A River Named Denial

(It’s not whether you win or lose, as long as you win)

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Now that the Presidential election is over, I think I’m going to move to Scotland. After all, all the smart, beautiful people are threatening to leave any America that has no Hillary at the helm, and they’re mostly heading for Canada. I want to be smart and beautiful, too…but with less pouting. So I’m thinking Scotland.

As we speak, vast migrating herds of pouting pundits and sullen celebrities are apparently about to descend on our northern neighbor, because all the smart, beautiful people are refusing to acknowledge the duly-elected President-elect. So they’re doing what adults have always done when outcomes don’t suit them: they stand in the street and pout. And then, for at least a week or two, they “threaten” to go somewhere else. I don’t know…maybe they think Hillary will run for President of Canada.

And knowing Hillary, she might. So, I’m thinking Scotland.

Scotland has always fascinated me, except for the golf part. I mean, overall, you have to admire any place that can combine bitter, biting cold, warriors without pants, Scotch whiskey, and bagpipes. And if you’ve ever stood around in a freezing fog, wearing no pants and listening to bagpipes, you begin to understand why they invented the Scotch.

I’ve personally never been to Scotland, because there’s flying involved. In fact, I don’t travel much, period, because travel usually requires airplanes, which require airports, which require airport security, which is possibly on hand to protect airport food, which can consist of chicken salad sandwiches that cost forty bucks. Besides, I find it hard to get excited about any trip that begins with getting pawed by a bored federal employee.

There are very few things I dislike more than flying; in fact, I can only think of two:

Geraldo Rivera
Flying next to Geraldo Rivera

As a rule, if I can’t get to some interesting place in my car, the place quickly gets much less interesting. But if moving to Scotland will make me part of the smart and beautiful set, I suppose I’ll have to adjust. Besides, Scotland’s done a lot more for us than just making Michigan seem temperate. William “Braveheart” Wallace was from Scotland, though he was eventually killed by the British for not wearing pants and painting his face blue. Sean Connery’s from Scotland, too, although he usually wears pants.

Mind you, it’s not all roses. Scotland also has something called “haggis,” which they claim with a straight face is food, even though haggis … and I quote … is made with the heart, liver and lungs of a sheep, boiled in its stomach.

And you thought airport food was bad.

But for a place without pants, Scotland has done its part in world history. Here are some other famous people from Scotland:

Robert the Bruce, a contemporary of Braveheart Wallace, fought for Scottish independence from England, a nation that spent centuries colonizing other countries in search of any interesting food. (Robert the Bruce is not to be confused with Robert the Burns, a poet who co-wrote Auld Lang Syne with Guy the Lombardo.)
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle gave the world detective Sherlock Holmes, but after about six stories with “oh, please” endings, the world gave him back.
In 1824, a Scot named Charles Macintosh invented the raincoat. Before 1824, whenever it rained people had to stay inside and eat haggis.
Alexander Graham Bell invented the first iPhone app, known as the “telephone.” Bell immediately dialed a random stranger’s phone number and asked her what she was wearing.
Sir Hugh Dalrymple (Lord Drummore) was also from Scotland. I have no idea who he is, but I never miss an opportunity to say “Dalrymple.”
James Watt invented steam, which eventually led to all that rush hour traffic in Atlanta.
The Loch Ness Monster is (or isn’t) from Scotland. Nessie’s not technically a person, but then neither is Geraldo Rivera. In a related story, a bagpipe is defined as “a large bag of air.”
Alexander Fleming was a botanist who discovered penicillin on some bread he forgot to throw out. Obviously, Al was a single guy.
David Hume was a “philosopher,” which is an old Scottish term meaning “unemployed.” According to the internet, Hume promoted a “radical philosophical empiricism,” which is the kind of thing that can happen when you don’t wear pants.