geraldofwhales-blog

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Call Me G

Your Royal Broness, I am like so totally drunk, or at leastt that is what Brad has told me. I like Brad your grace. He is a true Bro. They are quite pleasant barbarians, your Grace, and under your Guiding Hand they would right their barbaric ways and become a righteous pepole. I must admit, the barbaric wayy can be very enjoyable. They call me G Man now, and I believe I am gaining their trust. This shall help you greatly when you come to conquer Ye Ole Miss. O I do not feel well, your Grace. I think have had too many a Natty. I promsied Brad I would dance to a song of the Brotherhood called Old Town Road. I must leave you. Love you, bye

Your loyal dude,

G Man

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Your Graaaaaaaaceeeee

Are you well? I am sooo well. Many hours have passed since I last wrote, although I cannot discern exactly how long it has been. I now understand why these men worship their Natty Light Gods. According to one Brother called Brad, the truth is only revealed after a ritual called the Chugging of the Seventh Can. i see now yer Grace, i understand these barbaric Brothers of Pike most truly. They have been teaching me the modern language, and I find I am lerning quite swiftly. In these lands, everyone’s official title is either “Bro” or “Dude” and they only respond when adddressed accordingly.

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The Rituals of the Brotherhood of the Frat

I now write to you, my King, from the washroom of a chapel belonging to one of the many brotherhoods of Ye Ole Miss. The Brothers of Pike, as they are known, extended a cordial invitation to attend their gathering  following the Game Day Ceremony, and here I have discovered many traditions and practices of Ye Ole Miss people that prove to be most barbaric. Their gatherings, my King, are quite bizarre. They act like uncivilized heathens, leaping about carelessly and playing what they call music from strange boxes, however, to my ears it sounds like a blaring heartbeat, so loud I feared my eardrums would rupture. There are flashing lights in a wide range of colors, and this would be lovely if it were not so painful to look upon. They perspire more than any man I have ever witnessed, and they treat the chapel more like a brothel. I also observed the people worshipping an odd tower of what the Brothers of Pike call Natty Light. This tower is made of metallic cylinders containing the most repulsive ale, but while I do not know the tales behind this offering to the Gods, I concede that the tower appears to make the Brothers and their guests very happy. A moment, my King, there appears to be a knock at the door.

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The game of football has now ended, and I am led by a mass of bodies out of the stadium. I know not where they will take me, Your Grace. I know not what to expect anymore from Ye Ole Miss.

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The strange drink of these people is such a tingling and “fizzy” delight, as they say. Many call it soda, some call it Coke, and a few foreigners in the land of Ye Ole Miss call it pop. Your Grace will love the sweet, yet stinging delight of it. I will store a few in my robes to bring home to you. My lord will love to indulge in “a dog” with one of the fizzy drinks. No, it is not a hound, but instead a delicious sausage covered in a variety of brightly colored sauces. The food of the people of Ye Ole Miss is too good to be true.

Much like in Ireland, the people of Ye Ole Miss have musicians that create the most wondrous music. We need these big objects creating music in England. Their music, though loud, would be a most glorious and illustrious way to praise both Your Grace and Our Lord and Savior, were these instruments used properly.

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Look at these mystic women called the “leaders of cheer.” Though they are beautiful, they must surely be seductresses. Their impish fabrics barely cover their bosoms and bums. They revealed much more flesh than I have ever seen on a woman’s body, and they entice the crowds to chant such vile words that I do not seem to know. “Flim flam bim bam”?! They speak such gibberish, and it is as if they are worshiping another god!

In fact, idols run rampant in Ye Ole Miss. Many people carry items of a strange, bearded little man, while others seem to worship creatures of the sea who have the magical abilities to walk upon land. I gazed upon one of these strange creatures myself, Your Grace. Dressed as one of the people’s football warriors, it walked among the people, delighting in their chants. Such a thing could only be the work of the devil. Oh, my King, how they need the help of the English people to turn them from their sinful ways and back into the arms of God.

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I now stand in a large stadium. Scholars might compare it to the once great Colosseum in Rome, for it is truly that large. I’ve come to watch warriors and heroes play in the mighty game of football. It is quite unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Though it is named “football”, they do not use their feet for anything but running and kicking the oddly shaped lump of calf skin. It’s barbaric, the way they fight each other on the green. Bodies clashing and heads colliding, they should be grateful their heads are covered, Your Grace. Moreover, the crowds revel in this obviously warlike behavior. And yet, there is never any death, and rarely injuries. Be it that the most illustrious king of England were to come to Ye Ole Miss, I do not believe he would find much resistance to his arrival.

