Tag Minnesota

What does “Minneapolis” stand for? REDUX: or “How I picked up a sense of humor and loved Wamzlee.com”

Recently an internet user stopped by my site to leave a comment on my rant on Minneapolis.  The comment wasn’t so much critical as it was a cheap shot at my “ignorance” as he put it.  The comment to me was laughable, and really wasn’t worth much of my time, as he completely missed the kind-of-subtle humor in my rant.  I resorted to a pokemon type- battle in my response to him, mainly for my own amusement.  However, I recently became perturbed by an article about a father being branded a pervert for taking photos of his own children playing in a park.  Long story short, a woman running an inflatable slide and a woman bystander thought the guy was a pedophile and was taking photos of children for his own sexual urges instead of an innocent family photo album. I don’t see anything wrong with the women being concerned, but when they are clearly proven wrong in front of their face, they refuse to believe the father and insist he is still a pervert.

Similar to the sovenouir hat I own.

Similar to the sovenouir hat I own.

Then today.  My roommate’s father was helping put in new windows in my room.  He saw my Russian souvenir hat I picked up at Checkpoint Charlie in Berlin.  He turned to me and said, “What the hell is this?  Are you some kind of communist?”  I laughed and said it was just a souvenir.  It was clear he was disturbed, and later I asked his son what else he said.  Basically said I was crazy and messed up. …mmm, definitely wasn’t a compliment.  Guess he didn’t get the memo that the USSR ended in 1991.  I was a little upset, not because I was called something I’m not, but I could have had more fun with him by putting on a Borat impression of some sort.

So how does this all tie together?  Well, let’s look at user JS’s comment.

“Minneapolis doesn’t have a Greek meaning, or Swedish translation. It is what it was always meant to be.”

Your blatant ignorance of the Native American origins of that word strikes me as racist.

He quotes my post’s last sentence and accuses me of not researching the real origins of name Minneapolis.  I will admit that I didn’t research it.  Guilty as charged.  But what JS doesn’t know and failed to notice was that my question of “what does Minneapolis stand for?” was that of a rhetorical one.

Commenter JS stopped short of calling me a racist, but suggested strongly that I may be racists towards Native Americans.  Now, I have no idea how he devolved my rant on how much I hate the way Minneapolis does their business into a racist slur.  Also, he argues that not knowing the etymology of Minneapolis means I’m a racist.  To me, that is like saying I don’t know what amber bock is and that makes me a teetotaler.  His statement doesn’t make any sense, and I think he might know that.  That is why I didn’t want to donate more time than I needed in response to his argument.

But then I realized I would be missing out on an opportunity to out a race-baiter.  A race-baiter is simply someone who abuses the word racist in an effort to save the position they were defending.  In layman’s terms, he called me a racist because he was unable to contribute to any side of an argument.  I realized that I wasn’t do any better because I didn’t respond seriously.

So, after he made that comment.  I did google search the origin of Minneapolis.  I didn’t expect to find what I did, but I felt the sweet taste of vindication.  JS comment suggests a deep, Native American cultural name to Minneapolis, but he will be quite shocked to find out he is wrong.

Charles Hoag was the city of Minneapolis’s first school master, second Treasurer of Hennepin County and a classical scholar.

Charles Hoag was the city of Minneapolis’s first school master, second Treasurer of Hennepin County and a classical scholar.

Look at this history.

Charles Hoag is said to have played a central role in the naming of the city of Minneapolis. … Hoag was thinking about Indianapolis and having been trying to form a word from Indian suffixes decided on the Greek “polis,” meaning city, joined with part of Minnehaha which was and is mistakenly thought to be Dakota for “laughing water” but really means something closer to “curling water” or “waterfall” (see Minnehaha Falls). The next morning he had an article published with Mr. Bowman’s help that proposed the name Minnehapolis, explaining that the “h” was silent.

source: Minnesota Historical Society via Wikipedia

Yes.  The name Minneapolis came not from Native Americans themselves, but from a white man who envied the name of Indianapolis, thus butchering a Native American word in the process.  Its funny, because Indiana is a politically incorrect word to describe Native Americans.

Clearly, JS himself was “blatantly ignorant” to the origin of the word Minneapolis.  I guess that might strike me as a hypocrite….or dare I say it, a racist?!?

