NASCAR Ain't PC

For 51 weeks a year I'm a frustrated teeth-gnasher buried under the poltically-correct garbage spewed forth by my former colleagues in the mainstream media.

It's the 52nd week that I live for, my opportunity to don my No.20 Tony Stewart cap and join 160,000 other souls for a taste of real freedom. It's NASCAR weekend in Las Vegas (March 9-11) and it's an orgy of everything that makes America great.

For the uninitiated, NASCAR is not just 43 cars making constant left turns. It's a happening, drenched in God, Country and Capitalism. It's our opportunity to rub it in the faces of the socialist PC crowd and rub it in we do. NASCAR is loud, pungent and exhilarating. The snowy plovers, fairy shrimp or spotted owls who may have inhabited Southern Nevada are of no concern. It's all about the two miles of high-banked pavement and who can travel 500 miles in the least amount of time.

NASCAR is a celebration of engineering and ingenuity, when we used to build great things and feel good about ourselves. So what if every racecar is covered with decals marketing everything from beer to floor coverings. Marketing is about capitalism and capitalism is one of the cornerstones of this great country.

Another cornerstone is our faith. Every NASCAR race opens with a prayer - to God. Yes, that God. And people actually remove their caps and are respectful. The prayer is followed by a collective "Amen."

Then it's the National Anthem, usually performed by a recording artist that we've actually heard of. The military personnel in attendance - NASCAR celebrates the military so there are always GIs on hand at every race - salute smartly during the anthem.

About the time the performer hits "...home of the brave," a formation of military aircraft performs a low flyover, sending the fans into a frenzy.

Las Vegas Motor Speedway sits adjacent to the runways of Nellis Air Force Base, home of the Thunderbirds, the U.S. Air Force's Flight Demonstration Team. The Thunderbirds typically do the fly-over for Sunday's ceremonies at the speedway, but those fans who opt to spend the whole weekend at the track are apt to see a copy of every type of aircraft in the U.S. arsenal.

Despite seeing my first B-2 stealth bomber in person on Saturday two years ago while I was sitting in the stands at LVMS, my hands-down favorite aircraft for sheer audacity is the B-1B. Like Rosie, it's big and loud, but unlike the obnoxious TV host, the B1B manages to be beautiful at the same time. What makes it special is that the socialists in Congress tried to abort it, but it survived to fight for freedom.

Once the trappings of the pre-race events are stowed, the Grand Marshal of the event intones, "Gentlemen, start your engines." That and the green-flag start of the race are two of the most decibel straining events in the history of man. Television does not do it justice. It makes your hair stand on end. It really is that loud. As the 43 cars take the green flag and speed into turn one, I raise my fist and shout, "Up yours Al Gore."

The intellectuals on both the right and the left in America often look down their noses at NASCAR Nation, but as I discovered several years ago, these are my people. They are direct descendants of the dreamers, builders and warriors who let nothing stand in their way to offer me what I have today.

To borrow the words of Gen. George Patton, "God I love it so."
For 51 weeks a year I'm a frustrated teeth-gnasher buried under the poltically-correct garbage spewed forth by my former colleagues in the mainstream media.

It's the 52nd week that I live for, my opportunity to don my No.20 Tony Stewart cap and join 160,000 other souls for a taste of real freedom. It's NASCAR weekend in Las Vegas (March 9-11) and it's an orgy of everything that makes America great.

For the uninitiated, NASCAR is not just 43 cars making constant left turns. It's a happening, drenched in God, Country and Capitalism. It's our opportunity to rub it in the faces of the socialist PC crowd and rub it in we do. NASCAR is loud, pungent and exhilarating. The snowy plovers, fairy shrimp or spotted owls who may have inhabited Southern Nevada are of no concern. It's all about the two miles of high-banked pavement and who can travel 500 miles in the least amount of time.

NASCAR is a celebration of engineering and ingenuity, when we used to build great things and feel good about ourselves. So what if every racecar is covered with decals marketing everything from beer to floor coverings. Marketing is about capitalism and capitalism is one of the cornerstones of this great country.

Another cornerstone is our faith. Every NASCAR race opens with a prayer - to God. Yes, that God. And people actually remove their caps and are respectful. The prayer is followed by a collective "Amen."

Then it's the National Anthem, usually performed by a recording artist that we've actually heard of. The military personnel in attendance - NASCAR celebrates the military so there are always GIs on hand at every race - salute smartly during the anthem.

About the time the performer hits "...home of the brave," a formation of military aircraft performs a low flyover, sending the fans into a frenzy.

Las Vegas Motor Speedway sits adjacent to the runways of Nellis Air Force Base, home of the Thunderbirds, the U.S. Air Force's Flight Demonstration Team. The Thunderbirds typically do the fly-over for Sunday's ceremonies at the speedway, but those fans who opt to spend the whole weekend at the track are apt to see a copy of every type of aircraft in the U.S. arsenal.

Despite seeing my first B-2 stealth bomber in person on Saturday two years ago while I was sitting in the stands at LVMS, my hands-down favorite aircraft for sheer audacity is the B-1B. Like Rosie, it's big and loud, but unlike the obnoxious TV host, the B1B manages to be beautiful at the same time. What makes it special is that the socialists in Congress tried to abort it, but it survived to fight for freedom.

Once the trappings of the pre-race events are stowed, the Grand Marshal of the event intones, "Gentlemen, start your engines." That and the green-flag start of the race are two of the most decibel straining events in the history of man. Television does not do it justice. It makes your hair stand on end. It really is that loud. As the 43 cars take the green flag and speed into turn one, I raise my fist and shout, "Up yours Al Gore."

The intellectuals on both the right and the left in America often look down their noses at NASCAR Nation, but as I discovered several years ago, these are my people. They are direct descendants of the dreamers, builders and warriors who let nothing stand in their way to offer me what I have today.

To borrow the words of Gen. George Patton, "God I love it so."