The Aesthetics of Dwarf Tossing*

Rick Kughen

 

Here’s a little-known factoid about yours truly: I currently hold the state record for dwarf tossing. What? Don’t roll your eyes like that. You might not know it, but if you bend your knees just so and get the right arc, you can toss your average dwarf a country mile.

A sign found in most Indiana drinking establishments.

Most people in these parts aren’t familiar with dwarf tossing, and sadly, dwarf tossing has been outlawed in my home county. What once was a wholesome event for the whole family to enjoy was tarnished-and eventually outlawed almost everywhere after the whole dwarf/sheep mishap of 2007 anyway. (And I must strenuously insist I had nothing to do with the aforementioned egregious incident. Please don’t ask me about it because I’ll never get those images out of my head.) I only toss in Vigo and Posey counties where it’s still legal.

My family’s lineage can be traced all the way back to the Principality of Liechtenstein where my great-grandpappy Hans Kughenborscht was prime minister in the 1930s. Dwarf tossing is a seasonal event that my family has enjoyed for centuries.

The dwarf tossing craze crossed the Atlantic and made its way the U.S. in the early 1900s where it was mostly enjoyed during fall festivals that often coincide with more traditional Oktoberfest celebrations.

However, Grampy Frans Kughen (the “borscht” part of our name was dropped thanks to an unfortunate record keeping snafu at Ellis Island in the 1930s) made dwarf tossing a mainstream sport after successfully tossing a dwarf 271.3 feet in the 1960 Summer Olympics held in Rome. From that point on, dwarf tossing was all the rage.

In recent years, the proverbial shine on dwarf tossing has been lost. Opponents of our beloved sport refer to it as inhumane and degrading. After the aforementioned dwarf/sheep mishap of 2007, dwarf tossing was banned in all but two Indiana counties. It’s sad really.

Dwarf tossing is healthy and fun. I’m not sure where I will get my cardio if the good counties of Vigo and Posey ever outlaw it.

*Absolutely nothing in this post is true.

About Rick Kughen

Rick Kughen is a writer, editor, and fishing bum who lives in Kokomo, Indiana with his lovely wife Charlotte, children Alexa and Eric, a flatulent beagle, two devious cats, his imaginary friend, Ned, and Ned's imaginary dog, Steve. He is a former Executive Editor for Pearson Education in Indianapolis, IN, where he worked for 19 years. He's now a full-time freelance writer and editor; he and Charlotte own and operate The Wordsmithery, a freelance editorial company. In a previous life, he was a newspaper reporter and columnist covering police and criminal courts news. He is a fine graduate of Ball State University where he moonlighted as a student. Kughen is an avid fisherman, writer, fly tyer, bait manufacturer, and baseball card collector. He is a devoted fan of both the Green Bay Packers and Cincinnati Reds, and of course, he is an incurable audiophile. He is the superhero known as Adjective Man (action figures sold separately). Kughen also answers to "Editor Boy," but only because he appears to have no choice.

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