by, waiting for a gap in the procession so I could cross over to the Mall and look at pictures.
The street had been closed off for them, and they motored on by, some flying the Stars and Stripes and the black MIA-POW flag, honking, revving their engines -- an endless celebration of internal combustion.

A patriotic bike rally is sort of like a patriotic toilet-papering or patriotic graffiti -- the patriotism somehow gets lost in the sheer irritation of the thing. Somehow a person associates Memorial Day with long moments of silence when you summon up mental images of men huddled together on LSTs and pilots revving up B-24s and infantrymen crouched behind piles of rubble steeling themselves for the next push.

You don't quite see the connection between that and these fat men with ponytails on Harleys. It took 20 minutes until a gap appeared, and then a mob of us pedestrians flooded across the street and the parade of bikes had to stop for us, and on we went to show our patriotism by looking at exhibits at the Smithsonian or, in my case, hiking around the National Gallery, which, after you've watched a few thousand Harleys pass, seems like an outpost of civilization.

There stood Renoir's ballerina in pale blue chiffon and Monet's children in the garden of sunflowers. And Mary Cassatt's The Boating Party, which I stood and stared at for a long time.

A lady in a white bonnet sits in a green sailboat, holding a contented baby in pink, as a man rows the boat toward a distant shore. (Perhaps the boat is becalmed.) The man wears a navy blue shirt, he is preoccupied with his rowing, and the lady looks wan and mildly anxious, as well a mother should be. The baby is looking dreamily over the gunwales. Is the man a hired hand, or is he the husband and father?

A work of art can lift you up from the mishmash of life, the weight of the unintelligible world. You stroll down past the World War II Memorial, which looks like something ordered out of a catalog, a bland insult to the memory of all who served, and thousands of motorcycles roar by disturbing the Sabbath, and it depresses you for hours.

If anyone cared about the war dead, they could go read David Halberstam's The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War or Stephen Ambrose's Citizen Soldiers or any of a hundred other books, and they would get a vision of what it was like to face death for your country.

But the bikers riding in formation are more interested in being seen than in learning anything. They are grown men playing soldier, making a great hullaballoo without exposing themselves to danger, other than getting drunk and falling off a bike.

No wonder the Current Occupant welcomed them with open arms at the White House, put on a black leather vest and gave a manly speech about how he'd just "choppered in" and saw the horde "cranking up their machines" and he thanked them for being so patriotic. They are his kind of guys, full of bluster, giving off noxious fumes, and when they leave town, nobody misses them.

Meanwhile, the man pulls at the oars, the lady wonders if this trip was a good idea or if some disaster is at hand, and the child lolls on her lap, dazed by the sun. They started this trip in 1894 and haven't advanced an inch. Meanwhile, half the people who ever stood and watched them have reached that distant shore, and the rest of us are getting closer every day.

I am the boatman, and maybe you are, too. It is quiet on the water, we lean on the oars, and we are suspended in time, united with every other man, woman and child who ever voyaged afar.

Garrison Keillor's show A Prairie Home Companion can be heard at 5 p.m. Saturdays and 10 a.m. Sundays on public radio station KERA/90.1 FM. www.kera.org
 

[RedDragon]

Piece of AppleSauce!!!     

[jmdaniel]

Keillor is a d*ck. Here is a little story from earlier this year, demonstrating what an elitist snob he is:

http://www.startribune.com/local/stpaul/13784766.html

After the case was resolved through mediation, the pompous a** moved anyway:

http://www.startribune.com/local/stpaul/16238772.html

You'd almost think, with all that money, that he could afford to buy a comb! 

[iluvink]

Just look at his picture...enough said.

What a snob.

[crow57]

If anyone cared about the war dead, they could go read David Halberstam's The Coldest Winter: America and the Korean War or Stephen Ambrose's Citizen Soldiers or any of a hundred other books, and they would get a vision of what it was like to face death for your country.

Yeah, you could read books about what its like to face death for your country - Or you could just ask one of those bikers you loathe so much - at least 80% of  those who ride in Rolling Thunder every year are vets.  Thanks for correcting them on the proper way to observe Memorial Day.

I used to like Prairie Home Companion...  I'll never listen to it again.

[RocknRoll]

Just what I wanted to read.  A hate filled, bull corn story by an elitist, snob pervert practicing self stimulation, dirtying his drawers while looking at a painting of a ballerina!

What an idiot Keillor is - it was Memorial Day weekend.  Rolling Thunder has been in D.C. for years to show support for our troops and our lost and MIA heroes! Not one word of support for our men and women in harms way!   

[tom cat]

Many of us bikers with beer guts and pony tails, have no need to read a book, to know, what it is to face death in the service of this country.  Yes, we have been known to get drunk and fall off our bikes. We are what remains of the young men,who answered the call to arms.
We are the ones who send our sons, to go stand as we did, in the face of those who wish us harm, to kill or be killed. That Mr Snob, is  the price, we have paid to ride our loud smelly machines, to honor our brothers in arms,& our sons, and daughters, who would be with us  had they come home.
Puzzle your paintings, read your books, sue your neighbors, Buck Rogers about the unwashed masses, Even despise the president as you see fit, the right is yours, granted by those you so despise.
While you wait grumbling for us to pass, thinking no one will miss us when we are gone. Rest assured we pass as brothers. We are here to honor our brothers. You stand and wait.
I make no apology for your inconvienece, Who will miss you when you are gone, Your lawyer perhaps? 

[Dusty]

I bet his new neighbors are thrilled to have him move in next door. I hope they all have loud obnoxious hogs.

[jmdaniel]

I bet his new neighbors are thrilled to have him move in next door. I hope they all have loud obnoxious hogs.

Nah, that area of St. Paul is all old money. He'll fit right in. 

[hooter]

Many of us bikers with beer guts and pony tails, have no need to read a book, to know, what it is to face death in the service of this country.  Yes, we have been known to get drunk and fall off our bikes. We are what remains of the young men,who answered the call to arms.
We are the ones who send our sons, to go stand as we did, in the face of those who wish us harm, to kill or be killed. That Mr Snob, is  the price, we have paid to ride our loud smelly machines, to honor our brothers in arms,& our sons, and daughters, who would be with us  had they come home.
Puzzle your paintings, read your books, sue your neighbors, Buck Rogers about the unwashed masses, Even despise the president as you see fit, the right is yours, granted by those you so despise.
While you wait grumbling for us to pass, thinking no one will miss us when we are gone. Rest assured we pass as brothers. We are here to honor our brothers. You stand and wait.
I make no apology for your inconvienece, Who will miss you when you are gone, Your lawyer perhaps? 

Excellant reply Tom cat, I think Mr. Rightous will get this in his email box.