Dear Oreginians

(Monday August 25, 2008)
You dwell in a land that might just as easily be known as Loserdom for the fools that dwell there. Your obsession over the correct pronuncation of your states name makes you look like a five-year-old on a temper tantrum because he got a red bike for his birthday instead of an orange one.

Take for example the conversation I had with a quite attractive older woman from Portland when I was in Trout Lake. I was in the middle of telling her that Oregon was my favorite part of the trip thus far, that Crater Lake was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen in my life, that Ashland and Bend were awesome towns, etc., etc. I'm sitting there telling her how great her state is and how much I would enjoy going back and she's completely deaf to it because I say Ore-gone.

You see dear Oreginians, not everyone pronounces your state name Ore-gin and like myself they say Ore-gone. Now, even though I believe this is a myth and that not a single person from New Jersey has ever pronounced our state name New Joisey, I don't treat people who make that awful joke like infants by giving them an impromptu speech therapy lesson while they're trying to speak.

My Oreginians, you may not realize it, but talking over someone by continually repeating "Ore-gin" like drunken parrots when they say Ore-gone is fucking rude. As most people learn back when they're two, it's not nice to interrupt others when they're talking. You know, that whole common decency thing.

Just as it annoys you to hear Ore-gone, gentle Oreginians, it annoys the absolute crap out of me to know that someone has ceased listening to you and will chant "Ore-gin...Ore-gin...Ore-gin...Ore-gin" until you acknowledge that you aren't using the preferred pronunciation and then make a faux apology or some terrible joke about being from the east coast. So I've come to just ignore your brainwashing actions and continue on with my line of speech as if you guys weren't making fools out of yourselves.

But I don't like this Oreginians. You are enjoyable people except for your one shitty habit and I like meeting and talking with you guys as well as travelling in your beautiful state. Not to mention all of the days during my youth spent caulking and floating my wagon across rivers, hunting the wilderness to extinction and having my family die of typhoid on the Oregon Trail. You've just got to give it a rest.

Nobody wants to hear your bullshit. It's a case of tomato and tomahto. Even though no one says tomahto, who gives a shit if they do? One of your fool citizens tried to get back at me by saying New Hersey when asking where I was from. Aside from revealing that he lacked a sense of humor, he also insulted my character by thinking that I would care about something so insignificant (if he really wanted to get me going, he could try convincing me that the Green Mile was a good movie). During this whole process, he made me start to think that Oreginians are the poor man's missionaries of the world, out to convince a people that don't want to be convinced about something that they can live just fine without.

Just stop. No one cares but you and the fact that you try and try and try just makes you look like buffoons.

Here's a scenario I can picture coming true: It's the year 2091. The world is suffering from the ravages of a terrible epidemic that threatens to end human existence on Earth. A scientist researching natural medicines of the Ore-gone wilderness discovers a cure for the evil disease, the ground roots of a native plant. He proceeds to administer the medicine to a few test subjects who are miraculously cured. He immediately goes to the closest town, a tiny hamlet in central Ore-gone where he gathers a crowd around and begins telling them of his discovery. He asks for their assistance in gathering more of the root. But he begins with the fateful words..."People of Ore-gone!" Then the chant begins.