Ep 32 - Trite & Overly Morose
SK Morton is a legend. In his lifetime he has created a myth of what a poor girl from a deprived background could attain. For the entire world he has become a symbol of the eternal abrasive. But we have no words to describe this myth. No one really knows this SK.
Instead, the gathered Throng only knows the SK that hates banana and believes that pineapple is a dish best served cold. Impulsive and shy, sensitive and in fear of dinosaurs, yet ever avid for a sad monkey that doesn't exist and reaching out for Christmas lights in the Hyatt Regency atrium.
We should not insult the privacy of those in the bomb shelter - a privacy SK sought and treasured in the Palace Hotel restrooms - by trying to describe the likes of Resident Chanteur, Pete Feliciano; SK's cerebrum, KS; and Pete's squeeze, Lizzie Karr whom you know to you who know them.
In our memories of Kenny Stabler and the Raiders, SK remains a rabid fan, not just a glare in the night from a rabid coyote. In SK's memories, stories of peculiar ways of turning things around so that old men can not find their ordure, bombs are for the poor, real guns over plastic are more pure, bound for Korea with a duty tour, pain during a time of leisure, a minor saloon entrepreneur, and confusion of whether to pay the check or look for a cure - We will say au revoir.
Fearless Leaders for the Raider Nation.