Great Writers, Pat Conroy, The Great Santini

“What’s the next song, sportsfans?” 
“Let’s sing ‘Dixie,’ ” Karen trilled. 
“Yes,” the rest of the family agreed, except Bull. 
“Naw,” he said, “that’s a loser’s song. Nothing depresses me more than a loser’s song. Let’s sing something else.” 
“No, ‘Dixie,’ ” the others insisted. 
“O.K., you sing ‘Dixie’ and I’ll sing ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic.’ I’ll sing a winner’s song and you sing a losers song.” 
So they sang rival songs at the same time. Soon it was evident to Bull that he couldn’t match the fire power of his family’s combined voices, so he quit singing and concentrated sullenly on his driving and his cigar. 
“What a horseshit song,” Bull mumbled when they were finished singing. 
“Watch your language, Bull.” 
“Sing ‘Dixie’ if you want. But we all is heading out of Georgia, the armpit of Dixie. Of course we all is only going to South Carolina, the sphincter of America.” 
Mary Anne yelled from the back of the car, “You know what Chicago is, Popsy? It’s the hemorrhoid of the planet earth.” 
The rest of the family applauded. (41)

78 pages, 30,244 words, visuals