Creation Myths, Or: How It All Began

So, gentle readers (if you exist and/or are gentle), perhaps you are wondering: how did all this flag-tearing-down postulating begin?

And even if you’re not, we really want to tell you. This is a blog, after all. A shrine to our ongoing games of T.I.D (Tear It Down) and so much more - things pertinent and impertinent.

It all began in college (not that long ago, we swear). We - Liz and Cailey - had just finished dinner with a group of our female friends, all of whom were lamenting the general state of men(?) in their lives. These men(?) were not all romantic prospects or long-term lovers. 


It wasn't a case of this:

Or this:

Or even, heaven forfend, this:

More often than not, these were just our friends, or guys we interacted with in class and in our extracurricular duties. It wasn't that we didn't like them. Nine times out of ten we got on just fine and life continued as normal. But every so often they would do something so inane, so petulant, so absolutely antithetical to the personae they foisted on us women in their lives ("I am smart man, I am strong man, I am alpha man - GRRRRRR - you want me, you want me, you want me to want you") that we couldn't help but narrow our eyes at them and say "Bitch, please.” At that dinner, we girls felt like we were...maybe...the only women who saw past their carefully cultivated, self-aggrandizing, ego-tastic, fake exteriors. How could they pull the wool over other girls' eyes so effortlessly? We saw them for who they really were...and it was not so heroic, nor was it particularly "masculine."


Being inclined to further discussion of this pertinent topic and loathe to return to our studies, we - Liz and Cailey - decided to continue expressing our outrage over some of the men(?) discussed, guys who shamelessly utilized the tactics like these then came over to our dorms to discuss the results with us. Guys who turned affection on and off like a hot-water tap for the sake of getting what they wanted from women. It was not always sex. Quite frequently, it was things like paper editing for free, parts in plays, publication in college papers, coffee during study breaks (bitch, make me a sandwich? bitch, get me a cup of joe?) and a shoulder to cry on at 3am when he was suddenly overwhelmed by how much suffering there was in the world.

Cailey [suddenly exclaiming]: You know what we need more of? Captain Von Trapp! THAT’S WHO. We need men who will see that Nazi flag and tear. that. shit. down. These guys wouldn’t tear down a Nazi flag if it sharted on their thick skulls.

Liz [who knew exactly what Cailey was referring to – that’s why we’re friends]: I mean, seriously, they would be too concerned with how their hair looked while they were tearing it down more than the need to destroy the symbol. Vanity would trump heroism. In half a heartbeat...

Cailey: I mean, take Mr. S*...

Liz: Lordy.

Cailey: What the hell would he do if he were faced with a Nazi flag hanging from his schloss?

Liz: It would probably take him a while to even notice it.

Cailey: Because he’d be gazing at himself in a mirror. But once he did, he’d probably cry dramatically at how awful it was. How he never thought he'd see the day, and blah, blah, blah...

Liz: But it wouldn't be authentic emotion. It would be a show for onlookers.

Cailey: Then he'd smoke some pot...

Liz: Write an eloquent (but not as eloquent as he thinks it is) and angrily-worded essay about it and annoy us until we read it and told him he was God's gift to both prose and women.

Cailey: All the while stoned to the gills.
Liz: And then drink until he blacked out. Then he would hook up with some rando to make himself feel better about his prowess.

Cailey: Maybe…but he’d probably just forget about all of it and fall asleep. And wake up the next day and pretend it never happened.

Liz: But you know who would tear down the flag? And look foxy doing it, too?

Cailey: Who?

Liz: Joss Whedon

Cailey: Yes! Especially if he’s rocking his sexy, disheveled strike-beard!

Liz: I mean, let's put Joss in that scene from The Sound of Music. Epic Mashup. What would he do in that situation? He would tear it down, no questions asked.

Cailey: Well...he wouldn’t be as immediately decisive as the Captain. He’s a writer, not a “big naval hero.” But he would, after gaping for a moment in horror, definitely have a pithy but situation-appropriate remark.

Liz: I don't know if there is a pithy remark appropriate to this situation. But if there is, Joss will find it. And, immediately after that, unhesitatingly jump to tear down the flag.

Cailey: But he can’t reach it!

Liz: His masculine, heroic moment is thwarted by his pesky humanity getting in the way. He is, after all, only a man.

Cailey: But not to fear – he is man enough to admit when he needs help. Unlike almost everyone we know.

Liz: So he immediately calls Cai, his wife.

Cailey: Who is, I think, also a little taller than Joss.
Liz: And perhaps he calls in his own personal cavalry. He's got an army of loyal friends. David Boreanaz and Nathan Fillion are, of course, captains of that army. And they are both definitely taller than Joss.
Cailey: But before they arrive at the scene of the crime, Joss and Cai have finished the job.
Liz: In race David and Nathan as Joss stands there holding the flag with two fingers the way one would a filthy rag.
Cailey: Nathan in his Mal Reynolds Captain tightpants and David in his Angel leather duster.

Liz: Thus making the whole scene epically hotter. Like, the men of our dreams, hotter.
Cailey: And Joss drops the flag on the ground below. They all regard it disdainfully for thirty whole seconds before they all take turns stomping on it. It's almost like a tribal dance.
Liz: Once pulverized, the tattered remains of the flag are burned, buried, or otherwise disposed of. Or they send it to the douches at Fox who canceled Firefly.
Cailey: No, Joss is far too magnanimous to send someone a Nazi flag in the mail. Even if it is Fox.
Liz: True. He abides by the rules of chivalry. One of the last living ambassadors of the courteous age.
Cailey: sigh

Liz: And together, united as one, not afraid to call for backup, certain of their mission and the justness of their cause, Joss & co. TORE IT DOWN!
Cailey: I think that’s a tear I’m wiping from my face. Or maybe some stray sauce from that pizza we just ate.

And thus was born a glorious game, tradition, what you will. One of both censure and celebration – neither, perhaps authentic.

But both deeply gratifying. And extremely fun.
 

*Some names have been altered to protect privacy