© 2003 Brian Hodges - Please do not remove the copyright from this essay

et's review what we've learned thus far from the war:

#1: War does not unfold in Reality-TV time, so the twenty-four hour constant coverage by six news networks makes for a lot of downtime.

#2: Networks have to fill that downtime anyway they can, with any story that sounds like it might be true, so it's generally best to avoid information that's less than a week old.

#3: The Iraqi information minister must be an absolute riot when he's loaded.

#4: There are apparently some very specific criteria you must follow in order to be considered "American." For instance, it is un-American to oppose the war, unless you footnote your opposition with support for the troops, at which point you are American. That is, of course, unless you lie down in the middle of a city street, which is un-American… except that you are utilizing your fundamental right to protest, which is American… unless you're a celebrity (or a loudmouthed nobody receiving an Academy Award) and are using your elevated position to encourage un-American viewpoints… except that your free speech and ability to disagree are the best things about being American. Then again, many people who were very American died to give you those rights, so you should actually just shut up and appreciate them without actually using them, because that is un-American. But once again, footnoting your opposing viewpoints with "But, I support the troops" makes you American yet again.

#5: All the rules and caveats in point #4 are null and void if you are a Dixie Chick.

For a guy, listening to the Dixie Chicks is like wearing a pink shirt. You have to be pretty darn comfortable in your own sexuality. But, I never cared what anybody thought. I was ready to marry all three of them the moment I heard lead singer Natalie Maines belt out Tonight the Heartache's On Me in that whisky-and-velvet voice of hers. So after seeing the Chicks' albums desecrated, and their names taken in vain by angry Southerners, I decided that it was time to take a stand for the women I loved.

I boarded a plane bound for Louisville, Kentucky armed with all three of my Dixie Chicks CD's. Technically, I was there doing work for the Kentucky Derby, but that was just my job. My mission was quite different. Louisville, after all, is a city whose residents demanded the removal of everything Chick-related from their airwaves following Maines' now infamous "We're ashamed the President is from Texas" remark. Well if the people of Louisville were ready to exercise their American right to boycott, I was ready to exercise my American right to play the Dixie Chicks as loud as possible before the speakers exploded.

I upgraded my economy rental car to a convertible with a CD player. I drove all over Louisville, windows open and the top rolled down, inundating the streets with the sounds of the Dixie Chicks singing about whores, heartbreaks, murdered ex-husbands and wide-open spaces - everything that America stands for.

Some scoffed. Some spit. Some tried to steal my wallet. Well, that's what would have happened had I pulled this stunt in New York. Unfortunately, Louisville isn't much of a walker's city. The biggest response I got all weekend was from some homeboy in the car next to mine cranking up 50 Cent and drowning me out completely.

I was often tempted to quit, just wanting to hear Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, or even Barry Manilow - anything but another round of Long Time Gone, Goodbye Earl and Sin Wagon. But the hardest challenge I faced was that of my own fear. Fear that my message was falling on deaf ears. Fear that my message was causing deaf ears - namely my own.

But eventually, the people just couldn't ignore what I had to say. They started lashing back with slogans like, "Do you have any idea what time it is!" and "This is a one-way street moron!" Fueled by their resistance, I redoubled my efforts.

By my last day in town, the message had been delivered. The radio stations still weren't playing anything by the Dixie Chicks, but the polls were showing that only sixty-five percent of the locals still thought it was a good idea to strap Natalie Maines to a bomb and drop her on Iraq. Now, if that isn't the epitome of "American" I don't know what is.