Hot hot breaking news! I recently learned from a TV-loving co-worker that while I had my nose buried in books this spring, a boy from my hometown, David Archuleta, has become a national celebrity via the fifteen minutes of fame machine that is American Idol.
Murray, Utah. Now that's where I'm really from. It's kind of weird hearing Murray referenced by a colleague who has only known of this strip mall and golf course paradise from national media. What's most delightful in this cheesy hometown news is that my dad's cousin, the mayor, is milking it for all it's worth. (That's right folks, I'm distantly related to the mayor of Small Town, USA. Jealous much?) Nice handlebars, Dan! Apparently when you knocked down the iconic smokestacks in 2000, you also destroyed any poetic sensibility the town might have ever had. Seriously, that "official Murray poem" (a video is embedded in that first link to the Salt Lake Tribune) is absolutely wretched. Intentionally bad poetry is a winning political strategy where I'm from. Hillary, get out your rhyming dictionary and you still may nab this nomination.
But I digress. Watching my distant blood relatives with whom I once shared a name behave ridiculously on television and the Interwebs is greatly amusing. More enjoyable, even, than when folks e-mailed to ask if I was related to that random Snarr dude they read about in the New York Times last year. (The answer is quite probably yes.)
Watch this video, folks. Because this is where I am from. You can't make this shit up.
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