Perspectives on American Culture from a Resident of Hypothetica

Today--or rather, tonight--I witnessed an event in this culture unlike any other I have seen yet this year. It was a night of passion, of intrigue, of bravery, and I hasten to record the event before it slips from my mind.

The actual proceedings took place in a far-off land, forcing those of us who could not find the time or the expense to travel to observe the event via a remote-signalling device that transmits images in real-time. In anticipation of the event, many families apparently invite their friends to observe the actions with them, in a sort of communal gathering. This is why, when I stepped into the home, I was not surprised to find many people wandering around, priming their palates with small morsels of food. Eventually, though, everyone gravitated towards the room in which the remote signalling device was given a central position, and settled into long, comfortable chairs to watch.

The event opened with a finely-garbed woman, presumably a high priestess, standing on a dais and leading the hosts in song as acrobats in brightly-colored clothes flipped and spun their way through intricate patterns and musicians dressed as warriors marched in formation across the open field, playing military beats on percussion instruments. This went on for some time, until the high priestess took her leave and an elderly man replaced her, seating himself before a musical instrument. He led the spectators in singing a song of obvious significance, probably a call to worship. While he sang, each member of the crowd placed his or her hand over his or her heart, a position of supplication to the gods, I presume. When the song ended the worshippers broke into cheers, waving pennants and smiling joyously.

Then there was a rumble of anticipation as many warriors in full armor burst from the catacombs beneath the place of worship and ran out into the field, waving and jumping up and down. After some time another group of warriors wearing different markings issued from openings on the other side of the field, and milled about on their own sides and discussed with each other the upcoming events. I began to suspect that there would be a re-enactment or representation of some past event, probably to do with a battle between the forces of Good and the forces of Evil, for one phalanx was clad in white and blue, and the other in black and gold, a traditional use of coloration to distinguish between Good and Bad.

Eventually the two sides met in the middle of the field (the acrobats and the priests having vacated the area) and conversed with several subdeacons, each dressed in distinctive black-and-white garments (probably to distinguish their ethereal position as mediators between Good and Evil). Each group of warriors put forward a representative, who met with the subdeacon in the center of the field. The subdeacon produced a coin of little value, muttered a few words over it, and tossed it heavenward, probably an offering to the gods. As it flew through the air, one representative of the warriors uttered a supplication. The response from the gods was obviously favorable, for his team was allowed to begin the conflict by means of propelling a ball as far down the field as possible, from the Good side towards the Bad warriors. I assumed the ball was some sort of weapon, but the Bad side caught it and ran as hard as they could towards the forces of Good, who did their utmost to slow him down but he succeeded in breaking through their ranks and running into an area that clearly represented some sort of stronghold, or fort. The forces of Evil had won, or so I thought, and was wondering what sort of worship this was, when the warriors lined up to repeat the procedure. I then came to understand that this was not a short event, but rather a representation of a series of battles, and--as is so often the case--Evil had shed first blood.

The conflicts went on for some time, occasionally requiring intervention from the subdeacons, presumably when details were left out or introduced in the wrong order. After a while both phalanxes exited the field and a stage was constructed in the shape of an enormous symbol, a symbol that was displeasing to my eyes and made me uneasy at heart. A man emerged onto the stage and began to play an instrument and sing; I was later able to learn that this was the people's Prince, and that it was a priviledge for him to be able to perform at this fuction. His performace lasted a short while and was accompanied by flashes of light and fire that unnerved me. Finally he left to general enthusiasm from the crowd, and I wondered what kind of people this was, who so praised a leader who seemed so affiliated with the Darkness.

The conflicts resumed shortly after this and lasted again for some time, and it was clear that the forces of Evil were losing ground fast. Their warriors made comical mistakes, dropping the ball or throwing it in the wrong direction, and the forces of Good made short work of them in the end. To my surprise there was no closing convocation, no priestly dismissal, although the forces of Good selected two of their members to anoint their general with sweet oil. Clearly the right people had won, for there was great rejoicing, in the home where I was as well as on the field.

I was later told that the fuction was of no religious significance whatsoever; instead it was a sport played for amusement, and this event was called the "Bowl of Superiority," or simply "Super-Bowl". I refuse to believe it. No sport that I know of requires dietary restrictions on the part of its observers, who in this instance ate nothing but bird wings and a flat pie of some fashion, and who drank only drinks which fizzed and made my stomach react unpleasantly. I know a religious observance when I see it.