I haven't been everywhere, man

Those who know me, those who have lived to tell the tale, will tell you that Rev. Lee is not the kind of guy to travel. I’m a homebody, content to stick around the house and stay in bed with a bottle of psychotropics and a plastic jug. For weeks on end.

It’s not like I haven’t seen the country, smelled the air, met strange and exotic North Americans. Why, it’s almost like that song, “I’ve Been Everywhere.”

Actually, my life is just like that song.

For those unfamiliar with this jewel of American music that was stolen from Australians,* “I’ve Been Everywhere” is a rocking little number that showcased rap-like rhymes of the names of places, towns, cities, and states, which thus inadvertently codified a final and absolute list of all the places one must visit in order to claim, “I’ve been everywhere, man.”

The song starts with a hitchhiker, alone on a dusty Nevada highway. A trucker pulls over to give the tramp a ride. The tramp, it turns out, is a deranged mad man. When the trucker comments on the dust storm, the tramp launches a musical tirade comprised of a rhyming list of all the places he’s been, thus showing up the trucker, who was just trying to make small talk. During the tirade the tramp breathlessly confesses, “I’m a killer.”

I was feeling pretty good for a few days, not good enough to get out of bed, but good. Then I got to thinking. When I listen to the song, either performed by Hank Snow or Johnny Cash, I tend to pick out the places I have been, ignoring the others. I began to fear that I could be overly identifying with the song - after all, I don’t believe in violence, how could I be a killer? - and the walls of reality came crashing down, like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Total Recall. Just like that.

So I checked out the lyrics using the world’s sole source of information, the Internet, and I learned that I haven’t been everywhere. In fact, I’m not even close. It totally blew me away. I haven’t been to most places, at least the places the song requires of a well-traveled person, which is the same thing.

Let’s look at the numbers:

By my count, the song makes reference to 90 specific geographic places, I’ve been to about 25 (It's kind of hard to tell with some of them). So I guess I’m more than a quarter to my goal, but still, that’s totally lame.

While processing these developments I spent an additional week in bed, just to make sure, and came to a conclusion: The only thing left to do is to stay here in bed, or get up and take action.

So here I am, two weeks later, to announce the opening salvo of a jihad against me not having been every place mentioned in the song. It will be my mission, my duty, to visit all the Chickapees and the Jellicos before I die.

It’s your jihad to kill me before I do.

(The ‘jihad’ is kind of awkward, I know, but it has that little bit extra that pushes it over the top. Lots of other people have set out on this “jihad,” it's not that original.)

* The guy that rewrote the New Zealand version was named John Hore. He later changed his name.

Here is the song. How many have you been to, smartie?

Reno Chicago Fargo Minnesota Buffalo Toronto Winslow Sarasota Wichita Tulsa Ottowa Oklahoma Tampa Panama Mattua LaPaloma Bangor Baltimore Salvador Amarillo Tocapillo Pocotello Amperdllo (I’m a killer)

Boston Charleston Dayton Louisiana Washington Houston Kingston Texas (County) Monterey Fairaday Santa Fe Tollaperson Glen Rock Black Rock Little Rock Oskaloussa Tennessee Tinnesay Chickapee Spirit Lake Grand Lake Devil’s Lake Crater Lake (For Pete’s sake)

Louisville Nashville Knoxville Omerback Shereville Jacksonville Waterville Costa Rock Richfield Springfield Bakersfield Shreveport Hakensack Cadallic Fond du Lac Davenport Idaho Jellico Argentina Diamondtina Pasadena Catalina (See what I mean, uh.)

Pittsburgh Parkersburg Gravelburg Colorado Ellisburg Rexburg Vicksburg Eldorado Larimore Adimore Habastock Chadanocka Shasta Nebraska Alaska Opalacka Baraboo Waterloo Kalamazoo Kansas City Souix City Cedar City Dodge City (What a pity.)