First impressions through a distorted lens
As a Trained Observer Of The Human Condition I continue to pursue my epic quest to expose obscure and exotic places, cultures and customs to my legions of fans, admirers and, yes, even detractors.
Thus is was that, on my way to Canada to avoid having to share the 4th with 47, I stumbled across a primative tribe known as Harrisburgers.
So named after Richard Harris of ‘Man In The Wilderness’ and ‘A Man Called Horse’ fame.
Or Harrison Ford, of Indiana Jones fame. Not sure which.
Most of you, understandably, have never heard of Harrisburg. Hard up against Pennsylvania’s Susquehanna River (which, freely translated, means River That Nobody Can Spell) it is an obscure place indeed.
If you’ve heard of it at all it’s probably because Harrisburg is right down the road from the Internationally Celebrated City of Lancaster.
Internationally Celebrated as the city of my birth.
Oh, and Harrisburg is also the state capital, if that helps ring a bell. And from my brief exploration the city’s got a thing about painted cows.
Nobody knows why this is so. I can only assume cow painting is some sort of primitive ritual handed down by the early Amish tribes that settled here centuries before the Mayflower dropped anchor.
Harrisburg is festooned with street signs that harken back to antiquity. For instance, BlackBerry St., named after a primative device that gained some popularity before the IPhone came along.
It’s also just next door to Hershey, to whence chocolate cultists pilgrimage in great numbers to ritualistically exchange tin foil Kisses and ride roller coasters.
How primitive is Harrisburg?
Unlike we savvy “right to work but no right to be represented at work” Floridians, they still think labor unions are a good thing. And they apparently have some pretty severe taboos against scabs…whatever the hell those are.
Oh, and they have a classic YMCA that was cool even before the Village People were cool.
Harrisburg is a very good place to go when you want to…
…oh, I dunno…
…reflect on life, the universe and everything.
To appease the Electric Gods they paint their utility boxes in garish colors.
And they erect grotesque totems on the shore to keep the Susquehanna from rising up out of its banks.
This is Ron Cunningham and I went to Harrisburg so you don’t have to.
No, don’t thank me. It’s my job.
FreeGNV 