I am way behind this morning- normally not a big deal on a Saturday, but I had to cook this morning for the 0915 pick-up in the Alternate Lifestyle Jakemobile.

Jake was a good sport when we started to disparage his old car, a 1998 Subaru Outback as being rated number one in the nation by America’s Lesbians. He bought another one, on the grounds that a segment of the market so discerning was a telling argument in favor of the brand.

I agree- I would have bought the old one off him. It is close to the perfect ride for a variety of tasks, even hauling barrels of gunpowder around, if that is what is required. It is the 5th of November, after all.

Anyway, I did an artichoke dip and hollowed out a large round of rosemary-tinged Italian bread, with cheese and wraps to devour at the parking lot in College Park.

This is a normal (if emotional) game at College Park- old school, with the kick-off around noon, and thus the imperative to be in our tailgate slots by 1015.

So, with this day dawning clear and crisp, I am looking forward to an iconic game, not driving, and being back, probably inebriated, while the sun still hangs in the west.

But that does not leave a lot of time for rumination this morning. Andy Rooney is dead, according to the media, and only a month after his last broadcast. He is about the last of the breed, and was 92. My pal Mac is the same age as Andy was, and is still going strong. He and I are going to get together on Monday and have a glass of wine in tribute to his Greatest Generation.

The game today is a nice way to partition off the polygraph inquisition this week. I still feel soiled by it, and the back-to-back combination of that and the dental chair left me quivering at the various indignities we inflict on ourselves. Save the last, which Mom and Dad are doing.

But it is the 5th, and with the Occupy crowd still out in the streets, it is worth a second to consider other times and other protests.

After Queen Elizabeth I died in 1603, English Catholics who had been persecuted under her rule had hoped that her successor, James I, would be more tolerant of their religion. James I had, after all, had a Catholic mother. Unfortunately, James did not turn out to be more tolerant than Elizabeth and a number of young men, 13 to be exact, decided that violent action was the answer.

A small group took shape, under the leadership of Robert Catesby. Catesby felt that violent action was warranted. Indeed, the thing to do was to blow up the Houses of Parliament. In doing so, they would kill the King, maybe even the Prince of Wales, and the Members of Parliament who were making life difficult for the Catholics. Today these conspirators would be known as extremists, or terrorists.

To carry out their plan, the conspirators got hold of 36 barrels of gunpowder – and stored them in a cellar, just under the House of Lords.

But as the group worked on the plot, it became clear that innocent people would be hurt or killed in the attack, including some people who even fought for more rights for Catholics. Some of the plotters started having second thoughts. One of the group members even sent an anonymous letter warning his friend, Lord Monteagle, to stay away from the Parliament on November 5th.

The warning letter reached the King, and the King’s forces made plans to stop the conspirators.

Guido, who was in the cellar of the parliament with the 36 barrels of gunpowder when the authorities stormed it in the early hours of November 5th, was caught, tortured and executed.

It’s unclear if the conspirators would ever have been able to pull off their plan to blow up the Parliament even if they had not been betrayed. Some have suggested that the gunpowder itself was so old as to be useless. Since Guy Fawkes and the other conspirators got caught before trying to ignite the powder, we’ll never know for certain.

Even for the period (which was notoriously unstable) the Gunpowder Plot struck a very profound chord for the people of England, a sort of violent corollary to the Tea Party civil disturbance in Boston Harbor.

In fact, even today, the reigning Monarch only enters the Parliament once a year, as part what is called “the State Opening of Parliament.”.Prior to the Opening, and according to custom, the Yeomen of the Guard search the cellars of the Palace of Westminster.

I wonder if the Department of Bonehead Security has this as a cautionary tale in the playbook. The way people feel about Congress these days, you never know.

I have the ice and the vodka and the food neatly packed by the door. I need to shower and dress appropriately- layers, natch- and be ready for America’s Number One Alternate Lifestyle Vehicle to drive up west of the pool at Big Pink.

Copyright 2011 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com