And now for the cherry on top of this delicious sundae that JS has allowed me to make. I am of Native American descent.  I had a great-great-great grandmother who survived the Bad Axe Massacre, and was adopted by a group of white settlers. It is a story I wish to share and hope to transcribe from an old newspaper.  Sure, I may not be a modern day Native American, but I can tell JS that my grandmother was definitely around during the naming of Minneapolis, a time when her people were getting scalped and slaughtered.  A time when people like Charles Hoag robbed the Native Americans of their land and resources and the only way to show appreciation was to name a damn settlement after them.

So what did we learn today?  We learned that people are blinded by their own self-righteousness that they don’t realize how selfish and foolish they are being.  It’s time for people to quit viewing the world as communism and capitalism, friend or stranger, bad or good.

What does the word “Minneapolis” stand for?

This past weekend I ventured North to Maple Grove, a suburb of Minneapolis.  I often cringed at the thought of coming anywhere close to that city.  If you have never been to Minneapolis, consider yourself more fortunate than most.

The year is 2009, The Jetsons promised us flying cars and devices that make our poo vaporize.  However, I feel the city of Minneapolis has been holding itself out for technology to catch up to such remarkable achievements in consumerism.  What the city failed to realize is that The Jetsons was merely a cartoon…there are no flying cars and we have yet to break the poo barrier.

Roughly two months ago, construction began on interstate 94.  I was not made aware of this in advance, nor was I made aware of it 2 seconds before I had to make a last second decision whether I had to take an off ramp for in hopes of detour or risk falling off the face of the earth.  Of course, traffic was horrendous with people not knowing what the fuck to do.  Somehow I ended up in the projects, fearing that my little Ford Escort with Wisconsin Badger bumper stickers wouldn’t survive a couple gun shots to the hood.  I drive around a bit, and head back to the highway 94 signs, because afterall, you’d think they would lead you back to a detour route.  This wasn’t the case.  Minneapolis road signs informed you that 94 was indeed open for business and that no such detours were needed.  I found myself back at the on-ramp for 94, but barricades blocked me.

Now what?

My only options was to drive back through the projects, hoping you find a ramp onto some highway…ANY highway.

It’s been a two months since the incident, which I made it out alive.  This past weekend I knew I would face a similar scenario  However, things were different.  Minneapolis warned me in advance of my arrival that 94 was indeed closed.  Detour signs were posted.  “HOORAY!” was my thinking.  Did the city finally realize their failure and corrected their mistake?  I was almost over-confident and over-joyed.  Thoughts of blog posts praising the city bounced around my head. “Minneapolis catapulted into 21st-century road construction strategy” was one headline I conjured up.

(Let me mention that detours are infamously known for being inconvenient in terms of re-routes.  Although shorter routes exist, detours are meant to divert traffic flow so that there minimal congestion (lol wut), but still get you to your destination.

Of course….this is not Minneapolis’s definition of a detour. )

I was impressed that Minneapolis finally figured out a detour, so with curiosity at my side, I decided to try the route, to see what path the city had in store for me.  I drove along a beautiful road, the name slips me.  A came across a ramp to get on 100, figuring it would lead me past the construction on 94, but the detour signs told me to continue my course.  I obeyed. I looked at my map and seen that 169 had to be the highway the detour would take me.  Sure enough…it wasn’t.  The detour signs ensured me they were not liars, and that my turn would be sooner rather than later.

I then considered that 494 would be the highway I would need to exit on, but the detour signs were growing irritated of my disobedience. With a quick slap to the face, I was ordered to take an immediate right turn onto some street by the detour signs.  I scratched my head as I turned onto what appeared to be a road for a couple gas stations and thats about it.

I drove a ways more, figuring it would be a nonstop path to freedom…saftey…and eventually water. My car came to a stop. I shut the engine off.  I exited my car, leaving my door ajar.  I crept towards the front, gazing at what I had just seen.

A dead end.

But it wasn’t any sort of dead end, it was a realization.  A realization that Minneapolis is not a city to be trusted.  A realization that a city that can’t build roads, bridges, or even careers, doesn’t want a person like me.  The city isn’t meant to be a beginning, it is meant to be an end.  It is where quarterbacks go to end their career of misery, it is where washed up media personalities go to be useless politicians.

The detour wasn’t meant to be an alternative to my destination, it was meant to be a message to me that I am not ready for Minneapolis and that I may never be.  It wanted me to get as far away as possible, that I am young, and it wished for me to be forever young.

Minneapolis doesn’t have a Greek meaning, or Swedish translation.  It is what it was always meant to be.

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