AMERICA'S NATIONAL DISH

For most of this great nation, Deliverance Territory ends where Lovecraft Country begins. Florida and Texas combine the two. And no, I haven't ever visited. We're California, screw all the rest of you. Not entirely, of course, I know many fine people elsewhere in this land. But all it takes is one bastard to ruin your day -- which I discovered years ago in Western Europe, where being an American meant that if you spoke the local language you would have to defend the Christmas bombings and the coup in Chile -- and I have no wish to run into the small-town tentacled monsters or pig-intercoursers of the rest of the country.


Besides, I've seen your junkfood.
What you eat among yourselves.


French fries covered in cheez-whiz, bacon bits, and jalapeño slices.
With Ranch dip on the side.

Just one among many gustatory horrors, but it defines the nation.

No wonder so many people look like Mark and Patricia McCloskey.
And idolize them too.


Plus all of y'alls panick over the darndest things. Practically soil your pants. Regularly. Possibly because of the crap you eat, but you are very silly people, so it could really be anything.
Gargling with bleach, as just one example.

Now please excuse me, I have to go back to performing Socialist experiments in abortion on good Christians held captive, because we don't want Baby Jesus to be born again.
We're so not ready for the Second Coming.



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