Satan Lives In Alabama

Those of you who know me from Osborne Ink are aware that I blog too much already, but this land-bound writer cannot resist the siren song of the (O)CT(O)PUS. This being my first post for The Swash Zone, I suppose an introduction and mission statement is in order.

Beginning with the personal: I discovered my liberalism on the day in 1980 that my third-grade teacher Mrs. Huffington (an ironic name) took my incomplete pencil-drawing of a dragon and destroyed it amid senile mutterings of Satanic influence. My inspiration -- a deluxe vinyl LP of Rankin-Bass' The Hobbit, including storybook -- was confiscated for a day. Mrs. Huffington's proud ignorance -- indeed, one could call it arrogance -- also led her to dispatch the classroom's sole Jehovah's witness to the office every day so she could lead the room in the Pledge of Allegiance.

When my father was informed, his reaction was as near to ballistic as I have ever seen from a northeastern liberal. This gentle soul, later ordained an Episcopal deacon and deeply involved in prison ministry programs, tore the flabby educator a new metaphorical orifice.

This incident, like many others, made it difficult for me or my family to maintain a social circle outside of the small academe of Northwest Alabama. We were transplants from the north -- and from a way of thinking that clashed with southern culture.

My family hails from both sides of the Mason-Dixon line; my maternal ancestors escaped Savannah ahead of Sherman's army, resettling in Missouri and then New England. But my paternal line is of pure Yankee extraction, including one of the early presidents of Harvard. I am the direct descendant of men who fought the bloody British at Bunker Hill and invented American higher education.

From an early age, then, I felt called to rebel against the tyranny of Teh Stupid™. As the 1980s progressed, Mrs. Huffington's attitudes were endemic to Alabama and the conservative movement as a whole. The voices raised in opposition to Harry Potter books today come from the same people who picketed The Last Temptation of Christ in 1987 and sued the state to have my American history textbook replaced with a more "Christian-friendly" (read: less informative) one.

Before I was even old enough to vote, I was rebelling through action and opinion. My first letter to the editor was published two years before I had a driver's license. One year later, mine was the second signature establishing the Alabama chapter of the ACLU -- right below my father's. Needless to say, I became inured to the harshest criticisms long ago.

While it may seem a myopic product of a provincial life, the sum total of my experiences has led me to form an Alabama Theory of Wingnuttery™. To wit:

All wingnuttery originates in Alabama.

Indeed, a strong case can be made that no original wingnuttery has been formulated outside the state of Alabama in over a century. Every John Bircher tract, every Phyllis Schlafly speech, every Michelle Malkin blog post has a prologue in this state. Could I only share a scrapbook of op-ed clippings with you, you'd find that the teabaggery of August is perfectly predicted by stupidity published in 1989.

I live on top of the epicenter of all wingnuttery.

Dangerous? Perhaps. Perhaps my presence here is a karmic punishment. Because this is the second thing you must know about Alabama: one cannot escape it. Like a black hole, Alabama exerts its own special force on sons and daughters. Many friends have noted that as far as we can get away (as far as the other side of the world) Alabama inevitably sucks us back in. It isn't that we want to return, but that we find ourselves back in the very towns where, as teenagers, we plotted escape.

Wingnuttery produces its own gravity.

It has mass. Like the black hole at the center of a galaxy, it is the circling drain-hole of rational thinking. It is a malevolent intention dressed up in the lamb's skin of piety. It seeks to turn us all into illiterate peasants reciting Bible verses that we don't understand. Wingnuttery is worse than mere evil: it is malignant, aggressive, and aimed directly at the foundations of scientific civilization. It is, in a word, Satanic.

Satan lives in Alabama. I live in hell.

They say the devil hides in the details; the state constitution here is the longest legal document in the world. Longer than Moby Dick and the King James Bible put together. Written with the intention of denying education to black children, today it manages only to accomplish the mission of centralizing all decisions in the state capitol where our legislature meets for 30 days a year. Establishing the most regressive tax system in America, our state constitution has been amended more than 800 times.

And there you have it. I make these claims not from ego, but from the sad horror of Dante.