Tuesday

Miss America was last night. I watch beauty pageants because of family. I mean, of course, my bride, whose infectious love of pageantry has, over the years, swayed me. By now I look forward to these shows. I also look forward to yet another drinking game. Want to play by our rules? Then you'll have to drink beer every time someone uses a euphemism about religion or evokes peace. You will have to drink whenever feathers are worn, anyone stumbles physically or verbally, or the emcee alludes to how beautiful just everybody is. Drinkers select a contestant, usually representative of respective home states (or someplace we really love if that state is already taken). I start with North Carolina. Whenever my player does something ridiculous--wears the ugliest dress, sings a tremulous aria--I have to drink. Whenever my contestant does something great--makes a funny face, tap dances to Prince--everyone else has to drink. When my candidate washes out at the semi- or finalist level, I drink. If she makes it, others drink. Thus roped into starting with my particular home-Miss, it's normal that I have to choose a new player when she later washes out. This was the first time, recently, I've also had to choose a new Miss at the finalist level. Even Sunshine had three different players during last night's pageant. Usually I think the Hawaiian Miss steals the contest, but it was stolen from her tonight. In rapid succession it was also stolen from Misses Mississippi, Georgia, and Texas. We graduated to real liquor for the finals: tablespoons of ten-year Old Rip Van Winkle Kentucky sour mash flowed in protest. Everyone picks on beauty pageant contestants for being dumb, but Jeez Louise is there ever a new limbo bar for the judges. [Cavin]