We knew it. My beloved hens foretold a draw vs. Atlanta but included a caveat that, should our missing defenders make it onto the pitch, all bets are off. They came in and they spanked those several striped players. Lest you think, gentle reader, that this column is just some silly pasquinade,
you should rest comfortably that we (my beloved hens and I) take our roles seriously and soberly.
While thinking such thoughts, I turned to my lovelies and reminded them of how to take in our upcoming match vs. Houston. Wolfie turned to me. Being a highly trained augur, I felt she was wanting to tell me something. I intuited what she wanted to know: a simple comparison of Houston and Austin.
I was stunned by this inquiry. But, I remembered Wolfie’s lineage: she descends from an elegant and stately line of Fighting Blue Hens from Delaware. More elite than Joe Flacco.
She doesn’t feel Texas like the rest of us. No worries. We can bring her up to speed.
Have a seat, Wolfie. Let’s learn.
Austin was founded in 1839 when Texas (then a country) wanted a place that was strategically placed for commerce and also possessed natural beauty.
Houston was founded in 1836. The speculators, who had bought the land, lied in the papers about it, advertising it was a land of milk and honey when it was a swamp of mosquitos and disease. Almost immediately, yellow fever ravaged the city and killed a large portion of its inhabitants.
Point: Austin
Let’s turn to music, Wolfie. Both cities have great histories here. Houston has that Little Ol’ Band from Texas, ZZ Top
Austin has SRV.
Wolfie wasn’t able to make a choice, so we went more recent in our music. From Houston, the Queen herself.
From Austin, the Black Pumas.
Point: begrudgingly, Houston.
Let’s move on to natural beauty of the place. I showed Wolfie a typical Houston vista:
And Austin:
Point: Austin, by a country mile
Wolfie looked at me as if to ask about transportation networks. Odd, but ok. Houston has infinite miles of concrete and asphalt. Austin has an evil highway.
Point: As if one even needs to ask. Austin.
That sealed the deal for Wolfie. She rightfully now understands that Austin far outpaces the Space City.
We then turn to the reason why the hens and I go together so well, like mac and cheese, like peas and carrots, like the Captain and Tennille. Time to choose a winner in our upcoming fixture. I reverently cover my head with my scratchy, woolen robes, scatter the ethically-sourced pelleted feed and observe the hens. San Julius gobbles the victuals down and bounds thrice to the right. Wolfie stares at the remnants and haggardly moves to the left.
Yes, my dears. I understand.
El FC 3-1 Petrochem Dynamo
Louis de Ludovico
Viewing McKalla as his personal empire, Louis lives for the beautiful game. And food. Especially flamingo tongues. A chicken savant.
1 thought on “Don’t Know Much About History”