Dine Around And Whether God Blesses America

"Slept in," as the peculiar saying goes (as opposed to "slept out"?) until after 7:00.  Betty called early and we made a lunch date for Friday.  Went to Shop-Rite for supplies. Made a big salad and had it and the rest of the slow-cooked squash for lunch.  Revised my theatre/acting resume to include T. and the H. and did other computer stuff.
Showered and dressed, then picked Aline up for Dine Around.  Yet another annoying feature of living among the doddering is their tendency to be not just early, but extremely early for every gathering.  We got there at the stated start time of 5:00 only to find everybody else already seated and settled.  In addition, although we had both responded in the affirmative to our invitations, there were not enough empty seats. I was wedged in at the intersection of two tables and and Aline was seated across the room. (It was not a problem that we were separated; we're together so much it's just as well we get to talk to other people now and again.)
Anyway, people I didn't know sat adjacent to me on both sides, which was enjoyable, as they were sociable and so am I.  They were also different from the run-of-the-mill, which I liked:  My right-hand neighbor was Serafina, who lives in Cranberry Creek. In a strong Italian accent, she managed to tell me her life story within about ten seconds.  It includes the melancholy fact that her daughter died of cancer at 29, four months after diagnosis, leaving Serafina to raise her three grandchildren, the youngest of whom was only two. However, he's getting married shortly and she, a cheery, optimistic person, made ninety meatballs for the bride-to-be's shower, her meatballs being the best there ever were in the world.  I loved her and I bet I'd love her meatballs even more.
I also enjoyed the neighbors on my left, Joe and Barbara.   They've lived on Windstar for twelve years, yet I never met them before last night.  They were both drinking martinis--exotic for this crowd--and told me they weren't married, just lived together.
An illicit love affair?  A flaming passion?  Or just a practical, share-expenses arrangement?  Dunno, and I didn't have a chance to ask, but would have if I had gotten around to it.
After the usual tiresome, second-grade-level question/answer session ("name a movie star that starts with 'A'"), and dollar store prizes, Roman K. rose to make an announcement.  He and Judy more or less run Dine-Around, although it's ostensibly arranged alternately by attendees. He said they were "going on hiatus" until probably after the new year because it had gotten to be just too much work.
Now this "work"--the quizzes and prizes dreamed up and instituted entirely by the K.'s--was not an original component of Dine Around and could just be dropped in favor of reverting to the original once a month dinner out.  Nobody suggested that, though, and frankly, I probably won't miss Dine Around.
What infuriated me was that after Roman made his announcement, he told us all to stand and sing God Bless America.  Everybody else in the room--a gathering of sheep, no question--did exactly that.  But damn, I refuse to contribute to the idea of exceptionalism celebrated in this dreary little ditty.  The music, lyrics, and sentiment are on the most infantile, banal, and anti-cultural level imaginable, and I won't even pretend to accept such an odious combination.  I stormed out of the room and didn't come back until it was over, then confronted Roman.  I told him I don't subscribe to the simple-minded ideology the thing celebrates and what was the big idea in directing a sing-a-long?  He smiled complacently and proceeded to assure me that, yes, I am patriotic and religious, I just don't know it!
Of all the gall!  This officious ass is telling me what I think in opposition to what I just made clear--California is looking better all the time!