Iron Eagle

Can we talk about the bald eagle?

It seems like a good weekend to do so.

Folks.

It's time to rename the bird.

What?! Boooo!!!

Now hear me out.

Bald eagles are our nation's symbol.

But they ain't bald.

They got a magnificent dome of feathers.

Sure, they're white.

Contrasts with it's brown body.

But that don't make it bald.

It simply ain't a bald eagle.

Stone Cold Steve Eagle?

Exudes badarsery while honoring the bald thing?

No.

No, that's terrible.

Silver eagle?

Too old(ish) sounding.

Inferior to gold, too.

We want the name to exude apex strength.

But honor, too.

Honor, too.

Golden eagle?

I mean, that's more me.

I'm gold.

So, no.

Get your own adjective, bird.

AMEREAGLE!

[National anthem starts playing for some reason. Oh boy, it's the Whitney Super Bowl version. We pause the musing here while the anthem plays. The author standing and saluting the flag the entire time. When it's over, he wipes a single tear from his left eye and sits down again, marveling at how that lady could sing.]

No, not Amereagle.

Too gimmicky.

How about:

American Eagle!

No, no, that's a clothing brand.

Let me workshop this.

The bird needs a rebrand.

And that's a bald-faced truth.

This one's for you, Chappy.

Chappy eagle? 

He was bald.

Play the tape.

📻

USA! USA!! USA!!!

Remember, mother mothers.

[Jets fly overhead in missing man formation.]

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