It’s Oaks day. Most Kentuckians are duty bound to do nothing on a day like today, except the poor ones mind you. A couple of days ago a bunch of Arab princes and Billionaires started landing their private jets at Bowman field and the newly renamed Mohammed Ali International Airport in Louisville for the greatest sporting spectacle in the world, The Kentucky Derby.
Native son Hunter S Thompson memorialized some of the debauchery that occurs on the first Saturday in May in his famous essay The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved. It was and is and will forever be exactly that. Every two-bit hustler and hooker trying to make a decent living are there every year but nothing compares to the lowlifes pounding down mint juleps by day and gargling Chateau Lafitte Rothschild by night in the vast array of soirees hosted by upstanding social elites in the Bluegrass State the last couple of nights before the greatest two minutes in sports.
There’s one that the governor will attend which will sell a charity ham for $50,000 or more. Kentucky’s Gov has a bit of a shiner on his head today because of an interview he gave the local radio host one humdinger when he said, ‘Marijuana will not be legal in Kentucky while I am governor because of all the overdoses.’ For those not in-the-know, Kentucky has been ravaged by the opiate problem that turned a lot of Kentucky clinics into pill mills. Bevin has been too busy destroying Obamacare in Kentucky to find alternatives or other sources of revenue that might help stop this epidemic which has overburdened the Foster care system in every state in the union.
Some people made billions off of the human misery of Kentuckians, myself included. They’re the ones flying in Gulf Streams and Leer jets to see what their unbridled greed has bought them. They never get to that part of course, by design. Even our gold-medalist in the Olympic dunciad, Matt Bevin knows not to let the old moneyed jet setters see the human squalor that Kentucky meticulously conceals during the big show. Hell, the hardest working people in Kentucky the past month are Kentucky’s prisoners who have been cleaning up the garbage for a $1 a day.
I can only imagine what it must be like for the profiteers from Oxycontin to stare down from Millionaire’s Row at Churchill Downs at all the pomp and circumstance splayed out on the bluegrass before the world knowing not only did they make billions by enslaving their fellow man to chemicals but now they get to profit from the many industries that profit from their incarceration as they raise their Juleps skyward to toast the greatest country in the world. Hunter called these reprobates ‘the bourbon gentry’ because that sounds a lot more charitable than describing them for the grendels that they are.
There’s something corrupting about the limestone and horse shit in Kentucky that seeps down into the marrow of anyone who has spent any amount of time there. Mark Twain famously said of my old Kentucky home, “When the end of the world comes, I want to be in Kentucky because it’s always twenty years behind the times”.
Tomorrow, over a hundred thousand people will invade Churchill Downs to witness the greatest horse race in the world. A band will pound out the notes to My Old Kentucky Home which is easily the greatest state song there is. You can’t grow up among the stench of horse shit and bluegrass and not tear up when you hear it. It is that beautiful, except when it’s not.
‘The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home,
‘Tis summer, the darkies are gay;’
Aye, there’s the rub. They’ve changed the words Stephen Foster wrote for his song. ‘Darkies’ has been changed to ‘old folks’ to conceal the embarrassing truth that well, slaves were probably not ‘gay’ about living in bondage. Kentucky being the ever-foresighted place of progressive thought has been grappling with its state song for quite a while now along with it’s apparently terrible miscegenation problem. (wink)
Apparently, a lot of Yankee agitators are unhappy with our venerated observances and old-timey remembrances and want to completely destroy Stephen Foster’s state song! Ain’t it enough that we have to change the hallowed words to make all the blacks happy? Why if we keep going they gonna want reparation checks and they done talking about it now on the Ellen show by gum!
I’m a nativist Kentuckian. I’m practically sick of all these gotdamn liberal activist telling me about how we need to keep changing the state song so we don’t hurt the feelings of you know, the blacks. I’m sick of half measures and bandaids that accomplish nothing. Let’s show the world who we really are! Why should any of us be ashamed of a racists state song that exalts how gay the darkies once were? It ain’t exactly a mystery why over 40% of our prison population comes from people who only represent 13% of the population?
That’s our heritage! Why should we change our venerated observances for a bunch of uppity interlopers that only come oncest a year? I ain’t changing the words just to suit all them! Or make them comfortable! I’m not letting anyone forget our heritage of slavery, Jim Crow and racism. I’m going to rub it in the faces of every goddamn Grendel on Millionaire’s row until the truth shines bright on my old Kentucky home!