Sunday, December 28, 2008

ALABAMA: We Dare Defend Our Partying Rights

Alabama’s state flag functions as a public service. To any who wonder, “should I go to Alabama?” the answer is clearly labeled in unforgiving, crimson fabric. If you have to question whether or not you want Alabama, then Alabama sure as shit doesn’t want you.

A field of white is broken by the compelling red cross. Are they lines, radiating outwards to the corners, performing a vast diaspora of pigment? No, this is this not an egress, but a return. The eye is drawn to the center of the flag, where an optical illusion occurs. Stare at the flag long enough and you’ll see a smaller, pinkish cross in the middle of the red one. At the central point where they converge is a sharp red square. The Alabama state flag has served a second purpose; a warning.

Years before the cold war the intuitive Alabamans, with the help of their official* state hallucinogenic moonshine, intuited the soviet threat. Hence the sickly, pink cross. Two hundred years before the eventual Borg invasion, the Alabamans divined the occurrence, and attempted to warn the rest of the union through whatever means necessary, including the insertion of an eerie, ghost like cube in the middle of their flag.Needless to say, their message was over looked, thanks to institutions like the accursed NAVA, and their short sighted** Vexillological philosophies.


* Although the nicknameless state has refused to adopt a nickname, they have followed in the footsteps of the pop star and native non-Alabaman Prince in adopting an unpronounceable glyph as the stand in for a functioning nickname. The glyph was also inspired by excessive consumption of moonshine, and it is said that drinking enough of the liquor while saying ALABAMA backwards at a mirror can induce a crimson tide.


** Our arch-nemesis’ fixation on conventional flag formatting led many of their members to myopia, caused by examining individual threads for instances of color bleeding. Perhaps this explains their perplexing inclusion of the District of Columbia’s eerily Mayor McCheese-esque entry into their top ten.

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