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While I was surveying the land of this Grove and learning the ways of its strange and fascinating inhabitants, I witnessed the breadth of the Grove Squirrel’s attack. Nearby, under a flimsily hoisted red and blue tent, a lady sat with a flat paper dish on which she had placed her food. While it balanced atop her scantily clad knees, one of these dastardly Grove Squirrels pounced upon her and bit into the meat that sit there in her plate. The creature then dashed away at a speed that led me to wonder if these animals be not magical. If that be the case and these beasts be above our natural law, I shall also wonder, dear King, if they be not of an advantage to seize. Surely your Grace’s army may benefit of such animals to do the bidding of blows on a swifter foot than your soldiers’ already magnificent ability. And yet these creatures be fierce and wild, they would surely bow to your strength and command if they show retaliation. 

As I have said of Ireland, there be strange creatures there. If your Grace recalls, I once heard tale of a fish with three gold teeth. If you shall also remember, that fish foretold of England’s coming to the land. I dare say, good King, that these squirrels are not merely beastly coincidence. As we have tamed their kin in our land, so must we travel to this present land of Ye Ole Miss to conquer these people and their varmints.

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Wretched but Wondrous Creatures

Whilst I did take my journey through the Grove, I saw wondrous yet beastly creatures. They were small and hairy fiends, and by them, Your Grace, I was reminded of the squirrels that the lords and ladies are so keen to keep as pets in England. 

Though they be alike in tiny body, beady eye, and common name, our squirrels are much tamer and well-kept than these of Ye Ole Miss. They run wild and daring in attempt to steal what morsels be aplenty to them. If their quest be at the misfortune of the men and women of the Grove, it does not hinder these monsters from wreaking their savagery.

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I told one young man that I am from Wales, in the glorious kingdom of England, and he asked if I meant like the fish.

Intellectually, I am concerned for these strange folk of Ye Ole Miss, but I do not believe that they are beyond hope.

A young woman asked me if I was a “salesman for Vineyard Vines.” Though I knew not what it meant, she looked so hopeful that I could not let her down. Still, tis a sin to lie, so I merely said, “Perhaps.”

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Whilst I was stumbling about this swarm of people, I encountered a lovely young man by the name of Chad. Your Grace, you would not believe what he said to me. These are his very words, though, I confess, I know not what many of them mean.

“Bro, why are you wearing a dress?”

I assume he saw me as his brethren, which means that I am being accepted into their society.

I told him, “‘Tis not a dressing robe, young sir, but my robe.”

“But, man, it’s hot as Hell.”

I know not if his statement was fact, and I hope to never know, for I strive to be as good and pious as you, my king. I must admit, though, that the climate of Ye Ole Miss was unpleasantly warm.

“Come on,” Chad said to me. “We’ll get you a polo and some khakis.”

Most wondrous of items, these polos and khakis! The polo, a short tunic, was in the loveliest shade of blue, much like a clear sky. No artist in England has ever been able to capture such a shade. And the khakis, though they made me feel inappropriate, made the heat of Ye Ole Miss less stifling.

The hospitality of these people, though their ways are savage, is truly remarkable. They’d be wonderful subjects for the kingdom of England.

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Hordes! Hordes of people in this Grove! More people than any faire I have ever witnessed in all my years. It’s hardly a Grove at all. There is no grass, for it has all been trampled away. Mayhaps it would be a Grove if all the tents were replaced with trees, though then it would be more of a forest.

These people, how they take part in all manners of revelry at all hours of the day. Truly, Your Excellency, they are in need of guidance from a Good and Christian King.

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Dedicated to His Grace, King Henry II of England

Your Excellency, the most illustrious and holy King of the English and rightful King of the Irish,

Though I know not how nor why except only by the Grace of God, I have been sent to a far off land called Ye Ole Miss, where all manner of strange and wondrous things happen. Though I know it is hard for one to believe, for I myself had trouble understanding, this land is farther West than even the Ireland itself. The people here, mostly young men and women, have informed me that England is, indeed, to this East of us. More incredibly, they say that this is the two thousand and nineteenth Year of Our Lord. 

This land of Ye Ole Miss is truly most wondrous, though the people, much like the Irish, are in need of a guiding hand. Your Grace, I believe that these people are in vast need of English Guidance. I will be writing to you most forthcomingly to tell you about my learnings. One young woman of Ye Ole Miss, who had the most strange pink hair and wore men’s trousers, is teaching me how to use a computer and something that she called a website and a Tumbler.

 Alas, I must bid you Farewell until I am able to sit and write again, for the people of Ye Ole Miss are wanting me to partake in the strangest of rituals, which they call Game Day at the Grove.