Illinois Nazis, I hate those guys.

Admit it: you're all just jealous that Harrison Ford never portrayed you in a movie (unless you happen to be a space pirate or a robot hunter...and if you're a robot hunter; Damn you have a cool job).

I'm sorry if my post about the daily drudgery of archaeology is breaking the heart of the future Dr. Jones's. I will apologize for the good of my community. Let me assure you: Bullwhip weilding and Nazi fighting are indeed a part of my usual routine; the courses of which are taught during graduate school however.

I remember the first time I had to fight a Nazi; I was so nervous. Being a Chicago native the only thought that ran through my head was "Illinois Nazis. I hate Illinois Nazis!" Somehow I fought through my tangental daze and focused on the leering bastard. He was trying to steal the Pompadour of Ponce de Leon (which belonged, as we all know, in a museum). This was before my whip-wielding class (which I would take the following semester, ironic eh? Just rain on your wedding day). I wet myself, I won't lie. I also think I started to cry. Nazis are scary man...what with their choreographed walking and crisp neo-gothic fashion sense. Fortunately for me he wasn't prepared for my application of cultural theory in an archaeological context (take note you young budding archaeologists: cultural theory is not useless, a philosophical wasteland of ivory tower self congratulatory inside jokes). After ten minutes of Foucout punctuated with Geertz and the fool was mine. I reached deep into my bag of tricks and finished him with Claude Levi-Strauss himself: ... the distinctive features which are the product of phonemic analysis have an objective existence from three points of view: psychological, physiological and even physical; they are fewer in number than the phonemes which result from their combination; and, finally, they allow us to understand and reconstruct the system ... The blood trickled from his ears while he writhed and convulsed.

Nazis, pah. And Illinois Nazis at that.