Texas!

So in a fairly brassy move, Governor Rick Perry has been putting up radio ads in other states to encourage businesses to move to Texas.  His targets included Illinois, California, and New York (and on that one, Lewis Black did not take it lying down.)  Needless to say, the few people who actually listen to political ads have taken offense to this guy coming into their house and telling them their place sucks.  It's a bit like the guest dissing your rambunctious sibling.  Sure, you make fun of him to his face and rant about him when he’s gone, but as soon as some stranger starts talking trash about him, all you want to do is kick the stranger’s butt out the door.

Now, I’m a Californian through and through.  I was born here, raised here, and have kvetched about this stupid place all my life.  But man, after our state graciously accepts Governor Perry’s money and gives him air time, and as our guest he feels himself duty bound to tell us we suck… boy, that really sticks in my—

—okay, I don’t actually care.  Most folks in the internet can get into a pissing match about Perry’s presumptuous advertising, but frankly, he’s symptomatic of the unbelievable Texas pride.

Before I moved to Texas, I was aware of the incredible sense of self-worth Texans place in their stretch of dirt.  The job I held before I moved had half their managers from the Lone Star State, and shouts of, “This one’s from Texas!” resounded at least once an hour, often as they put together the California-style burger.  But this was just a small group.  Surely, they did not represent their whole state’s population.

Boy, was I ever wrong.

What I discovered in the first month of living there is that the children are trained from elementary school to have Texas pride.  Their state history is given equal priority with national history, and taken to heart more than lesser subjects like English.

And it is taken to heart.  The residents there have shown more passion for their state than I have ever shown for Jesus.  The true Texan extols the virtues of their land, preach of its greatness to the mass of those blindly staying in the 49 other worthless states, and the teach this message in their homes to their families, friends, and unwitting guests who came for dinner, little knowing it wasn’t their stomachs gorging on that sweet, sweet barbecue that fed them, but the nourishment of the good word of “everything’s bigger in Texas” that brought lasting peace to the soul.

It’s clear to me that Governor Perry has been misunderstood by the media and those irate souls following the message.  Perry’s not making an economic power play; he’s proselytizing his true faith, and under our First Amendment, you cannot mess with another man’s religion.  He, like thousands of other residents, knows it to be America’s shining beacon and the site of their eternal home.

Having been among so many believers, I’m completely on board.  Texas clearly is the best place in all the world, and out of the two years I lived there, I ought to be able to tell you the reason why.  Heck, many of the residents have been their entire lives, including the second generation of its sizeable illegal immigrant population.  Surely they could tell me why it was great.  One lady who invited me to dinner said, “I don’t where you’re from but I’m just going to let you know that your state’s got nothing.”

Who was I, a mere guest, to disbelieve?  But when pressed for a reason, the average stand-by is “everything’s bigger here.”  Well, this seemed to be true; biggest capitol building in the nation, biggest football fervor, biggest egos, and the biggest Christian church buildings I have ever seen in my life.

But is that all?  Well, according to the doctrine, bigger is better.  After all, it is the biggest state and that means it has to the bes—wait,  I apologize.  I did some quick research and it turns out that Alaska actually smoked Texas in that field by over 390,000 square miles.

Well, that doesn’t mean anything.  You can have a lot of land but that land doesn’t do you squat unless you’ve got people living on it.  And with Texas having the largest population… I’m sorry.  A brief overview of the national census in 2010 and the population estimates in 2012 both show that California has approximately 12,000,000 more people  residing there than Texas.

Oh, this is just man-made things, and with the population, that will change.  This only means they have to change the wording a little bit, as in “everything will be bigger in Texas.”  But in the meantime, they still have plenty to boast of.  After all, you can’t find deserts bigger than in Texas.

Okay, fine, I’m just being mean.  The Great Basin shouldn’t even count, since it covers more than one state and none of them within Texas borders.  You’d think the environment would no better than to waste its time with Nevada, Utah and those other silly southwestern nerd states.  Texas gets plenty of its crazy, humid weather, ranging from “hot as hell” in summer to “hell froze over and took my balls with it” in winter.  That it shares the same condition with the rest of the South and Midwest means nothing.

But going over my list, I really felt that Texas ought to be standing out a lot more than it was.  With a history has brash as the people themselves, something should stick out that beats all others.  They have the Alamo, which everybody talks about but no one outside Texas can recall whether the Alamo was a place or the name of the mythical herd of bison prophesied to once again roam the plains of the American country.

They could claim being the site of the most notorious presidential assassination, except that Washington D.C.’s hosting of Lincoln’s death probably has greater claim for biggest impact in general American culture.

Texas is big on barbecue, and they offer their own preferred cut of beef: brisket.  And brisket definitely is… okay.  I mean, it’s good.  It’s beef.  You can certainly get a lot out of one slice of the cow, but ironically, the best brisket I had the whole time I was there was from a man who’d lived most of his life in Utah.  He spent four days preparing that meat before it ever hit the fire, and nobody ever managed to do it better.

And even then, I have to say that while brisket is good, tri-tip is better.  Go California.

Was there nothing Texas could do the biggest and baddest?  Yes, it could.  It is the home of BlueBell Ice Cream.  Now, I have to admit, as much as I love ice cream, I’ve never been able to do what others do and set one brand of ice cream above another.  To me, the practice has been considerably silly.  Vanilla tastes like vanilla no matter where you’re at, and the experimentation of various flavors is fine, but can be quickly overdone by too much chocolate, nuts, birthday cake, and Charlie Brown’s rock that he passed out last Halloween.

And I did not believe in BlueBell, until I tried its limited special, Southern Blackberry Cobbler.  Blackberries are among my favorite fruit, and there pieces of pie crust sprinkled all over.  Because I am in the habit of mushing my ice cream into a milkshake, eating this flavor was like drinking pie, and that was delicious.

I was ready to rest my case.  Texas had the best ice cream in the world.  Until I went home for the summer the past couple weeks, and was enlightened.  I mentioned before that my family gets fresh milk straight from the cow’s udder.  Well, they also use the copious amounts of cream that come with it, and that cream has been used to make butter and their own ice cream.  And I found that there is something better over the rainbow.  Nothing compares with homemade ice cream, and I mean nothing, even when it’s not liquid pie.

I’d despaired of giving credit to Texas for anything this post.  No matter what, it could never quite make Number 1 at anything, until I realized that it was Number 1 at being Number 2.  And no one can take that from them.