Altoona
A Brief History of Altoona, PA
In approximately 1500 AD, a small group within the Cherokee group of native Americans decided to split off from the main tribe. Led by a grumbly old man named Wears-Tube-Socks and his wife, Pale Fish, they were dissatisfied with the direction of current Cherokee culture and felt the time had come to form their own settlement. This small group was of the opinion that Cherokee food of the time was far too spicy and tasteful, and the clothing too colorful. Complete blandness was their raison d'etre, and so off they journeyed into the unforgiving wilderness. For five full years, this rogue band of malcontents roamed the pristine Pennsylvania landscape until they found the perfect spot: A lush, verdant valley filled with abundant wildlife, cool streams, and several Sheetz markets convenient to their location. It was here that they would forge their new lives. They promptly named the area "Altoona," which, in their language, means "the parking lot between two mountains."
Here, under the unremarkable leadership of Wears-Tube-Socks and his descendants, Still-Drives-A-Camaro and Mullet-Head, the new tribe flourished. They called themselves The Hibachis. They spoke little of interesting things and enjoyed many a potluck. They feared strangers and had no particular desire to explore. In fact, they had no desire to know anything new, ever.
Then, in1821, a band of weary prospectors arrived in Altoona. The Hibachis had never seen the white man before, but found them wholly uninteresting. The white men attempted to befriend the tribe, but the natives would only grunt and blink. It seemed, at this point, that they had completely lost the ability to communicate, at all. The new arrivals were most amazed to find that the tribe existed on a diet consisting of bologna, toast, and miniature cocktail wieners, and spent every evening wordlessly staring at each other. Undaunted but slightly freaked out, the prospectors set up camp and began their quest for fortune.
One day, as the prospectors toiled away, something amazing happened. One of them, a small man named Joe Whitebread, stumbled upon the richest vein of Pork Rinds ever discovered in the New World. News spread quickly and the area was immediately overrun by pioneers with big dreams and loud corporate rock music. It was only then that the Hibachis began to take notice.
One of the daughters of Mullet-Head, a wide woman named Sits-On-A-Barcolounger, went to her father with great concern. She managed to communicate to him, with small grunts and pops, that she was afraid that the white men would somehow manage to take away all of the pork rinds, and leave them with nothing. Mullet-Head agreed that something had to be done.
Mullet-Head went out among the whites and reluctantly learned the barest modicum of social skills. He began to interact with the whites and soon found that they were weak, and hell-bent on taking away every last pork rind. Mullet-Head tried to explain his tribe's dependence upon The Great Rind Vein, or in his language, "El Nino", but the whites were unsympathetic. "When we arrived, yunz showed us no friendship, no hospitality. Now we will take your pork."
And thus began the Great Lard War of 1825.
The war was neither long nor bloody, as the natives really didn't give a shit. Not when there was such good TV. Even Mullet-Head soon lost interest and went back to his regular routine of picking his nose while he watched Starsky and Hutch. Sits-On-A-Barcolounger had found true love in the backseat of a TransAm and no longer cared much for war.
Eventually, the races began to mix, all animosity forgotten. The settlers took on many of the slovenly ways of the Hibachis, including their strange grunting language, and the Hibachis were really diggin' on Styx.
The new town moved forward, in this way. Few outsiders dared venture into the scary land and so it is to this day. The culture remains a mix of The Hibachi Tradition and the followers of Joe Whitebread. English is no longer spoken, but is sung in the town's anthem, "Carry On, My Wayward Son."
In approximately 1500 AD, a small group within the Cherokee group of native Americans decided to split off from the main tribe. Led by a grumbly old man named Wears-Tube-Socks and his wife, Pale Fish, they were dissatisfied with the direction of current Cherokee culture and felt the time had come to form their own settlement. This small group was of the opinion that Cherokee food of the time was far too spicy and tasteful, and the clothing too colorful. Complete blandness was their raison d'etre, and so off they journeyed into the unforgiving wilderness. For five full years, this rogue band of malcontents roamed the pristine Pennsylvania landscape until they found the perfect spot: A lush, verdant valley filled with abundant wildlife, cool streams, and several Sheetz markets convenient to their location. It was here that they would forge their new lives. They promptly named the area "Altoona," which, in their language, means "the parking lot between two mountains."
Here, under the unremarkable leadership of Wears-Tube-Socks and his descendants, Still-Drives-A-Camaro and Mullet-Head, the new tribe flourished. They called themselves The Hibachis. They spoke little of interesting things and enjoyed many a potluck. They feared strangers and had no particular desire to explore. In fact, they had no desire to know anything new, ever.
Then, in1821, a band of weary prospectors arrived in Altoona. The Hibachis had never seen the white man before, but found them wholly uninteresting. The white men attempted to befriend the tribe, but the natives would only grunt and blink. It seemed, at this point, that they had completely lost the ability to communicate, at all. The new arrivals were most amazed to find that the tribe existed on a diet consisting of bologna, toast, and miniature cocktail wieners, and spent every evening wordlessly staring at each other. Undaunted but slightly freaked out, the prospectors set up camp and began their quest for fortune.
One day, as the prospectors toiled away, something amazing happened. One of them, a small man named Joe Whitebread, stumbled upon the richest vein of Pork Rinds ever discovered in the New World. News spread quickly and the area was immediately overrun by pioneers with big dreams and loud corporate rock music. It was only then that the Hibachis began to take notice.
One of the daughters of Mullet-Head, a wide woman named Sits-On-A-Barcolounger, went to her father with great concern. She managed to communicate to him, with small grunts and pops, that she was afraid that the white men would somehow manage to take away all of the pork rinds, and leave them with nothing. Mullet-Head agreed that something had to be done.
Mullet-Head went out among the whites and reluctantly learned the barest modicum of social skills. He began to interact with the whites and soon found that they were weak, and hell-bent on taking away every last pork rind. Mullet-Head tried to explain his tribe's dependence upon The Great Rind Vein, or in his language, "El Nino", but the whites were unsympathetic. "When we arrived, yunz showed us no friendship, no hospitality. Now we will take your pork."
And thus began the Great Lard War of 1825.
The war was neither long nor bloody, as the natives really didn't give a shit. Not when there was such good TV. Even Mullet-Head soon lost interest and went back to his regular routine of picking his nose while he watched Starsky and Hutch. Sits-On-A-Barcolounger had found true love in the backseat of a TransAm and no longer cared much for war.
Eventually, the races began to mix, all animosity forgotten. The settlers took on many of the slovenly ways of the Hibachis, including their strange grunting language, and the Hibachis were really diggin' on Styx.
The new town moved forward, in this way. Few outsiders dared venture into the scary land and so it is to this day. The culture remains a mix of The Hibachi Tradition and the followers of Joe Whitebread. English is no longer spoken, but is sung in the town's anthem, "Carry On, My Wayward Son."
posted by Kristine at 6:41 PM
4 Comments:
HA!!! Good one.
Awesome. There should be a chapter two, about Latrobe, and the real truth behind the 33 of Rolling Rock beer. (That of course being, the wisest man in the land could only count to that number.) -kd
Despite the Hibachis inherent lethargy, I believe that they have over time dispersed their culture over much of the region. I swear a bunch of them live in Beaver County, too.
Data Nazi, I don't know if the Hibachis were communicative enough to spread their culture, or lack thereof. The only explanation I can offer is that perhaps some of the followers of Joe Whitebread migrated across the state, spreading this combined culture. During my next archaeological dig, I will look for evidence of this possibility.
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