NASCAR & Pissing Excellence
Yesterday, Sunday afternoon I attempted to watch the NASCAR race at Daytona. I cannot remember the last time I listened/watched a “stock car” race on television. At the time watching NASCAR became similar to watching golf. The televised races seemed to be perfect for napping.
I lasted about 20 minutes, then I had to click off. Enough of talking-head patter filling the waiting void of a rain delay. Several interviews of drivers were equally boring, canned, polished, with ingratiating mention of sponsors, (the logos already omnipresent on the driving suit). In addition I just felt offended to hear that the President showed up for a lap around the track, to receive the adulation of his bros. Perhaps no major televised event is to be produced now without his grim presence, his insatiable hunger for the roar of the crowd.
Earlier this morning I spoke with a friend at Starbucks. He reminded me of a quote from the film Talladega Nights. I like Talladega Nights-The Ballad of Ricky Bobby because it grasps the wild-assed exuberance of racing by the indirection of storytelling, by a delicious irony of the story and the lines and behavior of Will Ferrell who plays the part of anxiety riven race-driver Ricky Bobby.
Strangely, even aptly this morning, thoughts and conversation about the movie, and what has become of NASCAR – echoed the content of a seriously academic book which I am slowly reading, The Self-Overcoming of NIHILISM by Nishitani Keiji.
Here is the quote from Talladega Nights:
I mean, I wake up in the morning and I piss excellence.
You know, nobody can hang with my stuff.
I’m just a–just a big, hairy, American winning machine.
“If you ain’t first, you’re last!” You know?
In the spirit of this mood-of-irony I offer this tune: Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen. Don’t you love the language of these lyrics?
(Thanks to Tom for some good ideas!)
