Back to the present. Back to me. Back to Maryland.
Oh, speaking of Maryland, when I was out in California last weekend some woman asked me where I was from. No, she actually asked, "So where do you live?" Had I been asked where I was from, I'd'a said something like, "I am Californian, born in Los Angeles - 213 in the hizzy." In fact, I might have answered, "I am California." But, she specifically asked, "So where do you live?" I answered, "I live in suburban Maryland." Her reply was, "I'm sorry."
What? Sorry? Huh? I was trying to be nice too, resolutions and all, and I go, "Nothing to be sorry about, I have a great life and a great existence." What's with the attitude, huh? California opens its borders and these "tourists," "foreigners," and "imports" (as we called them in the day) have the nerve to cop attitude. You know what, I was born here. When I left California, you were still crapping your pull-ups. I built this shit (miniature golf too). Earthquakes, wildfires, and landslides make me giggle, OK?
Sorry? What do you pay in sales tax? What's your prison population? Who's your governor? You're sorry? Please. You ain't even from California. I was born in California, educated in California at the University of California. I've been a California state employee. I've almost drowned in the Pacific Ocean. I've lived in southern and northern California. I've represented all thing blessed about California to the world. I've lived through the Sylmar and the Loma Prieta earthquakes. SLA? Night Stalker? Mayor Sam Yorty? Me.
Does that bear flag make you swell with pride? Do you know what pride is? Do you kiss the ground when you return? You don't own California. You rent and you're lucky that I didn't collect the back rent, lady. It's a vacation to you so don't litter and leave it broom clean when you leave because you will leave. As we used to say in smaller times,
Welcome to California - Now go home
For my friends: If I'm dying, drag my ass to my home. I don't care if it's Lodi, Gault, or Scotts Valley. Let me die in the arms of the lord and god of all things good, kind, and smart: The California Republic. But - and get this - if you can't get me to the Golden State. I love Maryland just fine. It's my home.
You're sorry? No, I'm sorry. Californians are born, not made.
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