texas-myths

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Eurotrash will claim that this ISN’T part of Texas’ creation myth.

Despite the fact that the battle of the Alamo seems to be remembered as some kind of turning point in the Texas Revolution, it’s been said that what the rebels did at the Alamo had, at best, no impact on the war and possibly even made things worse. Historians whose vision of the event isn’t blurred by freedom tears see it as a catastrophic military blunder caused by the rebels refusing to take the advice of smarter men.

The commander of the Texas forces, Sam Houston, never wanted to bother trying to defend San Antonio in the first place, considering it was too far from the American settlements, its citizens were too sympathetic to the Mexican government, and it didn’t hold much strategic value. He decided that they should pack the hell up and retreat to somewhere that’s actually worth fighting for.

The problem was that Houston’s troops took orders about as well as a herd of cats at a laser disco. They were notorious for ignoring the orders of Houston’s predecessor, and Houston himself had just as much luck. They listened to him right up until he got to the word “retreat,” and everything else out of his mouth sounded to them like “blah blah blah I’m a big weenie coward who doesn’t love America.” Instead of following Houston’s orders to evacuate, the rebels fortified the Alamo and holed themselves up inside. When Houston sent Colonel Jim Bowie back to convince the army to leave, Bowie took one look at the shitty fort, wiped away a patriotic tear, and joined them instead. Houston thought, “Sure, whatever, fuck it,” and left them to their fate.

6 Historical Myths You’ve Lapped Up As Fact

I am in the city you hated-
Brooklyn, New York City.
Amsterdam, maybe.
Does it matter?
there are cathedrals of profit,
poor sublime souls.
Skeleton dreams and the rush of the subway,
“VRRMMMmm”
feels like Babylon,
feels like last year’s shame

But I made it baby-
away from that tiny town,
that Wonderbread America;
away from that sign with big red letters taunting,
“JESUS LOVES YOU”
(Maybe, maybe)
But you were my religion;
I gave you my love
like you were the first church I knew-
like you were salvation.

I smoke now, since
the city is drowning in smog
(Just a pack a month, might as well)
You would hate it-
that is why I buy them.
That is why,
when someone comes to my door
asking about god,
I break into my chest
ribs cracking,
and show them the Word.

and that sign is still there,
“JESUS LOVES YOU”-
that last night, under a rusty sunset,
we were tiny dots on a railroad track
you and me and the devil.
now I am a ghost lining the subway
they tell me I look like a poem-
Trains to Harlem
Trains to Glasgow.

baby, do you see me?
I am a foreigner in my own skin.
took off my legs and started running,
(to the pilgrimage)
and I left,
committing a heresy of love,
I called out your name three times,
only to look back,
Revelation, revelation:
until the day you stopped running after me
.

—  Letters I Mailed to the Bottom of the River